The Unity of the Church : A Theological State of the Art and Beyond [1 ed.] 9789047443988, 9789004179684

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The Unity of the Church

Studies in Reformed Theology Editor-in-chief

Eduardus Van der Borght, VU University Amsterdam Editorial Board

Abraham van de Beek, VU University Amsterdam Martien Brinkman, VU University Amsterdam Alasdair Heron, University of Erlangen-Nürnberg Dirk van Keulen, Protestant Theological University, Leiden Daniel Migliore, Princeton Theological Seminary Richard Mouw, Fuller Theological Seminary, Pasadena Gerrit Singgih, Duta Wacana Christian University, Yogjakarta Conrad Wethmar, University of Pretoria

VOLUME 18

The Unity of the Church A Theological State of the Art and Beyond

Edited by

Eduardus Van der Borght

LEIDEN • BOSTON 2010

This book is printed on acid-free paper. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data International Reformed Theological Institute. International Conference (7th : 2007 : Cluj-Napoca, Romania) The unity of the church : a theological state of the art and beyond/edited by Eduardus Van der Borght. p. cm. — (Studies in Reformed theology ; v. 18) ISBN 978-90-04-17968-4 (hardback : alk. paper) 1. Reformed Church—Doctrines— Congresses. 2. Church—Unity—Congresses. I. Borght, Ed. A. J. G. van der, 1956– II. Title. III. Series. BX9423.C43158 2007 230’.42—dc22 2009033566

ISSN 1571-4799 ISBN 978 9004 17968 4 Copyright 2010 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Hotei Publishing, IDC Publishers, Martinus Nijhoff Publishers and VSP. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Brill has made all reasonable efforts to trace all right holders to any copyrighted material used in this work. In cases where these efforts have not been successful the publisher welcomes communications from copyright holders, so that the appropriate acknowledgements can be made in future editions, and to settle other permission matters. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Brill provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change. printed in the netherlands

Dedicated to the memory of Lukas Vischer (1926–2008). A life devoted to the unity of the church.

CONTENTS

The Unity of the Church and the Reformed Tradition— An Introduction .............................................................................. Eduardus Van der Borght

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PART ONE

FRAMING UNITY OF THE CHURCH AS A THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM Chapter One Communion—Responding to God’s Gift ............ Lukas Vischer Chapter Two Church Unity, Territorialism, and State Formation in the Era of Confessionalisation ............................. Wim Janse Chapter Three Parallel Coexistence of Churches. The Church in Transylvania: Its Unity and Disunity—A Contextualized Example ............................................................................................. Juhász Tamás

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Chapter Four “Is Christ Divided?”—An Analysis of the Theological Justification of a Church Schism ............................. J.H. (Amie) van Wyk

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Chapter Five Calvinus Oecumenicus—Calvin’s Vision of the Unity and Catholicity of the Church ........................................... I. John Hesselink

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contents PART TWO

THE TOOLS FOR THE UNITY OF THE CHURCH—A THEOLOGICAL ANALYSIS Chapter Six One Church and the Pure Preaching of the Word—Theses and Observations on the Theme ..................... Alasdair Heron Chapter Seven A Biblical Theological Hermeneutics, the Pure Preaching of the Word of God, and the Unity of the Church ............................................................................................. Seung-Goo Lee

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Chapter Eight The Medium and the Message—Sola Scriptura and (Dis)unity in the Reformed Tradition ............................... Dora Bernhardt

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Chapter Nine The Unity of the Church and the Pure Administration of the Sacraments ............................................. Lyle D. Bierma

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Chapter Ten Confessions as Instruments of (Dis)unity? ........ Dirkie Smit Chapter Eleven Forms of Unity or of Disunity—The Confessions in the Recent History of the Protestant Church in the Netherlands ......................................................................... Henk van den Belt Chapter Twelve Gospel Discipline and Church (Dis)unity in the Reformed Tradition ........................................................... Alan P.F. Sell

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PART THREE

ECUMENICAL EXPLORATIONS ON THE UNITY OF THE CHURCH Chapter Thirteen The Healing of Memories—Finding One Another Again in Christ .............................................................. Jeffrey Gros

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Chapter Fourteen An Asymptotic Dialogue? A Response to Jeffrey Gros ..................................................................................... Leo J. Koffeman

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Chapter Fifteen Ecumenical Theology and the Unity of the Church—A Reformed Understanding of Ecumenical Engagement and the Unity of the Church ............................... Setri Nyomi Chapter Sixteen ‘No Popery’: A Blessing or a Curse? Ministry as an Instrument of Unity within the Reformed Tradition ......................................................................................... Eduardus Van der Borght Chapter Seventeen Allan Janssen

Office as an Instrument of Unity ..............

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PART FOUR

THE THEOLOGICAL BASIS FOR THE UNITY OF THE CHURCH Chapter Eighteen One God and One Church—Considerations on the Unity of the Church from the Perspective of Biblical Theology .......................................................................................... 249 Abraham van de Beek Chapter Nineteen One Savior, One Church—Reconciliation as Justification and “New Creation” ............................................... 267 Philippe Theron

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Chapter Twenty The Reality of the Unified Church ................ Annette Mosher

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Chapter Twenty-One The Church as an Echo of the Triune God ..................................................................................... Christiaan Mostert

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Chapter Twenty-Two Is the Triune God a Model for the One Church?—Reply to Christiaan Mostert ............................ Paul Wells

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Chapter Twenty-Three Trinitarian Ecclesiology and the Search for Unity—A Reformed Reading of Miroslav Volf .... Gijsbert van den Brink

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Chapter Twenty-Four The Church as Sacrament ..................... Martien E. Brinkman

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List of Contributors ...........................................................................

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Index ....................................................................................................

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THE UNITY OF THE CHURCH AND THE REFORMED TRADITION—AN INTRODUCTION Eduardus Van der Borght

In contrast to the original name, Ecclesia Reformata, ecclesiology did not develop into a major theme within the Reformed tradition. The presbyterian polity became an identification mark—especially in the Anglo-American world—but the unity of the church did not grow into a major theological topic. The disunity within the Reformed tradition has become an ecclesial embarrassment. A schismatic tendency can no longer be denied. The apparent low sensus unitatis seems difficult to counter. It seems that Reformed theology has not so much focused on the question of whether there are elements in its theology that favor this dividing trend, but has concentrated more on aspects in its theology that take away the sharp edges of this unfortunate divisive tendency. These are arguments such as the unity of the church is an eschatological reality, or that the unity of the church is part of the invisible Una Sancta. The divisions are played down as merely depending on ‘nontheological’ factors, or as an expression of confessing the faith in loco et in tempore. This volume challenges this traditional low-key attitude towards the unity of the church within the Reformed tradition. It wants to investigate which theological aspects did contribute to a weak sensus unitatis within this tradition and will search for theological concepts with can remedy this disease of division. The articles in this volume stem from contributions to the Seventh Biannual Conference of the academic network of International Reformed Theological Institute (IRTI) from 3 to 8 July 2007. Those that were submitted and accepted after a double blind refereeing process found their way into this volume. The IRTI network enjoyed the hospitality of the Protestant Theological Institute in Kolozsvár / Cluj in Transylvania (Romania) for the organization of the conference. It proved to be a challenging environment. The edict of Torda/Turda in Transylvania (1568)

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introduced the first experiment of freedom of religion before the rest of Europe started practicing this. And the Reformed church in this region has never split. Why? Various answers seem possible. Has the specific episcopalian structure of this church been (partly) responsible for this unique position? The local Reformed theologians were hesitant. Exactly at the time of the conference, a new controversy was occurring within the church in relation to the political involvement of one of the bishops. They concluded that bishops could be a divisive factor as well. Another explanation of the unity of the Reformed church in Romania could be its ethnically Hungarian outlook (language and culture). As a Hungarian minority, the Reformed tradition is a strong identity marker. The same goes for the Orthodox Church in Romania, as became clear when we visited the Orthodox Theological Faculty in Alba Iulia, another major city in Transylvania. The name of the faculty was remarkable. It was a date. The name of the seminary was ‘1 December 1918.’ The date referred to the exact moment that Transylvania, that until then was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, was united with the Romanian kingdom. The initial idea for an IRTI conference on the unity of the church grew out of the correspondence between Abraham van de Beek and Lukas Vischer after they both attended a European consultation of European theologians about Reformed perspective on the church in 2002.1 Both were convinced that disunity was not only a very problematic ecclesial issue, but that it required more indepth theological inquiry on the theological foundations within the Reformed tradition. Van de Beek has, in various articles in recent years, indicated his unease with many aspects of Reformed ecclesiology. Vischer’s life has been devoted to the unity of the church, on the ecclesial and ecclesiological level. His ecumenical work as director of the theological commission Faith and Order of the World Council of Churches (1966–79) and as director of the Theological Department of the World Alliance of Reformed Churches (1982–89) gave testimony to his calling. Even after his official retirement, he continued to search for theological resources

1 Both contributed to the volume, which was the result of the conference: The Church in Reformed Perspective: a European Reflection / Report and Papers from a European Consultation of Reformed Theologians Held at the International Reformed Centre John Knox from January 9 to 13, 2002 (Genève: Centre International Réformé John Knox, 2002).

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for a deeper understanding of the unity of the church. In 2000, he published Pia Conspiratio: Calvin on the Unity of Christ’s Church.2 Both Van de Beek and Vischer intended to contribute to the 2007 IRTI conference. When Vischer wrote his lecture, he was already seriously ill and not able to present it in person. He died in May 2008, and this paper will have been one of his last contributions to Reformed theological research. It is powerful witness of a life devoted to the unity of the church. For this reason, the volume is dedicated to this memory.

What Has Gone Wrong with the Unity of the Church within the Reformed Tradition? Framing the Theological Problem Vischer admits that the Reformed churches and theologians have, in many ways, contributed to the cause of unity. However, at the same time, the divisions have multiplied and have eroded the sense of the Reformed churches to represent the body of Christ. Vischer identifies four factors that have contributed to the divisions. Remarkably enough, these are central elements of Reformed theology and life. The strong Reformed conviction that only God must be obeyed without compromise can easily have given rise to a tendency to go from controversies to divided churches. Debates on doctrines, on the structures and government of the church, on relations to the state, on the meaning of confessions of faith, and on the nature and authority of the Bible could and can be reasons for church splits because God’s truth is at stake. The eagerness to be part of the true church obscures the oneness of the body of Christ. A second essential characteristic of Reformed ethos—its witness in society as a consequence of the call for sanctification of all aspects of life—paradoxically contains the seeds for further divisions. Ordination of women, attitude to homosexuality, or to other religions are all potential divisive issues that can lead to more divided Reformed churches. The missionary history of the Reformed family is identified as a process that has worked as a mechanism for divided

2 Lukas Vischer, Pia Conspiratio: Calvin on the Unity of Christ’s Church (Genève: Centre International Réformé John Knox, 2002).

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churches. And last but not least, migration has lead to a multiplication of denominations in which the ethnic/national factor is at least as importance as the Reformed. Of course, these elements are also important in other Christian traditions as well, and especially in other Protestant traditions such as the Anglican and Lutheran churches. Still the situation of division seems worse within the Reformed tradition. Vischer is convinced that the spiritual understanding of the church as a given community has been lost on the way. The stress on God’s presence now, on the individual calling, and on the local church within the Reformed tradition has led to a lack of community with those who believed in Christ before our age, with those who are called next to us, and with those other members of the universal church. To receive the community of the church is a never ending spiritual exercise that asks at the same time attention for structures to support the unity of the church. Vischer ends his analysis with seven recommendations for greater unity in the church. This volume deals with the theological aspects that contributed to the weak sensus unitatis within Reformed ecclesiology. Of course, theology is not the only instance responsible for this state of affairs. Before engaging in theological discourse, Wim Janse frames the issue in context of the history of Early Modern Europe and describes important non-theological reasons that contributed to a weak sense of interand intra-ecclesiastical unity among the Reformed. These historical aspects are related to the role churches were forced to play as instruments of the state. The rise of early moderns states caused the confessional churches to play a role in nation building. The recognition and support by the state in the form of protection and financial aid came for a price, which is to take care of the socio-political interests of their local or national governments. As a consequence, this politically engineered European ‘confessionalisation’ did not allow cultivation of interdenominational church unity, nor did it stimulate the formation of theories about this concept. The unity and the catholicity of the church did not fit in this early modern frame. Contributing to the weak ecclesiology in the case of Reformed Protestantism was the variety of local situations under which it had to operate, theological idiosyncracy, and the absence of a central European Reformed institution to regulate pluriformity. As an example of non-theological issues interfering with the unity of the church, Tamás Juhász provides us with a description of the way diverse religious communities have lived together in Transylvania

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since the Reformation era. The original tolerance edict of Torda/Turda in 1568 confirmed the existing pluralism in language, nation, status, and culture. The ages of confessionalization, nationalism, and communism have placed heavy pressure on the existing tolerance. He prefers to identify the current situation in Transylvania with the indication ‘parallel coexistence’ instead of ‘peaceful cohabitation.’ It is not uncommon that divisions within the churches of the Reformed family are given a theological justification. Sometimes reference is made to God’s eternal decree, or to God’s providence. Sometimes they are just accepted because of human sinful nature. Sometimes division is legitimized on the basis of God’s will for diversity. Sometimes divisions are made less problematic since the one true church is the invisible church. Sometimes divisions are neutralized by identifying one’s own church as the only true church and by judging the other ones as false churches. And last but not least, divisions are downplayed as an important issue because the unity of the church is understood as an eschatological provision. Amie van Wyk deconstructs these arguments, and uncovers much flawed argumentation among Reformed theologians when it relates to the unity of the church. Can the weak sensus unitatis be traced back to the founding fathers of the Reformed tradition? Were they not the first to leave the then Roman church and did they not provide a justification for that move? John Hesselink takes up the challenge by examining John Calvin’s teaching and praxis. He observes his high view of the church—captured well in his use of the Cyprian expression of the church as mother. The unity of the church is based on the unity within the one Christ. Calvin abhorred schisms. He did not understand his own case as schismatic but felt driven out of the Roman church. He could no longer stay in that church because its leadership took the central place of Christ and his word. Hesselink also pays attention to his considerable involvement in ecclesial unity efforts with the Roman Catholics, Lutherans, Zwinglians, and Anglicans. Calvin was an ecumenical theologian and churchman par excellence. In his opinion, the unity of the church should be based on doctrinal agreement on the essentials of the Christian faith, especially in relation to Christ, and on brotherly love. Calvin would certainly have abhorred the denominational, factional, and schismatic spirit within many parts of the Reformed tradition. Hesselink concludes that the lack of sensus unitatis cannot be traced back to Calvin—on the contrary.

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eduardus van der borght Reformed Theological Instruments for the Unity of the Church

An Ecclesiological Analysis Further investigation into the ecclesial causes and remedies for the disunity within the church of the Reformed tradition is an important issue for synodal gatherings and for the World Communion of Reformed Churches. The contribution of the IRTI academic network of scholars involved in research in the Reformed tradition is complementary to this effort. It looks into the theological issues at stake at the level of Reformed ecclesiology. The volume revisited and re-evaluated the elements within the tradition that have been identified as being instrumental in supporting the unity of the church: the pure preaching of the Word, the pure administration of the sacraments, the confessional unity and discipline as an extra element to protect the integrity, and the unity of the church. In fact, each of these ‘instruments’ are used in the other Christian traditions as well to support the unity of the church. They are not specific to the Reformed tradition. So given the fact that the Reformed tradition is among the most disunified, if not the most divided Christian tradition, we have to ask the question why these four elements are less successful within the Reformed tradition to support the oneness of the church. Do we expect too much from them? Do we expect them to deliver on an aspect they are not meant for? Can elements within the Reformed traditions be identified that hinder their successful employment in terms of strengthening the unity of the church? Each of the four aspects is the topic of at least one paper. Can the ‘pure preaching of the gospel’ as a bulwark against human inventions in the papal church of the 16th century provide the necessary foundation for the unity of the church? Alasdair Heron doubts this thesis, while Seung-Goo Lee is convinced that it still can under certain conditions. Heron, in line with Vischer, refers to the history of the Reformed tradition as evidence that the ‘pure preaching of the Word’ cannot accomplish this task. He adds theological arguments, such as the change in biblical hermeneutics, and the change in cultural and theological perceptions. Lee has no problem with hermeneutical differences as far as they confirm formally to the intention to be faithful to the authorial intentions of the text, and materially to the ‘justification by faith alone’ principle.

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Dora Bernhardt adds another element to the discussion on the importance of sola Scriptura for the unity of the church. With reference to Marshall McLuhan’s famous maxim ‘the medium is the message,’ she suggests that it is especially the predominance of the written word in the Reformed tradition that made it less facilitative to serve the unity of the church. Based on the research of Walter Ong and Jacques Ellul on the difference between speaking and writing and between hearing and seeing, she draws attention to the importance of the written text in the Reformed tradition over against the Lutheran and Anglican tradition, both of which have given more attention to the importance of the spoken word and the symbolic word in the liturgy. The nature of a written text—words put into space without context—leave less room for discussion than spoken texts. Making the written text the point of reference in a community’s life tends towards univocal interpretation. This makes it in the end more vulnerable for divisions. Next to the pure preaching of the gospel, the Belgic Confession names the pure administration of the sacraments as the second mark of the true church. What was intended to be an element that undergirds the unity of the church turned out to be a divisive issue within the Reformed tradition. Varying understandings of theology, and the practice of baptism and the Lord’s Supper became causes for secession. Lyle Bierma deconstructs the argument for separation based on article 29 of the Belgic Confession. He shows that this sectarian reading loses its validity when the article is read in the context of and time that the confession was written. The medieval Roman Catholic Church, which—according to its author, de Bres—had added to the number and practice of the sacraments, was the target. It was not intended to identify a specific doctrine or practice as the boundary line between the true and false church. Bierma adds to this misunderstanding of the second mark of the true church in the confession—the misinterpretation of 1 Corinthians 11 as a second barrier to the visible unity. The call to examine oneself before eating the bread and drinking of the cup (v. 28) has been interpreted in an introspective and exclusive way, while the text requires a horizontal instead of a vertical selfexamination. Turning away of these two misinterpretations, Biersma then explore two aspects of the sacramental theology of the Reformed tradition which contribute to the visible unity of the church. One baptism refers to one church, which is not just the local congregation of the denomination but the universal church, as he illustrates with

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references to the Reformed confessions and liturgical forms. The way that the doctrine of the Lord’s Supper is explained in the Heidelberg Catechism is inspirational for the way sacramental theology can support the visible unity of the church. The confession searched for the common basis among the Reformed theologians and avoided the elements on which they disagreed. As to confessions of faith, Dirkie Smit distinguishes many functions—doxological, hermeneutical, identity-building, catechetical, discerning, and witnessing—but unity is not directly among them. Their impact on the unity of the church is indirect, through providing a common language for doxology; hermeneutical lenses for common practices of Bible interpretation; and strengthening belonging, identity, and community. And when the need arises, they offer a form of unity in historical contexts of division by naming what is regarded as false teaching and publicly witnessing to what is understood to be truth. Smit judges the question of whether the confessions can be instruments of unity as problematic. The issue seems to suggest that there must be forms of unity one can depend on as in other Christian traditions, such as a central authority, a teaching magisterium, a corpus of infallible doctrines, a common canon of biblical interpretation, a continuous liturgical tradition, a basic ethnic or national loyalty, or one common—an universal book of confessions. But by nature, the Reformed tradition in a radical way strives to live by ‘the Bible alone,’ admitting that no final interpretation can be provided. Since the visible unity of the church can only be found in the truth of the gospel, the message of the sola scriptura, and the Lordship of Jesus Christ, the confessions of the church can only be valued as historical and contextual expressions of the ways a particular community understood this Word in a specific context. In this way, the multitude of confessions can only—in an indirect way—contribute to the unity of the church. The exceptions are confessions such as Barmen and Belhar that addressed the issue of the division of the church on the basis of race and have the unity of the church as their prime objective. Henk van den Belt describes, as a case study, the role played by confessions in the recent unification process of the Netherlands Reformed Church, the Reformed Churches in the Netherlands, and the Evangelical Lutheran Church in the Kingdom of the Netherlands into the Protestant Church in the Netherlands. More than 100 congregations decided not to follow into this merger and to start a new church—the Restored Reformed Church—which considered itself

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as the confessional and historical continuation of the Netherlands Reformed Church. One of the main reasons for the members of the Restored Reformed Church to become part of new church was that they found it impossible to place the contradictory Lutheran and Reformed confessions next to one another in the Protestant Church in the Netherlands. They considered this a too relativistic and pluralistic understanding of the truth. The Reformed Confession, called the ‘Forms of Unity,’ had become a source of disunity. Alan Sell is outspoken when it comes to the question of whether discipline contributes to the unity of the church. The issue of discipline was one of the arguments why the Separatists left the established Church of England, since they were of the opinion that the English Reformation had not taken seriously enough the call to separate from the world. Although he is aware that church discipline has regularly been badly mishandled, Sell emphasizes the positive intentions: to prevent the dishonor of Christ as the head of the church; to protect weaker brothers and sisters; and to open the possibility for repentance and restoration of fellowship. Sell discusses plenty of historic examples of inclusion in the case of confirmation or reception of church members and of exclusion in relation to doctrine or morals. He warns against legalism or sectarianism, but also against leaving disciplinary issues to the individuals involved because the honor of God and the unity of the church are at stake. Finally, he signals that a major ecumenical issue has not been resolved within the Reformed tradition: the question of whether a wider church body has authority to discipline a local church.

Ecumenical Explorations into the Unity of the Church The unity of the church is a challenge for all Christian traditions. Apparently, most succeed better than the Reformed in avoiding separations and splits. How do they express diversity in unity and unity in diversity? Which theological elements are at their disposal to keep the church united? How they relate to other Christian traditions and contribute to the unity of the church worldwide. The American, Catholic, ecumenical scholar Jeff Gros explains how the passion for church unity is at the very center of Catholic identity. The Second Vatican Council (1962–65) is of fundamental importance for understanding the shift in Roman Catholic understanding of the

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unity of the church. He reminds us of the fruits of the International Reformed—Catholic dialogue, and refers especially to the concept of ‘reconciliation of memories’ to heal the wounds of the past. He highlights three elements of internal discussion on the unity of the church in the Roman Catholic Church. One is on the way the one true church subsists in the Roman Catholic Church. The second is whether the universal church has priority over the local church as Cardinal Ratzinger, now Pope Benedict XVI, has advocated, or whether the local and universal are simultaneous, for which Cardinal Walter Kasper has made a case. And finally, the process of ecumenical reception within the RCC and the ecclesial status of the ecumenical partners is an issue that must still be decided. Gros also describes a moment of disappointment with the level of commitment of the World Alliance of Reformed Churches to ecumenical dialogues. He refers to the uninterested reaction of the WARC to the invitation of the late Pope John Paul II in Ut Unum Sint (1995) for dialogue in order to ecumenically reform the papacy; and to the reluctance of the WARC to be involved in the Declaration on the Justification by Faith (1999). The Dutch Reformed, ecumenical theologian Leo Koffeman, reacting to Gros, describes the Catholic Reformed dialogue as ‘asymptotic’ with a variation on Anton Houtepen’s characterization as ‘asymmetric.’ This indicates a conviction and an attitude that it will never be enough: ‘convergences yes, consensus no.’ Koffeman sees this mechanism at work in reception processes in the churches. He also describes the problem of the difference in ecclesial self-understanding and the various concept of unity. The understanding of unity and diversity in the church is a contentious issue in both traditions. His experience makes him less hopeful than Gros, also because Protestants tend to look at the missing results on the grassroots level of the parishes. For Koffeman, all this reveals a spiritual problem: ecclesial inertia. Reformed theologians like to point to the commitment to the ecumenical movement in the 19th and 20th centuries. Setri Nyomi, secretary-general of the World Alliance of Reformed Churches, presents a mixed evaluation of the performance of the Reformed tradition towards the unity of the church. Unity is a key element of Reformed self-understanding that is expressed in the work of WARC to heal divisions within the Reformed family, to commit itself to bilateral dialogues, and to engage in ecumenical work together with other Christian world communions. The union under way between the WARC and the Reformed

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Ecumenical Council is an inspiring example for the Reformed family of churches. At the same time, the Reformed family demonstrates a tendency to divide. This can not only be blamed on non-theological factors. Nyomi finds the way that the Reformed tradition engages in biblical hermeneutics on the basis of sola scriptura is too often problematic. Next to that, often a lack of accountability to the structures of the church is revealed in separations within the Reformed tradition. Recently, societal issues in relation to economy, gender, race, sexual orientation, the Palestine-Israel conflict, and others have become divisive as well. For Nyomi, a stronger sense of accountability is the key to more unity within the church. Ecumenical documents on the church mention ordained ministry time and again as a major issue that needs further clarification in order to support the unity of the church. Not only has mutual recognition become part of the way to visible unity of the church, ordained ministry itself has been identified as a unifying element in each church. Eduardus Van der Borght analyzes the way ordained ministries have functioned within the Reformed tradition. He observes an actual silence as to the importance of ministry in relation to the unity of the church in the Reformed tradition. His main argument is that the lack of unity within the Reformed tradition is partly to be explained by a defective functioning ordained ministry. He traces this back to the origins of the Reformation. The historical experience of power abuse by church authorities seems to have caused a permanent distrust of ordained ministry until today. He offers aspects of an alternative theology of ministry based on Calvin and ecumenical theology in order to discover the importance of ordained ministry for the unity of the church. He argues that the battle cry ‘no popery’ as expression of liberation from an expressive hierarchy might become a sectarian, selfdestructive mechanism if ordained ministry is not re-discovered as a gift to promote the unity of the church. In his contribution, Allan Janssen elaborates on the value of ministry within the Reformed tradition for the unity of the church. He prefers the terminology of ‘offices’ because it helps to understand ordained ministry in a more disciplined way. Offices refer to ordination and to the apostolic nature of the church. Office is the instrument used by Christ to bring scripture to the church. Office is also an instrument of the Spirit. The one Spirit expresses itself in a multitude of gifts and offices. Janssen indicates two problematic aspects of the Reformed

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theology of ministry. It is unclear how this multitude of offices relates to one another, and a personal ministry of oversight is lacking in many churches within the Reformed tradition.

The Basis for the Unity of the Church The understanding of the unity of the church cannot be separated from the understanding of God. How should we relate the Christian confession of the one God to the confession of the one church? The New Testament uses a variety of terms to refer to the church. Well known are the expressions ‘people of God,’ ‘body of Christ,’ and ‘temple of the Spirit.’ Abraham van de Beek provides a biblical-theological appreciation of the terms. He does not want to read them as a Trinitarian triplet, with the first referring to the Father, the second to the Son, and the third to the Spirit. He refuses to relate the unity of the church to the persons of the Trinity as a social community. He understands them as perspectives on the presence of the one God, which only reveal differing aspects of the unity of the church. The one people of God are the people of Christ, for Christ is God’s own coming. Christ’s body cannot be divided since Christ is not divided. The body of Christ refers to the communion with Christ, celebrated in the liturgy. Temple of the Spirit is a very similar concept with a Eucharistic basis, pointing to the sacramental unity of Christ and his people. Phillipe Theron also finds the basis for the unity of the church in its Christological, more specific its soteriological, foundation. Following the Dutch theologian Noordmans, he refuses to find the immanent Trinity behind the economic Trinity. He explains how the unity of the Christ’s corpus crucifixum and the church as Christ’s corpus mysticum is of fundamental importance for the unity of the church as a sign of God’s eschatological kingdom. He relates this analysis to the ongoing debate on reconciliation in church and society in South Africa. Reconciliation has to be understood as justification and as new creation. He is convinced that both the proponents of a theological justification of apartheid and their opponents differed in their political convictions but were theologically much closer than they were willing to concede. In his opinion, both did not observe the fundamental difference between reconciliation as a theological concept, on the one

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hand, and reconciliation as a social and political settlement, on the other. Another theological resource for re-imagining the unity of the church is the oeuvre of Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Ecclesiology stood central in his theological thinking developed in a period when the unity of the church was the central issue of the Kirchenkampf. His understanding of the church as Christ existing as church-community implicated a rejection of the church as a holy or a social community. He made unity the norm for the visible church and purity the norm for the invisible church. Annette Mosher explains its relevance. But is the unity of the church really probed seriously enough if it based on the work of coming and salvation in Christ as Van de Beek and Theron suggest? Christiaan Mostert, with reference to Colin Gunton, is not convinced. The unity of the church has to be rooted in the being of God as triune, and has to be rooted not just in the economic Trinity—which has heavenly accentuated the Christological determinant of ecclesiology—but in the immanent Trinity. An integration of the God a se and God ad extra, the immanent and the economic Trinity, presupposes that the doctrine of the Trinity may be the basis of interference in the realm of creaturely existence. The doxological character of the doctrine of the Trinity prevents a strict deduction from the doctrine of the Trinity in the area of ecclesiology. At the same time, worship as an event of ‘theopoietic’ koinonia in Christ through the Spirit provides a framework within which to connect the Holy Spirit and the church. Mostert refers to the way Volf developed an ecclesiology of communion on the basis of the Trinitarian communion. Volf’s understanding of the unity of the church is eschatological in hope, and at the same time, the communion of the church is an anticipation of the eschatological communion of the church with the triune God. The koinonia of the church, expressed in its life and its worship, is a sharing in the perichoretic communion of the persons of the Trinity, however much the conflict and brokenness that marked the concrete life of the churches suggests the opposite. Volf’s Protestant Trinitarian-based ecclesiology for the one church does not convince Paul Wells. He raises several questions? How to give the Old Testament church a place in this Trinitarian model for church unity? How to link the immanent Trinity and the perichoresis to the unity of the church? Will a perichoretic view of church unity not lead to a spiritual confusion that the Chalcedonian Christology avoided by

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a better distinction between divine and human without confusion? And do the relations of perichoretic communion help us to deal better with current imperfections and heresy in the church? Gijsbert van den Brink, on the contrary, is more positive about the potential of Volf’s Trinitarian ecclesiology for the unity of the church and about Mostert’s support of it. In his contribution, he describes how Volf develops his argument in After Our Likeness with its built-in checks and balances. He appreciates the way Volf is open for developments in ecclesiology in other Christian traditions, especially their communal and Trinitarian approach, without renouncing or absolutizing his own Protestant, more specifically, congregational tradition. Van den Brink likes the way he takes his starting point in the gathering community, stressing the importance of personal faith and public confession for the life of the church. He suggests that Volf give more credit to Reformed covenantal baptismal theology in order to strengthen the communal aspect of his ecclesiology. If one acknowledges the church-dissolving tendency in the striving towards an ecclesia purissima within the Reformed tradition, one realizes how Protestantism, and especially the Reformed tradition, has underestimated the importance of the visibility of the church. Martien Brinkman is of the opinion that this ‘Protestant sin’ can only be rebuffed if a new symbolic understanding of the church can be endorsed. This could be a middle course between the church as Christus prolongatus and the church as an association of believers. Brinkman uses the work of the ecumenical Groupe des Dombes, influenced as they are by Paul Ricoeur. As a sacrament the church is not an extension of Christ, but it is the sacrament of the Spirit of Christ. As sign and sacrament the church is at once the place of presence and the place of distance. Brinkman is convinced that by a better understanding of the symbolic and sacramental character of the church Reformed theologians will find it easier to express the central Reformed conviction that the church is of Christ.

Conclusion The contributions in this volume all share the awareness that the existing disunity of the church worldwide, and more especially within the Reformed tradition, is very problematic, and that it cannot be justified with non-theological arguments. The theological arguments that have

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been used to ‘soften the pain’ are unsatisfying. Better theological discourse is necessary and this volume encourages looking into the issue again and provides new ways to move again on the way. First of all, it offers an assessment of the four traditional instruments for unity of the church within the Reformed tradition. Most scholars agree that the hermeneutical considerations make sola scriptura a problematic instrument for unity in the church—especially when it is used in isolation of other tools. The potential of the sacraments of baptism and Eucharist for the unity of the church, on the other hand, is very promising and requires much more attention. On the question whether the confessions function as an instrument of unity of the church, the answer is less straight forward. Discipline was not contested. The ecumenical dialogues reveal a need for better structures of accountability within the Reformed tradition in relation to aspects of the teaching of the church as well as to its stance on moral and social issues. An improved theology of ministry might be one of the ways by which theologians can be supportive to the development of polities that are more effective in assisting the unity of the church. In all this, the main question is how the unity of the church is related to the understanding of one God. Two answers were provided. The first referred to Christ as the basis for the unity of the church; the second based the unity of the church on a Trinitarian understanding of the one God. It is still unclear whether they exclude each other. Whatever the outcome of this continuing debate, the identity of the church will require a more sacramental understanding.

PART ONE

FRAMING UNITY OF THE CHURCH AS A THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM

CHAPTER ONE

COMMUNION RESPONDING TO GOD’S GIFT Lukas Vischer

A Contradictory Picture It is a cheering sign of the times that in most different Protestant lands, and particularly in the bosom of the Reformed church, in which religious individualism both in the good and the bad sense has been most fully developed, it is coming to be felt more and more that the existing divisions of the Church are wrong, and with this is waking more and more an earnest longing after a true union of all believers.1

These words were written 150 years ago by Philip Schaff (1819–1893), one of the most significant Reformed theologians of the 19th century. Born in Switzerland, he spent most of his active life in the United States. He was one of the great pioneers of the ecumenical movement—a founding father of both the Evangelical Alliance and the World Alliance of Reformed Churches. In his eyes, vision for the great perspectives of the Reformation had been lost. The Reformed churches, undermined by rationalism and sectarianism, had split into a multitude of denominations, groups, and sects. During five decades, he promoted the need for a new departure. “In any view the Reformation must be regarded as still incomplete; it needs yet its concluding act to unite what has fallen asunder, to bring the subjective to a reconciliation with the objective.”2 In 1893, a few months before his death, Schaff, already seriously ill, attended the first session of the World Parliament of Religions in Chicago. There he issued a passionate appeal for:

1 James Hastings Nichols (ed.), The Mercersburg Theology (New York: Oxford University Press, 1966), 136. In 1845, Schaff published a short treatise which quickly led to a controversy: The Principle of Protestantism as Related to the Present State of the Church (Chambersburg: Publication Office of the German Reformed Church, 1845), cf. also David S. Schaff, The Life of Philip Schaff (New York: Scribner, 1897), 106ff. 2 Nichols, The Mercersburg Theology, 130.

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lukas vischer a fraternal pan-Christian Council in Jerusalem, where the mother church of Christendom held the first council of reconciliation and peace. . . . The war between Rome, Constantinople, Wittenberg, Geneva and Oxford, he said, will be fought out to a peaceful end, when all the churches shall be thoroughly Christianized and all the creeds of Christendom unified in the creed of Christ.3

To what extent have these hopes and appeals been fulfilled? Much has changed, indeed. We have witnessed the rise of the ecumenical movement. A new atmosphere has been created. Many Reformed theologians and church leaders have been instrumental in promoting the cause of unity. In some parts of the world, Reformed churches have even become partners in projects of church union. Generally, however, the internal situation of the Reformed churches has hardly changed. Divisions have not only continued but multiplied. Despite their active participation in the ecumenical movement, the sense of the Reformed churches to represent the body of Christ has continually been eroded. The divisions we face today are even more numerous than 150 ago. In many respects the record of the Reformed churches is impressive. Through the missionary movement, the message of the Reformation has penetrated into all parts of the world. Churches of this or that Reformed type can be found in almost every country of the planet. The gospel was heard as a liberating Word of hope. As we look back on the past decades, there is, therefore, much reason for gratitude. But there has also been failure with destructive consequences. Obviously, the Reformed churches have not succeeded in maintaining the bond of unity among themselves. Though effectively proclaimed, the message of reconciliation has been betrayed by conflicts and sectarian splits. The movement which has spread all over the world has not resulted in worldwide fellowship of churches bound together in mutual accountability and support. There are Reformed theologians defending the state of divisions. Some even take pride in the multifaceted diversity of the Reformed universe. The minutes of the General Councils of the World Alliance of Reformed Churches do not provide an altogether edifying reading in this respect. At the General Council in Pittsburgh (1921), for instance, a certain Rev. J.D. Burrel, appealing to what he calls the ‘universal law of natural selection,’ argues that separate development is

3

Schaff, The Life of Philip Schaff, 488.

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in harmony with nature. “Protestantism,” he claims, “swings out into history, not as a detached unit but as segregated clouds of star dust.” Referring to the followers of Luther, Zwingli, Calvin, and Knox, he confidently suggests: “Let them flock by themselves and keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.”4 At the following General Council in Cardiff another speaker declares: “Nor have our past divisions been altogether unhappy. Secessions, disruptions, free church movements are not to be reckoned to our shame. They have largely been our glory. There was a providential reason for most of them.”5 But generally, the state of division is accepted as a challenge, and this is certainly the case at our conference in Cluj. How can fragmentation be overcome? How can the trend towards more and more division be reversed? How can the Reformed churches be more credible signs of God’s kingdom? To some extent, of course, the church is bound to fail in the fulfillment of its mission. Its communion will never be perfect. God’s great design can be reflected in its life no better than pure sunlight is reflected by an imperfect mirror. But these inevitable shortcomings must not be taken as a pretext for taking lightly the divisions which disfigure the face of the church. God has chosen to act through the weakness and imperfection of human beings. We are to be vessels and instruments in God’s service. Without presuming that God’s Spirit is dependent on us, we have to make every possible effort at removing the obstacles which obstruct God’s encounter with the world. The task is daunting. The divisions have accumulated in the course of centuries. While in some cases reunion has become possible, in other cases divisions have continued far beyond the original causes for the split. Old divisions have been filled with new content, and in each generation additional conflicts have arisen which threaten the unity of the body. If there is no change of mind, the history of Reformed divisions is likely to continue in the future. How can a process towards a new manifestation of unity be initiated? Clearly, concerted action is required. No single church can take it upon itself to serve as the focus of unity. Initiatives need to be taken by different churches at the same time. Everywhere in the Reformed world the voice of unity needs to be raised. Everywhere people will need to call into question what tends to be accepted as the inescapable

4 5

Proceedings of the Eleventh General Council in Pittsburgh 1921, Edinburgh 1922, 84. Proceedings of the Twelfth General Council in Cardiff 1925, Edinburgh 1926, 43.

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fate of the Reformed tradition. Each individual and each congregation is called to contribute; but the concern must primarily be on the minds of those bearing responsibility for the churches at the national and international levels. A kind of conversion is required—based on the faith in Jesus Christ in whom no wall, not even the wall between Jews and Gentiles, is strong enough to resist.

Why Are We Divided? Today’s situation is the result of a complicated history. Let me recall here just a few aspects. From the early days of the Reformation, there has been a tendency among the Reformed churches to divide. Struggling for the true church almost inevitably led to controversies, not only with the Church of Rome, but also within the camp of the Reformation. The Reformation movement had to go through numerous debates on doctrine. Later controversies focused on the structure and the government of the church. What form of ministry is required in the church? What role does the local community have to play in governing the church? What are the adequate relations between church and state? In the course of centuries, controversies over questions of this kind gave birth to various Reformed ‘sub-traditions’—Presbyterianism, Congregationalism, and free churches. Although today the controversies have lost much of their sharpness, the sub-traditions continue their separate existence in many places. Other reasons for divisions were the confessions of faith and their permanent authoritative role in the life of the church. Today within the Reformed family, we find churches emphasizing the authority of the confessions of faith and others advocating a more dynamic interpretation of the Reformed heritage. These conflicts were followed by disputes over the nature and authority of the Bible. Fundamentalism has made deep inroads into the Reformed family. Other divisions were caused by attempts at renewing the church—e.g., the movement of the Disciples of Christ, the revival of the 19th century, and, in recent times, the response to Pentecostalism which turns out to be divisive in more and more countries. No doubt that behind all these developments there is the desire to be faithful to the gospel. Something of the ethos of the Reformers is at work in these splits. God alone must be obeyed. Where God’s truth is at stake, no compromise can be admitted. The history of the

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Reformed churches illustrates at the same time, however, that any attempt at preserving the true church by splitting is eventually selfdefeating. Anyone seeking doctrinal purity by separating from others runs the risk of sectarianism. Reformers like Calvin were aware of this danger and therefore did not spare any effort to preserve the unity of God’s church. Under no circumstances should the Reformation be seen as an attempt to found a ‘new’ church.6 Later generations were less restrained, and again and again the same process of separation was repeated. Instead of manifesting the true face of the church, the oneness of the body of Christ was obscured. Often, in the history of Reformed churches, divisions occurred in connection with the church’s witness in society. Churches parted ways, for instance, on the issue of slavery, race discrimination, recognition or non-recognition of dictatorial regimes, or the rejection of communism. Today, the unity of many Reformed churches is threatened by issues like the ordination of women, the attitude to homosexuality, and the approach to other religions. Debates on such issues are, of course, inevitable, and since they touch on the substance and the integrity of the church’s witness, they are bound to be fierce. But do they have to lead to separation? The price of separating needs to be carefully weighed. Though it may temporarily bring clarity, it can easily turn out to be destructive in the long run because history goes on! The issue at stake will fade and the church will have to face new challenges. But once consummated, the separation is likely to persist much longer. In some cases divided Reformed churches are simply monuments to the memory of past debates. Every effort needs, therefore, to be made to maintain at least a remnant of unity even in the fiercest conflicts. For clarity’s sake, temporary separation may be inevitable, but basically the struggle for the church’s true witness must take place within the communion of the church. With a view to today’s great debates, it will be essential to find ways of taking sides for the sake of the gospel without definitively breaking the communion between the churches. At this moment in history, this consideration applies especially to those Reformed churches which, legitimately, have taken a clear stand on apartheid.

6 A number of texts illustrating this concern can be found in Lukas Vischer, Pia Conspiratio, John Knox Series, n° 12, Geneva, 2000.

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A third reason for the divided state of the Reformed family lies in the history of the missionary movement. In the last two centuries, individual churches and mission agencies have engaged in missionary work in the same country without coordinating their efforts with the work of other churches. In many places, therefore, several Reformed churches have come into being. They have never separated, but are separated ‘by birth.’ Though they share basically the same teaching and the same organizational patterns, they have developed separately and, in the course of history, have acquired distinct characteristics. In some cases, they now represent a particular class or minority within the population of the country. Generally, they have closer links with their ‘mother’ churches abroad than with each other. Though, of course, they have drastically modified their mission strategies, mission agencies continue to have an impact on their life and witness. The missionary movement has not laid the ground for a common witness of the Reformed churches within each country. In some countries, Reformed churches are not even aware of each other’s existence. Unfortunately, these non-coordinated efforts continue today. In many places, Reformed and Evangelical mission agencies are at work without paying much attention to the need for witnessing to the fundamental oneness of the body of Christ’s body. In this respect, a particular challenge is the extended and impressive missionary work of the thoroughly divided Presbyterian churches in Korea. The fourth factor I want to refer to is migration. Many separate Reformed churches are the result of migration. The most striking illustration is provided by the situation in the United States. To a large extent, the diversity of the Reformed churches in the United States is due to different waves of immigration. Scottish, Dutch, German, and Hungarian immigrants did not gather in one church, but formed their own churches which continue to exist today. If no radical change of perspective takes place, the same process is likely to be repeated with the increasing Chinese and Korean communities in the United States. There is, of course, much to be said in favor of ethnic communities. People arriving in a foreign land need to be given the opportunity to worship in their mother tongue and to cultivate their inherited culture. But can this legitimate need justify separation? Does not the gospel, on the contrary, teach the relativity of nations and national identities? In the light of the biblical witness, separation along ethnic lines is an obvious denial of God’s gift of grace. If it true that ‘in Christ there is no Jew nor Gentile,’ people of different ethnic origins will recognize

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each other as members of the one body of Christ. They will rejoice in the diversity of gifts and seek to communicate with one another despite their differences. The true church is a sign of God’s intention to gather all nations. Migration is likely to increase in the future. More and more people will move or will have to move due to wars, misery, ecological catastrophes, and other adverse circumstances. In urban centers, the Christian presence will become increasingly multiethnic. Take the example of Geneva—in a relatively short time, dozens of Christian communities of foreign origin have sprung up in the city. The challenge of unity is becoming increasingly complex. How can the oneness of God’s church be manifested in an ethnically pluralistic society? It is essential that Reformed churches develop constructive answers to this question.

Why Do Reformed Churches So Easily Divide? Normally, the official arguments put forward by the protagonists of a conflict are not the whole story. In reality, a variety of human factors are involved. Differences of race, language, and culture can sharpen the conflict. Often economic interests are at stake, and in almost all cases, ambition and pride play a determining role. Divisions are the result of power struggles, and often it is the fear of losing status and influence which prevents church leaders from promoting the union or re-union of ‘their’ church. Situations of division cannot adequately be understood without an honest and thorough analysis of all these factors. But then a disturbing question arises. Why is it that Reformed churches succumb more readily to the pressures threatening their unity than churches of other Protestant traditions, especially the Anglican and Lutheran churches? Are there aspects in their theological and spiritual convictions which make them more vulnerable than others in this respect? Observing and analyzing the history of the Reformed churches, I am increasingly inclined to say that this is the case. It is not just a moral failure. The Reformed propensity to divide must have deeper reasons. The trend towards more and more division can therefore not be reversed by mere appeals. Nor can reunion be achieved merely by the introduction of new programs and projects. Structural considerations, as imaginative as they may be, are not enough. A theological and spiritual re-orientation is required. There is need for a fresh reflection on the relationship between the great affirmations of the Reformation

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and the significance of the gift of communion. It must become clear that the great emphases of the Reformation make sense only as long as they are supported by a strong commitment to the church. Their implementation requires from each and every member of the church a strong ‘discipline of communion.’ Three considerations may serve as illustrations: The Reformation emphasized the presence of Christ in the church. Through his Word and spirit, Christ, the crucified and risen Lord, communicates himself to the church today. One of the earliest Reformed confessions, the Berne theses of 1528, stated, “The holy Christian Church whose only head is Christ has been born from God’s word, she stays with it and does not listen to any extraneous voice.” Christ’s presence is not mediated by the church; rather, through his presence the church comes into being. “Through Word and spirit Christ gathers, protects and preserves the Church” (Heidelberg Catechism 54).” It is the creature of the word, and bound to respond to the word. This emphasis is a source of immense freedom. The church is not determined by its past. Christ is her life, and as it conforms to him and his word, it is capable of renewal and of new departures. The church is a wandering people, constantly transcending what it has received from earlier generations. But there are also risks involved. With this emphasis Reformed Christians easily underestimate the significance of the church for the Christian faith. They tend to think that it is the result of their own response to God’s Word and easily forget that it existed long before they came to believe in Christ and decided to follow him as disciples. Through the Spirit, God has been creating the church from generation to generation. It has been the sign of God’s faithfulness through the centuries. Its doors have been opened for us in our time and we have been included in its communion. The church is not a voluntary association called to serve the cause of Christ; rather, it is Christ present in the world, associating us with him and his purposes. As another 19th century American theologian, John Williamson Nevin, put it pointedly: “The Church does not rest upon its members but the members rest upon the Church.”7 The same thought was expressed by John Calvin when he spoke of the church as the mother and those who believe as her children. “There is no way of entering permanent

7

Nichols, The Mercersburg Theology, 40.

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life than through being conceived in the womb of this mother; she has to give birth and to feed us with her breasts; she has to sustain and to guard us under her guidance and government until we shall be freed from this flesh and shall be like angels.”8 Reformed Christians have to learn anew that the church is a gift which needs to be received and respected. No other sign expresses the gift character of the church more vividly than the celebration of the Eucharist. In my view, it is therefore essential that the Reformed churches re-discover the significance of this sign. As long as the celebration of the Eucharist is neglected, Reformed worship will remain truncated. The New Testament leaves no doubt that the Eucharist was an integral part of Christian worship. Faithful to the evidence of scripture, John Calvin promoted the regular celebration of the supper. It is one of the ironies of history that the Reformed churches have developed a practice which is in contradiction with the witness of scripture. The Reformers emphasized the value and freedom of each person. Through his Word Christ speaks to each person. Whoever receives the gospel, whoever is incorporated in Christ’s body by the sign of baptism, men and women, people of all classes and cultures, have direct access to God. They are free. They can speak to God and are called to use their judgment in listening to God’s word. They are to contribute their gifts to the building up of the church. They are all priests, and the church is, therefore, a communion of priests which does not need the mediation of priests to invoke God’s presence in their midst. Again a liberating message! But again there are risks involved. As they think of the church, Reformed Christians tend to start from their own experience, insights, and judgments. They tend to look upon the church as an association of individuals. They have difficulty in fully recognizing the role of the church in communicating, nourishing, and protecting the faith. Philip Schaff, whom I quoted in the beginning, is right in saying the following: Only in regular and rational subordination can the individual Christian be truly free; his or her personal piety can as little come to perfection apart from inward and outward communion with the life of the Church as a limb apart from the body or a branch torn from the wine.9

8 9

Institutes IV, 1,4. Nichols, The Mercersburg Theology, 126.

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We are free only insofar as we recognize ourselves to be part of the whole—a minuscule element in God’s great design in which we are called to participate. Many divisions could have been avoided if these two aspects had consistently been kept together. The Reformation emphasized the significance of the local church. “Where two or three are gathered in my name, I am in their midst”10 is among the biblical passages most often quoted by the Reformers. Christ is present in the church where the Word is preached and the sacraments are administered. He is, therefore, present in the local community that is assembled to listen to the Word and to celebrate the Lord’s supper. There is no mediating hierarchy required. Each local church has direct access to Christ. As it listens to his word, it receives the whole gospel and all gifts that it needs for the fulfillment of its calling. The emphasis has far reaching consequences in the life of Reformed churches. On the one hand, it has led to a strong sense of the responsibility of each local congregation. On the other hand, it has reduced the vision of the universal church. True, the Reformed and especially the Presbyterian churches have developed structures for common decision making, both at the local and national levels. But the Reformed churches have not succeeded in developing a strong sense of common responsibility at the universal level of the church’s life. There has always been a deep seated mistrust of any authority and decision making beyond the national level. Each church tends to act independently of the others— each considers itself responsible for formulating its confession of faith, for training its pastors, for conceiving of its evangelistic and missionary work, and its role in society. The individual Reformed churches do not pay attention, as a matter of course, to the common calling and mission of all Reformed churches. Attempts of the World Alliance of Reformed Churches to develop common perspectives draw a minimal response. The consequence of this self-sufficiency is an uncoordinated approach to issues that concern the common witness of all Reformed churches—their confession, their self-understanding, and their missionary outreach. Is this inevitable? Or can this weakness be overcome without losing what is sound in the emphasis on the significance of the local church? An urgent need for the Reformed churches is to strengthen their vision of the universal church and to combine the

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Mt. 18:20.

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recognition of Christ’s presence in the local church with a new respect for Christ’s presence in all local churches.

Responding to God’s Gift of Communion—An Ongoing Task As we seek to overcome the divisions which paralyze the common witness, what kind of unity are we looking for? In Reformed circles, I think it is of paramount importance from the very beginning to get rid of a widespread prejudice. The unity we seek is not the end of diversity. For giving expression to the oneness of the Church of Jesus Christ, there is no need for the churches to adopt identical ways of thinking and acting. Insisting on uniformity is one of the reasons for division. The decisive point is that despite their diverse profiles, the churches succeed in recognizing and respecting each other, in establishing living communication, and in mutually supporting their witness. Visible unity is a living communion which puts an end, not to diversity, but to fragmentation, mutual indifference, and the scandal of visible disunity. Communion is primarily a spiritual reality. We are one in giving thanks and praise to God. For this reason, the Reformers placed much emphasis on the proclamation of the Word and the celebration of the Lord’s supper. They knew that the spiritual source of communion had to be constantly recalled and placed before the church. In order to maintain their unity, Christians had to return again and again to God’s promise. Movements towards unity can only bear fruits by concentrating on the primary spiritual reality. It would be an illusion, however, to expect that unity will spontaneously emerge. In order for communion not to remain a mere idea or sentiment, a framework is required by which the common life and witness of the church is supported and protected, and on which it can rely. Reformed Christians have a strange double attitude to structures—they either minimize their significance, or on the contrary, get obsessed with structural debates. Both approaches are unrealistic and shortsighted. Today, many churches ‘lose their soul’ in debates on structural adaptation. But it remains true that, in order to resist the pressures of disunity, agreements are indispensable. In order to survive, communion needs the appropriate vessels. This is so for the church in each country and also for the universal communion of all churches. Communion can only exist and function if it is built on a common basis and can rely on agreed structures.

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Even more important is perhaps the recognition that communion is a constant process. Unity is never definitively achieved but is in constant need of being rebuilt. Communion is vulnerable; it can easily be broken. Disunity is like a weed that appears and reappears after it has been removed. As part of discipleship there is, therefore, a discipline of communion required. Where divisions have occurred, oppositions and antagonisms have to be overcome. Negative memories need to be purified. Where unity is threatened, tensions and hidden feelings need to be brought into the open. In Reformed churches, because of their particular vulnerability, this constant effort at healing and constructing is even more necessary than in other traditions. A constant movement, sustained by imagination and perseverance, needs to take place in the Reformed churches.

What About The Way Forward? What does all this mean for the future? Let me, in conclusion, offer the following seven considerations: Reformed churches need to become more fully aware of each other. Today they have a rather limited knowledge of their family. As a rule they know the churches of their own country and certain partners with whom they have historical links. But generally, they have no clear idea of the totality of the Reformed family and the extent of its divisions. Documentation, mutual information, and sharing stories of the past and the present are therefore urgent priorities. They are prerequisites of an increased consciousness of their common calling.11 Initiatives towards unity need to be taken in each country. With the Reformed emphasis on the significance of the local church, the movement towards unity cannot be dictated from above, but must start from below. The churches from the same region need to meet. They will seek to establish an atmosphere of mutual confidence. Through contacts, personal friendship, and common celebration they will seek to enlarge their common ground. Why have divisions occurred? What can possibly be done to overcome them? They will seek to establish the 11 An attempt of an exhaustive survey has been made by Jean-Jacques Bauswein and Lukas Vischer, The Reformed Family Worldwide (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999). The volume gives country by country a short description of the Reformed churches. The survey still contains valuable information but requires, of course, regular updating.

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main challenges to the missionary calling in their respective countries. Eventually, they will decide on the form of unity which is most appropriate for their common witness. This emphasis on national plans of unity does not mean that no action from outside is required. In many countries, disunity has its cause in factors outside their boundaries. As the churches of a given country seek one another, much depends on the attitude of churches and mission agencies abroad. How will they relate to their partner churches? More and more the rule should be respected generally that, in their relations with a given country, churches should keep in mind, and promote the common life and witness of all Reformed churches. As long as they relate exclusively to ‘their’ church, the impact of their witness and especially their financial support can easily turn out to be negative. Unintentionally, they often contribute to maintaining and even solidifying existing divisions. Examples abound. As they decide to be guided by the needs of the common life and witness of all Reformed churches, they can serve as catalysts of unity. Urgently required is new common thinking about the legitimacy and the role of ethnic churches resulting from today’s great movements of migration. In many places, the face of the Christian presence has fundamentally changed. Society is becoming more and more pluralistic. The increasing number of new communities, often of Pentecostal background, present a new challenge to communication. How can we succeed in showing that the Christian communion transcends ethnic barriers? Increasingly, the ‘historical’ churches are becoming aware of the challenge. Numerous statements have been issued in the recent past. But how can we move from the level of ‘study’ and principles to the realization of actual communion? Experience shows that the impact of theological seminaries on the mission and unity of the Reformed churches is highly ambivalent. Seminaries can be sectarian centers. In many cases, they have been responsible for doctrinal disputes. By their teaching they can create a spirit of exclusiveness. In many cases, they have been responsible for doctrinal disputes leading eventually to ruptures. But they can also promote a wider horizon and lay the ground for a discipline of communion. How can schools become instruments of unity? As a rule, Reformed churches place strong emphasis on teaching. Many Reformed schools have their own theological school. But instead of competing in their teaching, can they not bring together students from various churches thus exposing them to richer perspectives?

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The traditional double emphasis of Reformed churches on theological clarity and the capacity to independent thinking needs to be combined in the service of communion. For unity to be effectively promoted, a stronger center at the universal level is called for. To develop common perspectives on doctrine, government, and witness in society, ways must be found to come together, and to reflect and act together. A real sense of universality can only develop if the various parts of the Reformed family form a multilateral fellowship and agree to be challenged by synodal structures, also at the universal level. Today there are a variety of ‘partial’ international associations—Reformed churches meet in the Commission on World Mission (CWM), the Communauté des Eglises Evangéliques pour l’Action Apostolique (CEEVA), and several other such fellowships of churches. They fulfill an indispensable function. But they remain partial. In principle, the World Alliance of Reformed Churches (WARC) represents a more encompassing instrument, but in its present form it is too weak to challenge the present state of Reformed divisions consistently and effectively. It is a hopeful sign that at its General Council in Accra (2004), WARC committed itself to a gradual transformation of the ‘Alliance’ into a ‘communion.’ New perspectives of unity have been opened by negotiations with other international Reformed associations—in particular, the Reformed Ecumenical Council (REC). Conversations with the Disciples of Christ are underway. But the decisive question will be whether the Reformed churches are prepared to equip the new body to act more fully as a center and symbol of communion, as clearing house and facilitator of unifying relationships. Ultimately, communion in Christ is a fellowship of prayer and intercession. It is therefore essential that prayer for unity takes root in the Reformed churches and the movement towards communion is supported by informed intercession for one another. Can prayers for communion be provided which find their regular place in worship services? For the General Council in Seoul (1989), an attempt was made in this direction. Let me conclude by quoting one of these prayers which were then proposed: O Lord our God who has reconciled us to yourself and to one another through the death of Jesus Christ and has entrusted to us the ministry of reconciliation, keep before our minds the price that you have paid for the salvation of the world. Crucify our pride, destroy our enmities and let the cross of your son bear all the fruits of righteousness and peace.

CHAPTER TWO

CHURCH UNITY, TERRITORIALISM, AND STATE FORMATION IN THE ERA OF CONFESSIONALISATION Wim Janse

Introduction and Argument This Cluj conference sets out to investigate which theological aspects have contributed to the weak sensus unitatis within Reformed ecclesiology. As a church historian, in this essay, I will consider historical aspects responsible for the weak sense of inter- and intra-ecclesiastical unity among the Reformed. Taking a historical perspective, I will focus on the role that the church was forced to play in early modern Europe as an instrument of the state. The late sixteenth and seventeenth century European churches were confessional churches: they stuck to a creed or confession as an internal and external norm and ‘party statute,’ and monopolized their world view. At the same time, Europe saw the formation of the early modern state, whose purpose was to create a disciplined society of subjects. Under the regime of the early modern state, the national denominational church necessarily served the ‘higher’ purpose of the political leaders. Of course, the church had its own religious and charitable goals, and, of course, lip service was paid to the unity and catholicity of the Christian church. However, as organs of the political powers—to which they owed their right to exist, the salaries of their ministers, recognition, and protection—the churches’ first job was to look after the socio-political interests of their local or national governments. What interests were these, and why did the state choose the church as its instrument? For its consolidation process, the early modern state needed loyal subjects and well-educated public servants. Initially lacking adequate tools for the supervision and social disciplining of the masses, and for the training of an intellectual elite of its own, the state sought to shape the behavior and thinking of its citizens through the church by means of regulations regarding marriage and family, confessional education, social welfare, and church discipline. This social

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disciplining or civilizing process by the confessional church functioning as an instrument of the growing absolutist state is labeled, by a fashionable term from societal history, as ‘confessionalisation.’ The European confessionalisation processes, whether Lutheran, Reformed, Anglican, or Catholic, did not allow the cultivation of interdenominational church unity, nor stimulate the formation of theories about this concept. In addition to the national ecclesiastical and political constellation just sketched, there were other historical principles that did not exactly stimulate ecclesiastical reunification or even reflection on internal and external church unity. Most prominent among these was the triad of territorialism, (limited) tolerance, and church privilegization. ‘Territorialism’ refers to the geographically regulated religious peace inherent in the Princes’ Reformation (Fürstenreformation). This reformation stemmed from a personal decision and confessional choice of the prince, and resulted in the principle that became known by the seventeenth century formula, cuius regio eius religio (whose [the] rule, his [the] religion). Contrary to what is usually assumed, this territorial principle of the ius reformandi (right to reform) and confessional plurality was not introduced with the Peace of Augsburg of 1555, in the German Reich, but as early as 1531 at the Peace of Kappel in Switzerland. Limited religious tolerance was decreed, for instance, in France by the Edict of Nantes of 1598, which provided temporary freedom to practice the ‘so-called Reformed religion,’ albeit only on the feudal estates of lords having high justice (authority over capital crimes). Church privilegization, i.e., recognition by the authorities as the ‘public’ church, at the disadvantage of other denominations, was found in the Dutch Republic. Apart from any theological argumentation, it was all these early modern government regulations with regard to religion ordered along confessional lines that were responsible for the harsh treatment of the ecclesiological concept of transconfessional and transnational unity. This means that the main reasons for this were non-theological. I will explain and elaborate this historical reality.

Confessionalisation In current historiography, the last term in the title of this essay, confessionalisation, has different connotations than it has in traditional church-historical parlance. In the classical meaning of the word, con-

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fessionalisation refers to the development of confessional churches: that is, the fragmentation of medieval European Christianity—the christianitas latina—into various denominations with their own separate creeds. In the sixteenth century, this differentiation led to the confessional dualism of (post-Tridentine) Catholicism, on the one hand, and Protestantism, on the other, and to the multi-confessionality of the Catholic, Anglican, Lutheran, Reformed or Calvinist churches, and the Anabaptist societies—not to mention numerous unaffiliated spiritualists, libertines, neutralists, and indifferents. In short, in traditional historiography, confessionalisation simply referred to the church institutionalization process as it took place between 1500 and 1685. Thus, the term characterized the middle period of the three ages of Christianity: the age of catholicity (early church and Middle Ages), of confessionalisation (the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries), and of ecumenicity (the modern history period). In more recent German and American historical research, however, confessionalisation has become the paradigm and object of social history. In a plea for an integrated historical approach, the German historians Wolfgang Reinhard and Heinz Schilling have demanded attention for the social consequences of this church institutionalization process. Of course, given the total dominance of religion in early modern culture, religious shifts could not but have social consequences. As a result, in more recent historiography confessionalisation means “the process by which state, culture, judiciary, arts and sciences, and eventually all of society are penetrated, changed, and formed by the spirit of a confessional Christianity,”1 as the impulse and prelude to the modern era. Although this new social-historical concept has received its fair share of criticism,2 it nevertheless points to an important process. By

1 Johannes Wallmann, “Lutherische Konfessionalisierung—ein Überblick,” in HansChristoph Rublack (ed.), Die lutherische Konfessionalisierung in Deutschland: Wissenschaftliches Symposion des Vereins für Reformationsgeschichte 1988 [Schriften des Vereins für Reformationsgeschichte 197] (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus Mohn, 1992), 33–53, here 35. 2 See, for instance, Athina Lexutt’s overview, “Konfessionalisierung—neuer Schlauch für alten Wein?,” Verkündigung und Forschung 45 (2000), 3–24; also Thomas Kaufmann, “Die Konfessionalisierung von Kirche und Gesellschaft. Sammelbericht über eine Forschungsdebatte,” Theologische Literaturzeitung 121 (1996), 1008–25, 1112–21. This definition of ‘confessionalisation’ does not fully do justice to the religious pluriformity and regional diversity in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Moreover, not every development—for instance, the rising neutralism—was linked to a confession.

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entering the political sphere European churches contributed to the consolidation of the state. The state exercised its power over its subjects by means of the popular education that the church considered its religious duty to provide; by means of the poor relief which—for instance, by way of obligatory church membership—offered a hold on an otherwise lost group; and by means of church discipline ingrained into large segments of the population by especially Calvinist and Catholic ethics. This gave the church the power to shape culture, and sometimes even stimulated the birth of a national identity. In this respect, I will only mention the diligence, frugality, and enterprise of Dutch Calvinists and English Puritans.3 Note that here we are speaking of the early modern church, i.e., the church that knew its specific confession was the basis for being tolerated (as in the case of the French Reformed and the Eastern European Unitarians), having a privileged position (as the Dutch Reformed enjoyed), or as a national church being subject to government authority (in the case of the Lutherans, the South-German and Swiss cities, and the Anglicans)—that is to say, the church whose confession implied its right to exist. Striving for interconfessional unity would simply have undermined its raison d’être. This made a focus on internal, local, and national unity a political sine qua non.

Territorialism The religious landscape of the sixteenth century was completely dominated, not by the church, but by the political authorities in power. The Spanish-Habsburg realm of Charles V and his successors—covering most of Europe—recognized only one religion, Roman Catholicism; its monopoly was ensured by the state inquisition, which in Spain had been active from 1478 and in the Low Countries from 1522. In Italy, the long arm of the Roman inquisition, established in 1542, also effectively blocked all confessional diversity in cooperation with local authorities. The repression of non-Catholics by the English Queen Mary (1553–

3 In the longer term, this pluriform and competitive confessionalism contributed not only to the debacle of the Thirty Years’ War (1618–1648), but intellectually also to rationalism, finally leaving only one path to social peace: that of tolerance. This in turn was to play a role in the secularization of society. Cf. Carter Lindberg, The European Reformations (Oxford: Blackwell, 1996), 359.

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1558) is sufficiently well known. The Elizabethan Settlement of 1559, which was mainly aimed at securing royal supremacy, did not allow Catholics and the more radical Protestants a place in England’s via media church. In Scandinavia, Lutheran monarchs ensured the exclusive rights of their denomination. In all these regions, there was no question of an effort towards inter-confessional unity. The same applies to the Swiss Confederation and the German Reich, where the implementation of the territorial principle marked the geographical and dogmatic fixation of the Reformation—and, at the same time, its end. As early as 1531 Switzerland had been confessionally divided into Catholic and Reformed cantons—to prevent renewed armed religious conflict. In order to avoid increasing religious differentiation and a weakening of societal unity, the German imperial estates in 1555 codified the territorial bi-confessionalism which had been a fait accompli since the 1526 Diet of Speyer. This meant that only two religions were recognized: that of the ‘adherents of the Augsburg confession’ (of 1530) and the Catholic. The disastrous fifth article of the peace treaty excluded the Zwinglians, Calvinists, Anabaptists, and other Protestant ‘sects.’ The Catholic and Lutheran states were granted the right to determine the religion of their subjects. Anybody who could not accept the government’s decision was allowed to leave the country. Thus, the Peace of Augsburg outlawed ‘dissidents,’ and moreover fostered a congealing of Lutheranism into a rigid dogmatism. After 1531 and 1555 the search for interdenominational unity was simply no longer part of the equation. Anybody in Germany, who—for instance, following Philipp Melanchthon—held heterodox (Calvinist) views risked dismissal and banishment. The Saxon Elector August put his own crypto-Calvinist court physician Caspar Peucer, Dean of the Wittenberg Faculty of Medicine, behind bars for twelve years. The North German Hanseatic League town of Bremen was threatened with economic sanctions—withdrawal of their toll rights on the Øresund—when the city refused to dismiss a Reformed theologian. Any deviation from the Lutheran position and contact with dissidents meant exclusion from the protection of the Augsburg imperial peace. This was the reason why not only John Calvin, but also the German Prince William of Orange failed to obtain financial and military support from the German Protestant Electors for the persecuted French and Dutch Protestants, who were suffering in the ruinous French Wars of Religion and the Dutch Revolt against the SpanishHabsburg supremacy, respectively. For the German Lutherans, the

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blood of imperial peace was thicker than the troubled waters of their persecuted, Reformed, fellow Protestants. In short, the 1555 Peace of Augsburg seduced Lutheranism into opting for the status quo at the cost of Western European Protestant unity. In the regions mentioned, the territorial principle did not exactly stimulate reflection on ecclesiastical unity. Confessional uniformity was the condition and basis for social and political stability. From all perspectives—religious, political, economic, and social—the experience of outside unity was beyond the pale; rather, theology served to block out alternative philosophies of life.

Ecumenism Understood in Partisan Terms Does this mean that the Protestants did not seek interdenominational unity at all? Actually, they did. At first they even sought an alliance with the mother church, and in the second half of the sixteenth century Protestants in Eastern Europe looked for unity among themselves. Lutheran-Zwinglian and Protestant-Catholic colloquies, however, which for the most part continued to be held until well into the 1550s, all foundered on points of theology and partisanship. The failure of these conversations is marked by the production and canonization of exclusive rather than inclusive confessions in the 1560s. Thus, the German-Swiss dialogue—for instance, the one held in Marburg in 1529—broke down on sacramentology and pneumatology. The imperial Protestant-Catholic colloquies of Augsburg (1530), Hagenau/ Worms (1540–1541), Regensburg (1541 and 1546), and Worms (1557) also failed. The Tridentine Council (1545–1563) slammed the door in the Protestants’ faces—it was only opened again with the arrival of the ecumenical movement in the twentieth century. The Calvinist attempt to close the yawning chasm with the Lutherans by means of the 1549 Agreement of Zurich even turned against them, and only served to make the rift with Germany irreparable, as again became clear at the Lutheran-Reformed Colloquy of Maulbronn in 1564. The vision entertained by the Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Cranmer, and Calvin—also shared by Zwinglians as Thomas Erastus—of a European Protestant Council providing a united view on Christian doctrine against the Council of Trent was shipwrecked on the complexity of European political relations. At the 1561 Colloquy of Poissy between

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the Gallican church and the Catholics, one of the last great early modern efforts to combine reform with reconciliation, both sides “were more interested in conversions than in convergence.”4 Only in parts of Eastern Europe did different denominations succeed in achieving a peaceful coexistence. But here, too, politics and not theology was the deciding factor, both as an underlying necessity and by providing the space for this form of harmony. In the multi-national Principality of Transylvania, no single denomination had the clout to proclaim itself the true official church. It was at the instigation of the Unitarian Prince János Zsigmond that, for this reason, the legendary 1568 Diet of Torda decreed religious freedom for Antitrinitarians, Lutherans, and Calvinists. The groundwork for this had been laid earlier under his rule, in a continuous process aimed at the stabilization of Transylvanian society by consecutive diets at Torda from 1548 to 1571. Under John’s Catholic successor, Prince István Báthory, this tolerance was extended to include the Catholics, who were accepted as a church, and the Orthodox.5 In Poland-Lithuania, the 1570 Synod of Sandomir decided to have a formal union of Calvinists, Lutherans, and Bohemian Brethren (Unitas Fratrum) to ward off Catholic repression. This union, however, lasted for only 25 years, due to internal divisions and conflicts and the Catholic recovery. Religious toleration in the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth was explicitly politically motivated: in the administrative vacuum left by the death of King Zygmunt II (1572), it was the nobles who, by signing the Warsaw Confederation of 1573—which granted absolute religious freedom even to Jews, Muslims, and religious sects—secured the political unity, in order to prevent religious fanaticism and social disruption such as the 1572 St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre in France. An alternative to the Swiss-German cuius regio formula, the Polish-Lithuanian model was based on individual freedom of conscience and hence was ‘modern.’ The lack of territorial institutionalization, however, seriously weakened

4

Donald Nugent, “Poissy, Colloquy of,” in Hans J. Hillerbrand et al. (eds.), The Oxford Encyclopedia of the Reformation 3 (New York: Oxford University Press), 281–82, here 282. The paragraph heading “Ecumenism understood in partisan terms” also comes from this entry. 5 István György Tóth, “Old and New Faith in Hungary, Turkish Hungary, and Transylvania,” in Ronny Po-Chia Hsia (ed.), A Companion to the Reformation World [Blackwell Companions to European History] (Malden: Blackwell, 2006), 205–20, here 216.

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the Protestant position and definitely contributed to the success of the Counter-Reformation after 1600.6 How about the quest for internal, intra-denominational unity of European Protestants? In this era of polarizing confessionalism, such aspirations in the end only served the socio-psychological need for self-preservation. In Lutheran Germany, the production of territorially linked confession texts (corpora doctrinae) was intended to end the numerous internal conflicts among the Lutherans that had started after Luther’s death in 1546. The purpose of the annihilation of heterodoxy by means of a unitary norm was to ensure the protection of the imperial peace of Augsburg—i.e., self-preservation. The culmination and conclusion of this Lutheran Konfessionsbildung (formation of confessions), the Formula of Concord, keystone of the 1580 Book of Concord, primarily served to continue the internal divisions among the Protestants: it solemnly condemned Zwinglians and Calvinists as ‘sacramentarians.’ Its Reformed counterpart, the Harmonia confessionum fidei orthodoxarum et reformatarum ecclesiarum (Harmony of the Confessions of Faith of the Orthodox and Reformed Churches), a collection of Protestant confessional writings published anonymously in Geneva in 1581, was intended as an answer to the Lutheran Book of Concord. In order to demonstrate the basic doctrinal unity of the various Reformed churches and their alleged similarity to Lutheranism, the Harmony also included, among other documents, more conciliatory Lutheran creeds, such as Melanchthon’s altered Augsburg (1540) and Saxon Confessions (1551), and Johann Brenz’s Wurttemberg Confession (1552); apparent contradictions had been harmonized. However, this attempt at church reconciliation failed, as soon afterwards the Lutheran-Reformed confessional polemics flared up again. For the 1654 edition of the Harmonia, all confessions directly influenced by Zwingli as well as the entire German Reformed and Puritan confessional traditions were removed: as it turned out, the Harmonia was not so harmonious at all. In relation to the weak ecclesiology of Reformed Protestantism, special mention should be made of the danger of a simplification in which the historical pluriformity of this branch of Protestantism 6 Michael G. Müller, “Protestant Confessionalisation in the Towns of Royal Prussia and the Practice of Religious Toleration in Poland-Lithuania,” in Ole Peter Grell and Bob Scribner (eds.), Tolerance and Intolerance in the European Reformation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 262–81, here 269.

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is not taken into account. From the very first, the Reformed family included several children, born under varying political constellations: in Strasbourg, Geneva, Zurich, but also in Southern Germany, Heidelberg, Herborn, and Saumur. Even within the Calvinist corner of the Reformed faction, parties such as Aristotelians and Ramists—following the lines of Theodore Beza and the philosopher Peter Ramus, respectively—were diametrically opposed. It was not only local political situations and theological idiosyncrasy, but also, on the international level, the lack of a central European Reformed institution able to regulate the pluriformity, which contributed to the substantial differences, many facets, and divisions within Reformed Protestantism. In view of this diversification and fragmentation, it need not surprise us to find a low-key attitude towards church unity in the Reformed denominations as well.

Church Privilegization, Pragmatic Tolerance, and Conclusion Sometimes, however, life proved stronger than dogma, and the necessity to live in close proximity within a small area led to pragmatic tolerance, even among the Reformed. In the Dutch Republic, for instance, the Reformed were the privileged denomination. The public religious practice of Catholics, Anabaptists, Lutherans, and all other religious minorities had been forbidden by the 1579 Union of Utrecht. Despite this, the (Reformed) authorities turned a blind eye to these services on payment of what was called ‘recognition money.’ On Sunday, the minister preached the Reformed doctrine as the only true religion; on Monday, he bought his bread from the Catholic baker and went to the Hebrew class taught by the local and officially detested rabbi. In this way, institutional intolerance was combined with personal tolerance regarding dissidents.7 This was the usual modus vivendi in a society with a deep-rooted confessional pluriformity. In 1614, a pamphleteer described such sects in the Netherlands as “Coornhertists, Arminians, Vorstianen or Polish Brethren [i.e., Socinians], papists, Mennonites, David Jorists, Familists [i.e., followers of Hendrik Niclaes

7 See also, e.g., Judith Pollmann, Religious Choice in the Dutch Republic: The Reformation of Arnoldus Buchelius (1565–1641) (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1999).

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and his Family of Love], and even more, which infest the country in exactly the same way as mosquitoes in the summer.”8 During the great National Synod at Dordrecht (1618–1619), it happened that a Swiss delegate, to his great surprise, had been lodged with a family of which the father and the son belonged to the old mother church, the mother and daughter were Reformed, the mother-in-law was a Baptist, and the uncle a Jesuit. This tolerationist tendency is characteristic of the famous Dutch ‘polder model’: in a country reclaimed from the sea it was unavoidable, because of the permanent threat from the water, that people should be considerate of each other, confer, and collaborate. Although the Republic was no paradise “where the wolf sported with the lamb and the fox left the chickens in peace, . . . it was the most tolerant state of the Ancien Régime,” according to a Roman Catholic Church historian.9 However, the motives behind the proverbial Dutch tolerance were, in the end, pragmatic. Do not sociologists and anthropologists also point to the need for self-preservation as the mainspring of human actions? Order, quality of life, and security prevail over everything else; they are fundamental to every human society. In the tiny and densely populated Republic, confessional intolerance, too, was subordinated to these basic values. Paradoxically, the same may be said when we look back on the historical causes of the flaw in Reformed ecclesiology with which this conference is concerned; to wit, the inadequate theological thematization of the concept of church unity. In the historical phase of rivalry within Christianity—the era of confessionalisation—but also later, under the tolerance brought by the Enlightenment and the indifference brought by secularization, all forces, including the religious, were subordinated to a social and political organization that served to guarantee order as a conditio sine qua non for a strong and stable society. This is the reason why striving for church unity across confessional borders was simply not on the early modern agenda—and it is a reason outside theology.

8 Wiebe Bergsma, “De godsdienstige verhoudingen tijdens de Vrede van Munster” (The Religious Relations during the Peace of Munster), in Jacques Dane (ed.), 1648: Vrede van Munster, feit and verbeelding (Zwolle: Waanders, 1998), 83–105, here 85. 9 L.J. Rogier, cited by Wiebe Bergsma, “The Low Countries,” in Bob Scribner, Roy Porter, and Mikuláš Teich (eds.), The Reformation in National Context (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 67–79, here 78.

CHAPTER THREE

PARALLEL COEXISTENCE OF CHURCHES THE CHURCH IN TRANSYLVANIA: ITS UNITY AND DISUNITY. A CONTEXTUALIZED EXAMPLE Juhász Tamás

Before coming to the subject and questions I intend to deal with in my paper, I consider it necessary to mention in advance that before occupying a post as theology professor I had served for fourteen years as a Reformed minister in two Transylvanian villages with a mixed Hungarian and Romanian population. In Lőrincréve, next to Enyed, two-thirds of the population were Hungarian, one-third was Romanian, while in Detrehemtelep, close to Torda/Turda, four-fifths were Hungarian and one-fifth Romanian. In both villages, the congregation belonging to the two different churches got on well together. For all that, it could rather be called parallel coexistence than ‘peaceful cohabitation.’ The two congregations were joined by their work, by being neighbors, and by the few mixed marriages—of 30 years ago— but they were strikingly divided by their culture (language, customs, morals, cookery) and by their religion. Yet, there were two points where this parallelism was broken by their solidarity. When they got into trouble, they joined forces. This was my personal experience when Transylvania and other parts of the country were flooded in 1970 and 1975. In the villages with a mixed Romanian and Hungarian population, this joining with each other could be seen in the common, emotional, but beautiful practice of participating together at every funeral. When either a Hungarian or a Romanian family was in mourning, the entire village participated in the funeral service, regardless of religion; they all followed the coffin in a ceremonial procession to the graveyard and took part together in the simple funeral feast at the bereaved family’s home. They protected each other as well. Two or three years ago, people in Romania recalled the acts committed 60 years before—at the end of the Second World War—in order to take ‘revenge’ for them. Not

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only Romanians, but also Hungarians mourned their relatives who had been senselessly killed (in Szárazajta and Csíkszentdomokos, for example). I was told that in September 1944 a group of volunteers (the so-called Maniu Guardsmen) from a Romanian village were menacing Lőrincréve. One of the Romanian men of status in Lőrincréve, the old farmer Mr. Gherman, went to meet the volunteers of Mihálcfalva and ordered them back by telling them that they had no business there, thus avoiding unrest between them and the Hungarian population. They mutually respect each other’s religion. The Romanians usually celebrate Easter and Whitsuntide a week later than the Hungarians. It often happens that Whitsuntide falls in the period of urgent work in the fields. In Lőrincréve, both the Hungarian and the Romanian church are situated near the road leading to the fields. On the second and third feast days, the Hungarians went to church, while the Romanians went to hoe the ground. But out of consideration for the Hungarians’ religious piety, the Romanians avoided using the usual road—in order not to spoil the festive atmosphere by the sight of their everyday clothing. On the occasion of the Romanian (Orthodox) Whitsuntide, the same was done by the Hungarians, and they used a bypass road. This experience made a deep impression on me, and the reason why I share it with you is so that you can understand the background or the premonitory signs of the criticism or of the open questions I am going to present in my paper. The teaching of the Bible on reconciliation can be summarized by a well-known article of faith recognized by all the churches: through Jesus Christ’s death and resurrection, God reconciled the world to Himself, thus having made believers be reconciled among themselves.1 The assertion expressed by this article of faith always appears in the Bible in concrete cases or in the story and experience of definite characters. One must not generalize or use clichés, as one could otherwise be intentionally vague about a concrete sin or about forgiveness concerning a certain person. We know the commonplace pseudo-wisdom or cliché that says that everybody is sinful—everybody has to be forgiven. Such a statement is not only meaningless, but it confutes the biblical Christian view of reconciliation, and the commandment that emerges from it.

1

2 Cor. 5.

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In the coexistence of Transylvanian churches, there also appear such sins which cannot be concealed by a generalization or a conspiracy of silence: one has to designate them by their name if one wants to walk on the way of forgiveness and reconciliation. I would like to give examples from two fields where there is a serious need for concrete reconciliation or else we stand our ground. One of these is reconciliation to the past, the other one is reconciliation among nations. This is not a general, political question exclusively: it has an aspect concerning the church as well.

Reconciliation with the Past Over the past 10 to 15 years, this problem has been talked and written about a great deal—especially in Central and Eastern Europe. It was a constant subject in former Eastern Germany, in the former Soviet camp, and in Romania as well. Among all these writings, I have not found any that critically analyzed the history of the inter-theological conferences that had taken place in Romania in the period 1964–1988 (a period of 25 years!). These were ecumenical conferences that gathered more than a hundred participants two or three times a year. They were organized by the Greek Oriental (Orthodox) Theological Institute in Bucharest and Sibiu—as well as by the Protestant Theological Institute Cluj/Sibiu—but, in fact, they served as a non-official dialogue between the Orthodox Church of Romania and the three Protestant churches.2 This conference was counted as an internationally recognized model of local ecumenism—worthy to be followed. But nobody ever revealed the fact that these conferences had been organized in the shade of the communist power. In the same way in which the Christian Peace Conference in Prague was held under the control of Moscow, the organizer of our inter-theological conferences was the Under-Secretariat of Religious Affairs in Bucharest. On these occasions, representatives of the local USRA were usually present. The superiors and principals of the churches tried to win the favors of

2

The Greek Orthodox (Eastern) Church may not hold an official, ‘ecumenical dialogue’ with Protestants yet. It would have been even more difficult as the Unitarian church also belongs to the Theological Institute of Cluj—which does not take part in the activity of the World Council of Churches that coordinates the ecumenical movement. The intertheological conferences were almost always assisted by observers of the Roman Catholic Theological Institutes from Alba-Iulia and Iasi, and sometimes by representatives of the Baptist, Adventist, and Pentecostal churches.

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these representatives of the state apparatus, so that the onlooker may have had the impression that the church leaders were also part of the state apparatus. One could notice that the lecturers and speakers had an attitude of fear towards the artificial splendor of church power. It was out of fear that we developed an artificial jargon required by the rules of courtly literature or—as dictatorship did not accept criticism or uncomfortable questions—that we gave up asking. This fear towards power disappeared on December 22, 1989, but the artificial language has lived on. Luckily the series of conferences came to an end in 1988; otherwise, we would have continued using the language that conceals the past or improves upon it. I wonder whether the reason for its omission lies in another hidden fear: our concern for preserving the distorted image we formed of ourselves. The question put in a different way, but having the same meaning is: Are we not afraid of the other church or of the other people’s history? In my opinion, reconciliation with the past has to begin with reading history collectively. Let me use a story as a parable from my favorite reading. In his novel, entitled Three Men on the Bummel, the English writer Jerome K. Jerome describes a journey of a young couple in Germany on a tandem. The husband was sitting in front giving orders to his wife sitting in the back. Having got to the top of the hill before rushing down again, he shouted something. The woman understood: “Jump off !” and without her husband having noticed it, she jumped off the saddle. The foolish husband rode on giving new orders from time to time and he realized only after a few hours that he had been alone. Helped by the German police, his wife was finally found. The quarrel that followed flared up again and again whenever they recalled the story. The husband repeatedly swore that he had said: “Hold tight!” With proverbial diabolical perseverance each of them stuck to his/her variant of the story. It is not an easy task to read history collectively; all the more when it is the history of both the Hungarian and Romanian people. As the pun says, history is his story. Together with two other Romanians, Botond Gudor—minister and historian, and a referent at our IRTI conference—has related an episode of 17th–18th century Transylvanian church history. The diabolical perseverance becomes even more dangerous if matters are made worse by considering them as saintly perseverance.3

3

In Latin: perseverantia sanctorum. This term was used by Calvin’s followers for

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Something similar happens today while the Iron Guard ideology is reviving—using with predilection the terminology of Greek-Oriental theology and mysticism. This ideology compares the ‘sufferings’ of the Romanian people with Jesus’ sufferings in the way a Greek Orthodox priest did 15 years ago in his Christmas editorial:4 We, Romanians are the only people born Christians. Born, not created ones5—just like the Son of God. So we are natural sons of the Father. As natural sons, we are more tempted and tried than others. These temptations are often dreadful and many will fail. It is well known that our ancient enemy beheaded us.6 And our enemies will go on treating us like this till Judgement Day, when all the people under the sun will have to give an account of their deeds in front of the Lord. But it is not the Romanian people that have to give an account, not in the least those who were redeemed by their own sacrifice, but those traitors who lead us on the wrong way will be sentenced to forced labour without end. . . .

The believers’ ear is struck by the anti-biblical blasphemy, while the theologians’ ear is struck by this rough distortion, but everyone is aware of the national pride in religious guise or of the non-ethical view of labor. I have mentioned this not in order to ask how many readers have read these ideas. My question is whether there appeared at least one article of protest in the Orthodox Church or in the theological press against this phenomenon—and if it did, where? In the case of Jerome K. Jerome’s couple riding the tandem, the (historical) quarrel went on ceaselessly, but it did not lead to divorce. We Protestants and Orthodox of Transylvania do not lead a married life, but we live as neighbors. This neighborhood and parallelism has been preserved according to the tradition of Transylvanian pluralism and tolerance that has existed since centuries. Even between neighbors quarrels may appear, but they do not cease to be neighbors. One may have an argument about the place of the fence or of the ridge, about the domestic animals that have strayed onto the neighbors’ patch, or about lost valuables or about lost memories. But this argument or

designating ‘forbearance in persecution and steadfastness in faith.’ It is a funny allusion to the saying ‘errare humanum est, perseverare diabolicum.’ 4 Ioan Sorin Usca: “Restaurarea omului. Convorbire de Craciun cu Párintele Stefan Straja” (Man’s Restauration. Christmas Talk to Father Stefan Straja), Gazeta de Vest (Timisoara/Temesvár, 1991. December 4/68), 1–2. 5 Reference to the Confession of the Universal Synod of Nicaea in which the dogma of Jesus’ divinity apears for the first time. 6 It is a hint at the condemnation and imprisonment of the leaders of the Iron Guard in the 1940s.

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quarrel must not offend the other person’s human dignity; it must not affect his religious and spiritual identity.

Reconciliation among Churches in Transylvania If I now inquire about the violation of frontiers affecting identity, I remind you again of the ‘premonitory sign’ I used in the introduction to my paper. I anticipate this because I am going to quote Dumitru Staniloae—the famous theological scholar. I gladly recall this person, as 40 years ago when I studied in the Orthodox Theological Institute in Bucharest aiming to gain experience, I was his student. I was deeply impressed by his lectures on patristics and dogmatics. That is why I was shocked by an interview given by him in which he speaks of the ‘superiority’ of the Orthodox Church:7 My uncle, who was a priest in a mixed Romanian-Hungarian village, told me the following: Hungarian women used to take their children’s bodice to the Orthodox Church asking for a blessing for their health. But I have never seen Romanian women go to the Hungarian or to the German minister to ask for such a service. Other people have felt the superiority of orthodoxy, but it is no longer felt by the majority of our intellectuals; they ought to feel it still, as we are spiritually superior to other people in Europe8 and Europe needs us indeed, needs the force of our experience of the divine, the force of our offering prayers and the force of our sacramental life.

When we speak about the coexistence of the churches, superiority and inferiority are out of the question (ironically expressed, this case reminds us of the fable we learned as a Latin language exercise: ‘Superior stabat lupus. . . .’). Such words do not only distort reality, but are also contrary to the gospels. Following this line of thinking, a very dangerous step may follow. What happens if we merely assert our superiority without being able to prove it? Do we start looking for proof or even make some up? Or do we start counting which church has more believers or which denomination has more churches and which one has less? Which is bigger or which is smaller? Or for the

7 Camil Marius Dadarlat, “Acasa la Dumitru Staniloae” (At home with D.S.), Universul Cartii (Bucuresti 1992/4), 16. 8 In the original, “noi suntem superiori din punct de vedere spiritual popoarelor din Europa.”

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sake of proving our strength, do we look for support from somebody who is stronger and maybe more powerful than the state? In the years of Eastern European communism with Byzantine semblance, the churches did accept and often even sought the protection of the state—sometimes offering aggressive intervention. This sad fact is valid for our Transylvanian church as well. We could quote a lot of examples of unwarranted interpenetration of ‘the altar and the throne’ both from the Eastern and Western churches. I consider it to be the second most important impediment in the way of reconciliation among nations (the first was the political one) that in the time of the formation of nations and national states the above mentioned interpenetration was self-evident; but in the cases where its dangers had been recognized, no radical end was put to it. This, of course, can neither justify nor explain the abuses of communism. Anyway, the proper clarification of the relationship between church and nation and between church and state in accordance with the gospel will pave the way to reconciliation among nations. Seeking the protection of the state power in the case of the Greek Eastern churches (as in the nationalist states!) is more self-evident than in the case of Western Christianity. Since they defined the divine origin and the requirement of the existence of ‘symphony’ between state and church in the time of Emperor Justinian in the 6th century, they have redefined the ‘sameness’ of the church and state, church and nation; and they have reinforced it and put it into practice. The same happened in the Romanian Orthodox Church. It is a pity that I have to give as an example a regrettable event that happened a few years ago in Transylvania; namely, the investiture in Csíkszereda of the first Romanian Orthodox Bishop. Here I would also like to anticipate that ‘premonitory sign’: I was informed by Reformed ministers and believers that this administrative measure taken by the Greek Eastern church in order to improve its pastoral activity was accepted without any reservation or ill-feeling by them. I myself felt shocked—like others, I think—at having heard the news that in the Transylvanian region called ‘Holy Land,’ with a majority of Roman Catholic population, another church inaugurates a bishopric, in the same way as I was shocked on hearing that in Calvin’s city, Geneva, then recently in Debrecen, the ‘Calvinist Rome’, the Roman Catholic Church inaugurated a bishopric. But with ‘clear heads’ we not only accept, but gladly receive this event. This is the reason why we have to ask a question: Was it really necessary to maintain order on this

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festive occasion of the Orthodox Church with the help of the state armed forces? Against whom? Is it necessary for the Romanian Orthodox Church to be considered superior by the remarkable scholar quoted above and to make use of state power in order to prove its presence and pastoral service? Yet, it had already made use of state power since the very moment the idea was born. Three months before the festivities, the hotel of the former communist party and its real property were transferred by governmental decree to the Orthodox Church to be used as their bishop’s residence. The subject of ‘Reconciliation among Churches in Transylvania’ which I have dealt with may have left a lot of questions open. Yet we should not forget that we are living in a land of tolerance. The 16th century religious tolerance declared in Torda/Turda in 1568 was not the expression of the idea of ‘egalitarianism,’ but the confirmation of a century old pluralism in language, nation, status, and culture. It means the acceptance and handing down of diversity among those who coexist or proceed in parallel. By declaring the importance of religious tolerance, our ancestors did not bring just ideas into being, but facts and realities considered to be divine will. They had a closer view of the biblical teaching on reconciliation than we do. These days we subject the reconciliation of churches and nations to conditions or to systems of conditions. Jesus did differently. He unconditionally forgave sins; he accepted the other as he/she was. By so doing, he did not cover up the sin, but on the contrary, he made the sinner deeply realize that he had to set his/her life right. It is by this that biblical teaching on divine reconciliation emphasizes the promise and possibility of a new start in life. Our churches and the believers belonging to them were never cut off from the possibility and the promise of catharsis. Today the way to these opportunities is still open.

CHAPTER FOUR

“IS CHRIST DIVIDED?” AN ANALYSIS OF THE THEOLOGICAL JUSTIFICATION OF A CHURCH SCHISM J.H. (Amie) van Wyk

Introduction “Is Christ divided?”—that is the critical question of the apostle Paul to the ekklesia of Corinth where schismata developed and groups were formed around Paul, Apollos, Cephas, and also Christ. “Was Paul crucified for you? Were you baptized into the name of Paul?” was the Apostle’s disturbed and exhortative question. As if he wanted to say: how on earth is that possible?! A Christ divided is a dead Christ; a church divided must be a dead church. We should keep in mind that Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians was addressed to a local congregation/church (ekklesia) and that he was pleading for nothing less than ‘perfect unity’ in a local church.1

1

The NT concept ekklesia goes back to the OT kahal Jahveh, the people of God, and indicates the gathered congregation/believers; it is translated by the Romanic word ‘congregation’ (gemeente). The Germanic word ‘church’ (kerk) relates to the Greek kuriakos which means ‘those who belong to the Lord’ (see K.L. Schmidt, ekklesia, in G. Kittel & G. Friedrich (eds.), Theological Dictionary of the New Testament. Abridged in one volume (trans. G.W. Bromiley) (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1985), 394–402; B. Wentsel, Dogmatiek 4b. De Heilige Geest, de Kerk en de Laatste Dingen (Dogmatics 4b. The Holy Spirit, The Church and the Last Things) (Kampen: Kok, 1998), 21–22; H. Küng, De Kerk (The Church) (Hilversum: Paul Brand, 1967), 95f; J.J.F. Durand, Una sancta catholica in sendingperspektief. ’n Analise van die probleme rondom kerklike pluriformiteit en ekumenisiteit in die sending (Una sancta catholica in Missiological Perspective. An Analysis of the Problems of the Pluriformity and Ecumenicity of the Church in Missionary Work) (Amsterdam: Ten Have, 1961), 18–43. Ekklesia always refers to the ‘local church/congregation’ (Matt 18:17, Rom, 1 Cor) or the ‘universal church/congregation’ (Matt 16:18, Eph, Col). A ‘church’ does not consist of ‘congregations’ but of believers (W.J. Snyman, Nuwe en ou dinge. Uit die skat van die koninkryk (New and Old Things. From the Treasures of the Kingdom) (Potchefstroom: Pro Rege, 1977), 24–25, 35–50, 76–87). It is therefore confusing to refer to a church which consists of congregations; it is as meaningless as to say that a congregation consists of churches. K. Barth (Die Kirchliche Dogmatik IV/1 (Zürich: EVZ-Verlag, 1960),

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The modern problem that we face today, where local congregations and churches grouped together to form separate ‘denominations’ in opposition to other ‘denominations,’ was never in the mind of Paul and is an even more untenable situation than division in a local church. Ever since I started to study theology, I have experienced division and disunity in the church of Christ as an immense problem because it so obviously contradicts the clear teaching of the New Testament message. I am convinced that nowhere else in the Reformational tradition is the principle of sola Scriptura ignored and neglected the way it is in the case of the unity of the church.

Can Christ Be Divided? For the purpose of this article, I concentrate on the New Testament teaching on church unity, diversity, and disunity.2 In the whole range of New Testament teaching there is no sign whatsoever of disunity in the sense of division or schism between the different ekklesiai (congregations/churches). The emphasis is on unity: unity in the local congregations and unity between the local congregations. In the early stages, there were many ekklesiai in different countries, each with its own character and problems: in Turkey (Colosse, Derbe, Ephesus, Galatia, Laodicea, Lystra, Pergamum, Philadelphia, Sardis, Smyrna, Thyatira); in the Middle East (Jerusalem, Judaea, Galilee, Samaria, Antioch); in Greece (Corinth, Philippi, Berea, Thessalonica); in Italy (Rome). It can well be imagined that the Jewish Christians in Jerusalem followed a more disciplined liturgy than the charismatic and ecstatic Christians in Corinth. What bound all of them together was

750) correctly remarks that the New Testament ekklesiai does not refer to ‘different churches’ (as we do today), but to the local congregations divided by geography. The only exception might be Acts 9:31, but it should be kept in mind that the ekklesia of Jerusalem was at that time the only ekklesia. In 1 Cor and Rom the ‘body of Christ’ refers to a local congregation, in Eph and Col to the universal church (Küng, De Kerk, 265). 2 For the Old Testament, see N.A. Schuman, “Pluraliteit in het Oude Testament. Vreedzame coëxistentie en conflict”, (“Plurality in the Old Testament. Peaceful Coexistence and Conflict”), in J.M. Vlijm (ed.), Geloofsmanieren. Studies over pluraliteit in de kerk (Modes of Faith. Studies on Plurality in the Church) (Kampen: Kok, 1981), 16–59; H. Berkhof, Gods éne kerk en onze vele kerken (God’s One Church and Our Many Churches) (Nijkerk: Callenbach, nd), 22–27.

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their faith in the one true God, in Jesus as Christ and Lord, through the power of the Holy Spirit. Nowhere is there any sign, any suggestion, or any command that one of these congregations, or any of the Christians in the congregations should group together, then separate from that congregation and start a new ‘denomination,’ denying one another holy baptism and holy communion. Nowhere.3 What is emphasized in the New Testament is the unity in and among the ekklesiai. The teaching of Jesus is very clear on this matter. For a good shepherd there can only be “one shepherd with one flock.”4 Shortly before he was arrested Jesus prayed that all his followers might be one, just as the Father is in him and he in the Father, so that the world might believe that the Father had sent him.5 The credibility of the church is at stake here: a disunited, disrupted, and divided church is an obstacle and obstruction for the world to believe. It makes the church’s message of love, reconciliation, and peace implausible and unreliable. The same message reverberates in the letters. Paul invokes the Christians in Rome to live in harmony with one another6 and he prays that God may give them a spirit of unity. To the Corinthians, Paul makes a strong appeal that they should live in agreement with one another, so that there may be no divisions (schismata) among them and that they may be perfectly united in mind and thought;7 they should be of one mind and live in peace.8 All Christians are one in Christ.9 Christians should make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace for there is “one body and one Spirit—just as you were called to one hope when you were called—one Lord, one

3 The appeal that the people of God should dissociate themselves from Babylon, representing the ungodly world (Rev 18:4; see 2 Cor 6:17), should not be utilized simplistically to substantiate a church schism. 4 John 10:16. 5 John 17:21. See J. du Rand, “Johannes 17. Jesus se gebed om eenheid en solidariteit te midde van krisis en konflik,” (“Jesus’ Prayer for Unity and Solidarity in the Midst of Crisis and Conflict”), in C. Breytenbach (ed.), Eenheid en konflik. Eerste beslissinge in die geskiedenis van die Christendom (Unity and Conflict. First Resolutions in the History of Christendom) (Pretoria: NG Kerkboekhandel, 1986), 105–33; Wentsel, Dogmatiek 4b, 249, 254. 6 Rom. 12:16. 7 1 Cor. 1:10. 8 2 Cor. 13:11. 9 Gal. 3:28.

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faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all.”10 Christians should be like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and purpose.11 The key to church unity is love, which binds together in perfect unity.12 Peter also calls for a life in harmony with one another.13 The New Testament teaching is clear: Christians should live in peace, harmony, and unity in the local ekklesia and, by consequence, as local ekklesiai with other ekklesiai. Berkhof 14 correctly concludes that in this regard we have strayed far from the clarity and the radicalness of the New Testament.15 And yet, the New Testament also reveals a plurality and diversity of practices, faith concepts, and life experiences in the early Christian churches.16 This was to be expected when people with so many different religious and cultural backgrounds—namely, Jews and pagans— became Christians and found a new existence in the church of Christ guided by the Holy Spirit.17 It could be expected that Jewish Christians would put more emphasis on the Old Testament than Christians from a pagan background, who knew nothing of the Old Testament,18 and it was precisely this matter which evoked so much tension in the early churches with regard to circumcision, Sabbath, meals, and solemn promises.19 The split between the ekklesia and Israel introduced a new beginning, although in some places Jews and Christians worshipped together until the fourth century.20 The discussion on the close relationship

10

Eph. 4:3–6. Phil. 2:2, 4:2. 12 Col. 3:14. 13 1 Pet. 3:8. 14 Berkhof, Gods éne kerk, 37. 15 See Küng, De Kerk, 295 and E. Schlink, Ökumenische Dogmatik. Grundzüge (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1985), 680. 16 J.M. Vlijm, “Pluraliteit in het Nieuwe Testament,” in: Vlijm (ed.), Geloofsmanieren, 60–90; he mainly refers to Matthew and Mark and has very little on John and Paul, which makes his investigation to a certain extent one-sided. Some of his remarks are open to criticism (cf. his discussion of the relationship between Paul and James, 1981: 79–80). 17 There was also another distinction; namely, between ordinary Jewish and Hellenistic Jewish Christians. See J.G.D. Dunn, Unity and diversity in the New Testament. An inquiry into the character of earliest Christianity (London: SCM Press, 1977), 34. 18 Vlijm, “Pluraliteit,” 71. 19 Vlijm, “Pluraliteit,” 64–70. 20 See P. de Villiers, “Die Apostelkonvent (Handelinge 15),” (“The Apostolic Council”), in C. Breytenbach (ed.), Eenheid en konflik, 25. 11

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between the church and Israel would, however, never disappear from the church’s agenda (see Rom. 9–11) and would return in full force during the twentieth century.21 Some are of the opinion that without Israel there can be no true ecumenical perspective.22 Barth23 judges that the existence of the synagogue alongside the church is something like an ontological impossibility—a wound, a split in the body of Christ. The question which arises now is whether there are no signs of disunity in the New Testament. Did the ekklesia not have to be watchful for misconceptions, false doctrines, and erroneous teachers? Did the ekklesia not have to test the spirits to see whether they were from God because many false prophets had gone out into the world?24 Was there not always the danger of false prophets who preached a ‘different Jesus’ and a ‘different gospel’?25 The New Testament is full of warnings against wrong doctrine and wrong practice. There was the danger that savage wolves might enter the flock and distort the truth;26 also, the danger of cunning and crafty men in their deceitful scheming,27 of the deceptive (this worldly) philosophy,28 of the appearance of the man of lawlessness,29 of deceiving spirits30 and dubious teachers,31 of strange teachings,32 of false prophets

21 See Küng, De Kerk, 125–73; H. Berkhof, Christelijk Geloof. Een inleiding tot de geloofsleer (Christian Faith. An Introduction to the Doctrine of Faith) (Nijkerk: Callenbach, 1990), 260–64; E.J. Beker & J.M. Hasselaar, Wegen en kruispunten in de dogmatiek. Deel 5. Kerk en toekomst (Roads and Crossroads in Dogmatics. Vol. 5. The Church and the Future) (Kampen: Kok, 1990), 109, 229 (with reference to Barth) and in extenso A. van de Beek, De kring om de Messias. Israel als volk van de lijdende Heer (The Circle around the Messiah. Israel as the People of the Suffering Lord) (Zoetermeer: Meinema, 2002). 22 W. Balke, “De eigenschappen van de kerk,” (“The Attributes of the Church”), in W. van ’t Spijker et al. (eds.), De Kerk. Wezen, weg en werk van de kerk naar reformatorische opvatting (The Essence, Way and Task of the Church according to the Reformational View) (Kampen: De Groot Goudriaan, 1990), 264. 23 Barth, Kirchliche Dogmatik IV/1, 749. 24 1 John 4:1. 25 2 Cor. 11:4; Gal. 1:6. 26 Acts 20:29–30. 27 Eph. 4:14. 28 Col. 2:8. 29 2 Thess. 2:3. 30 1 Tim. 4:1–5. 31 2 Tim. 4:3–4. 32 Heb. 13:9.

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and false teachers,33 of the spirit of falsehood34 and of godless men35—to mention only these. And what made them so dangerous was that they sometimes slipped into the church of Christ secretly and silently.36 It is clear that the young ekklesiai were faced with many different problems and dangers, varying from false doctrine (like Judaism in Galatians, and Gnosticism),37 to unchristian practices.38 Yes, there were so many deficiencies that one could hardly refer to them any longer as ekklesiai of God. Time and again, the ekklesia was warned against being mislead, misguided, and deceived by strange teachings.39 As a matter of fact, Christ Himself warned against the yeast of the Pharisees (‘traditionalists’) and the Sadducees (‘liberalists’).40 Most of the time, the concept of haeresis has a negative connotation in the New Testament, for instance in Gal. 5:20 (wrong ethos), Tit. 3:10 (wrong ethos) and 2 Pet. 2:1 (wrong doctrine). But in 1 Cor. 11:19, Paul, having rejected ‘divisions’ (schismata) in the congregation (v 18), argued that there had to be ‘differences’ (groups, sections) (haeresis) in the congregation (v 19), to show which of the believers had God’s approval when they partook of the Lord’s Supper, i.e. whether they accepted in love a poor church member as a brother and sister. But there is no sign here of any division or schism. What, then, did the ekklesia have to do when false doctrine or unchristian behavior became manifest? One possibility was to dissociate themselves from the sinful brother or sister.41 But this had to take place after having first admonished the sinner.42 Excommunication was the very last resort,43 but even then it always remained a fallible human judgement and not a final divine condemnation.44

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2 Pet. 2:1–3. 1 Joh. 4:6. 35 Jud. 4. 36 Jud. 4; see Acts 20:29. 37 Col., 1 John. 38 1 Cor. 5 & 6. 39 Col. 2:16–23, 2 Thess. 2:3, Heb. 13:9, 2 John 7–8. 40 Matt. 16:6, see ch. 23. 41 1 Cor. 5:11; 2 Tim. 3:5; 2 Joh. 10–11. 42 Matt. 18:15–17; Tit. 3:10. 43 Matt. 18:17; 1 Cor. 5:7. 44 See Heidelberg Catechism 31:85 and Church Order GKSA artt 71–80. Sometimes a distinction is made between ‘justicial discipline’ (against a person) and ‘judicial discipline’ (against a doctrine), see B. Spoelstra, Gereformeerde Kerkreg en kerkregering. 34

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There is no mention whatsoever of the proposal that individual Christians, or a group of Christians, had to withdraw from the local ekklesia, even when there was a lack of love,45 or only ‘a few people’ who had not soiled their clothes.46 There is also no indication that a group of ekklesiai had to withdraw from other ekklesiai to form a new ‘denomination’ over against other congregations or ‘denominations.’ There is no indication in the New Testament that true believers, or a group of true believers, had to depart from the (false) ekklesia to start another (true) ekklesia; on the contrary, the ekklesia was empowered by Christ to discipline the false prophets and evildoers, even up to the point of excommunication. In many cases it was the false prophets themselves who deserted the ekklesia.47 There is no command of withdrawal from the ekklesia, only to take action from within the ekklesia. The ekklesia of God is the pillar and foundation of the truth.48 The Spirit of truth will guide the church into all truth,49 and Christ will be with his church always, to the very end of the age.50 If a difference of opinion arises in an ekklesia—for instance, on how to interpret the Old Testament on a matter such as circumcision—then a clear line of action is indicated: meet with one another, communicate, and decide together under the guidance of the Spirit,51 so that, together with all the saints, the believers may grasp how wide and long and high and deep the love of Christ is,52 speaking the truth in love.53

’n Handboek by die Kerkorde (Reformed Church Law and Church Government. A Handbook to the Church Order) (Hammanskraal: HTS, 1989), 443–44. 45 Ephesus, Rev. 2:4. 46 Sardis, Rev. 3:4. 47 1 Joh. 2:19; This conclusion of mine contradicts that of E. Käsemann, Essays on New Testament Themes (London: SCM Press, 1964) (trans. W.J. Montagne), 100, 103, to be dealt with later on. 48 1 Tim. 3:15. 49 John 16:13. 50 Matt. 28:20; Protestants readily accept the indefectibilitas (non-destructiveness) and infallibilitas (non-erroneousness) of the church, which implies that Christ guarantees that there will always be a church on earth, although a certain church may ‘disappear’ in a certain country (see H. Bavinck, Gereformeerde Dogmatiek 4 (Reformed Dogmatics 4) (Kampen: Kok, 1930), 308–09). For a Catholic view, see L. Ott, Grundriss der katholischen Dogmatik (Basel: Herder, 1981), 357–62. 51 Acts 15; De Villiers, “Die Apostelkonvent (Handelinge 15),” 23–47. 52 Eph. 3:18. 53 Eph. 4:15.

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A ‘Yes’ to Division54 It is intriguing that many theologians, who put a very high premium on the unity of the church agree that a point of departure and separation may sometimes be unavoidable. Bavinck argues: “If a church grants more authority to its offices and decrees than to the Word, thus clearly reveals itself as a false church, then believers have the unfailing duty to separate and to start (anew) according to the Word of God”55—although it is dangerous to elevate ‘schism’ to an article of faith.56 The next question then is: when does a schism become imperative? Should it be organized by believers or are they—so to say—unexpectedly surprised and overtaken, yes, overwhelmed by it?

Reasons for Division The following options may be considered: In case of excommunication. Is there any other option for a believer who still confesses Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior and who, for whatever reason, is excommunicated by the church, to start a new ‘denomination’ with other believers who have had the same experience? There are different contexts here. While Luther’s life was in danger after his being excommunicated by the Catholic Church (1521),

54 The following (incomplete) data from 1998 illustrate the present situation of church division (Wentsel 1998: 311): Nestorians, 25 million; Coptic, 8 million; Eastern Orthodox, 224 million; Roman Catholic, 1000 million; Lutheran, 65 million; Reformed, 50 million; Anglican, 60 million; Baptist, 35 million, Methodist, 50 million; Pentecostal, 461 million. The REC News Exchange reported in February 2000 that “there are 33,800 denominations around the world, and people form a new one nearly every day” (37/2: 3). 55 Bavinck, Gereformeerde Dogmatiek 4, 360. 56 H. Bavinck, De Katholiciteit van Christendom en Kerk (The Catholicity of Christendom and Church) (Kampen: Kok, 1968), 35. Berkhof, too, argues that “there may be a lawful and imperative dissension,” sometimes a division “is necessary” (Christelijk Geloof, 397). See also W. Pannenberg, Systematic Theology Vol. 3 (trans. W. Bromiley) (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993), 411, 414: When a heresy takes the form of a “concealed apostacy,” excommunication and division become “unavoidable”; Schlink, Ökumenische Dogmatik, 680, 700: “There are divisions (Trennungen) that are inevitable”; Wentsel, Dogmatiek 4b, 273: Separation, as an act of protest, is sometimes imperative, but it must be weighed against protest from within the church.

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this was not the case with the Dutch theologian Schilder, who was (wrongly) suspended from his office as a professor, but not excommunicated from the GKN (1944).57 What would have happened if Schilder had stayed on in the GKN as a church member, protesting against his suspension?58 It is the irony of history that the ‘denomination’ started by Schilder (and others) in 1944, experienced another schism in 1967, and a small split in 2003.59 In case of a false church. The Belgic Confession (1561) argues that “no man has the right to separate himself” (from the true church of Jesus Christ) and that “all those who separate themselves from it (the true church) or do not join themselves to it, act contrary to the ordination of God” (artt 28, 29). And yet the same art 28 also refers to “the duty of all believers, according to the Word of God, to separate themselves from all those who do not belong to the church. . . .” Does this imply a duty to separate from the false church? The problem that arises here is that there is no false church in the absolute sense of the word.60 In an explanation of articles 28 and 29 of the Belgica, the historical and theological context of the sixteenth century should be considered carefully where the Reformers referred to the Roman Catholic Church (papacy) as ‘false church’ and to the Protestant churches as ‘true.’61 Thus, art 29 cannot be interpreted as

57 See G.C. Berkouwer, Zoeken en vinden. Herinneringen en ervaringen (Seeking and Finding. Recollections and Experiences) (Kampen: Kok, 1989), 312–66. 58 See J. Veenhof, Vrij Gereformeerd (Verzamelde artikelen) (Free Reformed. Collected Articles) (Kampen: Kok, 2005), 144. 59 Did it happen because Schilder’s ecclesiology has a schismatic tendency? See A.L.A. Buys, Die moeder van ons almal. Die ekklesiologie van Klaas Schilder (The Mother of us All. The Ecclesiology of Klaas Schilder) (Bloemfontein: UV, unpublished DTh thesis, 2003). 60 Bavinck, see R.H. Bremmer, Herman Bavinck als dogmatikus (Herman Bavinck as Dogmatician) (Kampen: Kok, 1961), 282, 363. J.A. Heyns, Inleiding tot die dogmatiek—aan die hand van die Nederlandse Geloofsbelydenis (Introduction to Dogmatics— according to the Belgic Confession) (Pretoria: NG Kerkboekhandel, 1992), 347, argues that the concept ‘false church’ is a contradiction in terms. Wentsel (Dogmatiek 4b, 272) views this distinction as inadequate and too massive to accommodate the present problems. 61 Although Calvin argued that every gathering and the whole body of the papacy lacked the true form of a church (Institusie van die Christelike Godsdiens 1559 (Institutes of the Christian Religion 1559) (trans. H.W. Simpson) (Potchefstroom: CJBF), 4.2.12), he could not deny that there were still ‘churches’ under the papacy (4.2.12). See in this regard the classic study of W. Nijenhuis, Calvinus Oecumenicus: Calvijn over de eenheid der kerk in het licht van zijn briefwisseling (Calvinus Oecumenicus. Calvin and

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though only Reformed churches are true churches and the Anglican and Lutheran churches are false or sectarian;62 Calvin viewed both as true churches.63 It is, therefore, very difficult to state categorically: this is a false church. Some are of the opinion that today we can no longer consider the Catholic Church as a false church64—maybe a ‘less true’ church.65 The situation is even more complex, for the marks of the ‘true church’ are not “permanent possessions”: they can “be lost and regained.”66 Each church has to struggle against the false church in its own bosom.67 It is possible that a true church68 can become unfaithful and change into a false church via a process of degeneration; and a church that was considered false, can, through the grace of God, come to repentance and reformation.69 The question is: what are the consequences of these views? If they are true, then all true ‘denominations’ continue to live in sin because, although united in Christ, they do not live united with one another. To escape the force of this conclusion, a new ingenious solution has been developed: among the true churches (i.e.,‘denominations’) we should distinguish between ‘less pure’ and ‘more pure.’ It is better, and advisable, to belong to the more pure than to the less pure ‘denomination.’70

the Unity of the Church in the Light of his Correspondence) (’s-Gravenhage: Martinus Nijhoff, 1959). 62 See A.D.R. Polman, Onze Nederlandsche Geloofsbelijdenis. Verklaard uit het verleden, geconfronteerd met het heden. Deel 3 (Our Belgic Confession. Explained from the Past, Confronted by the Present) (Franeker: Wever, nd), 362. 63 Polman, Onze Nederlandsche Geloofsbelijdenis, 234. 64 P.A. Verhoef, Op vaste fondamente. Kerk en dwaalleer—les van die geskiedenis (On Firm Foundations. Church and Heresy—a Lesson from History) (Stellenbosch: Stellenoord, 2005), 13. 65 Heyns, Inleiding, 348–49. 66 G.J. Spykman, Reformational Theology: A New Paradigm for Doing Dogmatics (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1992), 462. 67 Polman, Onze Nederlandsche Geloofsbelijdenis, 378, 380. 68 The concept ‘church’ is possibly used here in the sense of ‘denomination.’ 69 J. van Genderen & W.H. Velema, Beknopte Gereformeerde Dogmatiek (Concise Reformed Dogmatics) (Kampen: Kok, 1992), 661. 70 See Bavinck, Gereformeerde Dogmatiek 4, 357; H. Bavinck, Our Reasonable Faith. A Survey of Christian Doctrine (trans. H. Zylstra) (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1978), 526. See also A.G. Honig, Handboek van de Gereformeerde Dogmatiek (Handbook of Reformed Dogmatics) (Kampen: Kok, 1938), 726–31; J.A. Heyns, Dogmatiek (Pretoria: NG Kerkboekhandel, 1978), 376.

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However, this distinction not only contradicts the (Belgic) Confession,71 but also the clear teaching of the New Testament. It is light years removed from the biblical ecclesiology where the unity of the ekklesia is an undisputed indicative and imperative. Added to this is the fact that the logic of this distinction is suspicious: why not carry on with the distinction ad infinitum and distinguish in the ‘more pure’ church between a ‘more more pure’ and a ‘less more pure’ church etc.? All this could easily justify a never ending process of church schisms. But this is an argumentum ad absurdum. The distinction (more/less pure) can be described as a rationalistic escape to justify the disunity of the church, in contrast with New Testament teaching. In case of a last resort. What about a schism as a last resort, an ultima ratio, when all efforts have failed to convince the ‘denomination’ and synods and councils of false doctrine and practice, yes, of heresy? Here we touch on a very difficult question because it presupposes the defectibilitas and fallibilitas of the church of Christ. Did not Christ promise to be with his church always to the very end,72 and that the Holy Spirit would guide them into all the truth73—as we have indicated earlier? But we have also seen that the ekklesia has to be on the alert for false prophets and false doctrine and heresies. Noordmans is of the opinion that “without love there is no catholic church; without truth there is no church at all. Heresy is the biggest sin in the Christian congregation; it makes the gospel impotent.”74 Bavinck reproduces the classic Protestant and Reformed view in this regard: only when the summa necessariae doctrinae and the praecipua religionis doctrina are exchanged for falsehood, separation/secession

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Polman, Onze Nederlandsche Geloofsbelijdenis, 231. Matt. 28:20. 73 Joh. 16:13. 74 O. Noordmans, Verzamelde Werken. Deel VI. De kerk en het leven (Collected Works. Vol. VI. The Church and Life) (Kampen: Kok, 1986), 370. See Küng, De Kerk, 278–300; Pannenberg, Systematic Theology Vol. 3, 412. Bavinck (Gereformeerde Dogmatiek 4, 304) warns that we should use the concepts ‘schism’ and ‘heresy’ with caution, and Wentsel (Dogmatiek 4b, 382) that we should practice patience with heretics. F. Schleiermacher (The Christian Faith, H.R. Mackintosch & J.S. Stewart (eds.), Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1976, 684–685) views heretics in the narrower sense as ‘part of the Church.’ 72

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becomes an obligation (with reference to Calvin).75 Heresy, whether it appears in a Judaistic, Gnostic, or ideological cloak always strikes at the heart of the gospel and enslaves people.76 There is always the danger that a church may conform to orthodoxy but capitulate to an ideology.77 In South Africa, the theological justification of apartheid was correctly declared a heresy78—and I see no reason why the same should not be done with the theological justification of a violent revolution. Only when there are clear indications that the essence of the gospel, i.e., the fundamental articles of the Christian faith is undermined and denied, does a separation of ways appear on the horizon. And only after all efforts and objections and appeals have failed.79 The urgent question now arises whether there are indicators in the New Testament that a heresy could expand to such proportions that it not only undermines, but actually jeopardizes the existence and continuity of the church of Christ. It would attest to an utmost naivety to ignore the danger of heresy in the church of Christ. On the other hand it would attest to total disbelief to ignore the fact that Jesus Christ, through the Holy Spirit, disempowered all evil powers and triumphed over them at the cross.80

Justification of Divisions Now that church ‘denominations’ are faced with the fact of disunity, which contradicts the New Testament view, the only way out is to start to rationalize and justify the prevailing disunity. “The only way,” I said, but this is incorrect because the twentieth century was typified as the ‘age of ecumenicity,’ for many ecumenical movements were developed during that century, such as the Reformed Ecumenical Synod (now 75

Bavinck, Gereformeerde Dogmatiek 4, 299. K. Runia, “Wat is ketterij?” (“What is Heresy?”), in C.J. Wethmar & C.J.A. Vos (eds.), ’n Woord op sy tyd. ’n Teologiese feesbundel aangebied aan professor Johan Heyns ter herdenking van sy sestigste verjaardag (A Theological Festschrift Presented to Professor Johan Heyns in Commemoration of his Sixtieth Birthday) (Pretoria: NG Kerkboekhandel, 1988), 109. 77 G.C. Berkouwer, De kerk II. Apostoliciteit en heiligheid (The Church II. Apostolicity and Holiness) (Kampen: Kok, 1972), 212–13. 78 See Runia, “Wat is ketterij?,” 97–111. 79 See Bremmer, Herman Bavinck, 283. 80 Col. 2:15. 76

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Council) (1946), the World Council of Churches (1948)—the World Alliance of Reformed Churches started in 1875. For long periods, however, and in some instances even today, rationalization and justification of the disunity were the order of the day. I now turn to a discussion of the most important rationalizations.81 There is division because of God’s eternal decree. This argument can hardly be taken seriously. It could easily lead to the absurd implication that God created sin. God’s eternal decree is a resting place for a wrestling faith, not an excuse for disobedience—as Berkhof 82 correctly remarks. There is division because of God’s providence. Although Bavinck83 sharply criticizes the disunity among churches, he immediately weakens his approach with reference to the providence of God.84 But this is unacceptable, for the providence of God does not function as an escape to sanction sin, but as a comfort in times of trouble, and as an inspiration for responsible action. What ‘happens’ in the world (and church) should not be identified with the (revealed) will of God. God wants his church(es) to live in unity and harmony. There is division because of sin. It is widely accepted that the disunity among churches can be attributed to sin and the results of sin.85 But sin is not a reality to accept, to play with, and to keep intact, but a reality which should be opposed and defeated because Christ already triumphed over sin and empowered his church(es) with the power of the Holy Spirit.

81 See in this regard: Berkhof, Gods éne kerk, 42–50; Küng, De Kerk, 323–26; J. Veenhof, Volk van God: Enkele aspecten van Bavincks kerkbeschouwing (People of God. Some Aspects of Bavinck’s Ecclesiolgy) (Amsterdam: Buijten & Schipperheijn, 1969), 119–26; J.H. van Wyk, “Geroep tot eenheid,” (“Called to Unity”), in P. Kruger & H. du Toit, Geroep tot eenheid. Gesprekke ter wille van die heling van die breuk tussen die GKSA en NGK (Called to Unity. Discussions towards Healing the Schism between the GKSA and the NGK) (Pretoria: NG Kerkboekhandel,1990) 11–14; A.E. McGrath, Christian Theology. An Introduction (Oxford: Blackwell, 1995), 419–20; Wentsel, Dogmatiek 4b, 250f; B. Wentsel, Hij-is-er-bij. Handboek Bijbelse Geloofsleer I (He is with Us. Handbook of Biblical Doctrine of Faith) (Kampen: Kok, 2006), 163–77. 82 Berkhof, Gods éne kerk, 39. 83 Bavinck, Gereformeerde Dogmatiek 4, 300–01. 84 Bavinck, Gereformeerde Dogmatiek 4, 301. 85 “Disunity amongst churches is a sinful phenomenon” (Acta GKSA, Potchefstroom, 1964, 197). Bavinck (Gereformeerde Dogmatiek 4, 300–01) refers to church division as “a sin against God (and) in contrast with the prayer of Christ”; Barth (Kirchliche Dogmatik 4, 754) describes it as a “shame” and a “scandal”; see also Küng, De Kerk, 326–27; Schlink, Ökumenische Dogmatik, 683.

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There is division because God willed diversity. It is true that God’s creation is characterized by a rich variety and plurality; and it is true that in one ekklesia, and also between different ekklesiai, there are diversity, variation, plurality, and pluriformity, but it is not true that God willed division, disunity, and schism in and between his ekklesiai. This cannot be substantiated from the New Testament teaching on the church.86 To conclude from the fact of diversity in the New Testament the so-called truth of division, implies a change of meaning of concepts—which is untenable. This exchange of concept meanings is clearly illustrated by Nürnberger, who on the one hand87 argues that the disunity of the church is caused by sin, but on the other88 that there is “absolutely nothing wrong” with the diversity (sic) amongst Baptists, Anglicans, etc. Even Bavinck89 could say that division is not only to be discredited: the wealth, the many-sidedness, the plurality of the Christian faith are revealed in it. It is also clear from the critical account of the New Testament church view by Käsemann90 that he far too easily concludes, from the diversity and variety in the ekklesiai, the acceptability of the disunity and division we experience today. Van Aarde91 links up with Käsemann in this regard—also confusing the concepts ‘diversity’ and ‘division’; he also invents a new concept ‘denomination’92 (referring to ekklesiai grouped together in opposition to other groups of ekklesiai), which

86 See G.C. Berkouwer, De Kerk I. Eenheid en katholiciteit (The Church I. Unity and Catholicity) (Kampen: Kok, 1970), 61–93, against Kuyper; Wentsel, Dogmatiek 4b, 278–88. 87 K. Nürnberger, Sistematiese Teologie (Systematic Theology) (Genadendal: Teologiese Seminarie van die EBSA, 1975), 414. 88 Nürnberger, Sistematiese Teologie, 429. 89 Bavinck, Katholiciteit, 39. 90 See Käsemann, Essays, 95–107, as well as his New Testament questions of today (trans. W.J. Montagne) (London: SCM Press, 1969), 252–59. 91 See A.G. van Aarde, “Gedagtes oor die begin van die kerk—’n geskiedenis van versoenende verskeidenheid,”(“Reflections on the Origin of the Church—a History of Conciliatory Pluriformity”) Hervormde Teologiese Studies (Reformed Theological Studies) 43/3 (1987): 325–51) as well as his “’n Nuwe-Testamentiese begronding van die eenheid van die kerk en die eis om kerkeenheid vandag,” (“A New Testament Foundation of the Unity of the Church and the Demand for Church Unity Today”) (Hervormde Teologiese Studies 45/2 (1989), 461–75. 92 Van Aarde, “’n Nuwe-Testamentiese begronding,” 467. I use the concept ‘denomination’ in this article only for the sake of clarity, defined as above, and with inverted commas. I emphasize that the concept finds no substantiation in the New Testament.

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appears nowhere, even implicitly, in the New Testament teaching on the church.93 The so-called ‘branch-theory’—the theory that the ‘one church’ differentiated in the course of history like the trunk of a tree with many branches into ‘many churches’—is subject to the same criticism. It tries to rationalize the irrational. There is division because true unity is spiritual and invisible. Another form of rationalization is found in the argument that we should look for the unity of the church far more to the invisible spiritual bond of faith than to the external form of the church.94 Of course, it is true that church believers are spiritually united with Christ through the Holy Spirit, a bond which is invisible, but this unification is manifested and reveals itself in worship service and Christian activities.95 The church has to be the light for the world in order to bring people closer to God.96 There is division: no problem, for ‘my church’ is the only true church. With this stance, ‘my denomination’ is absolutized to be the only true church—a viewpoint, as we have seen already, that is untenable.97 In the New Testament, there is no reference to ‘my’ church, for it is always the church of Jesus Christ, to which I may belong, which I must serve, and which functions as an instrument in the coming of the kingdom of God. There is division: don’t worry, in the eschatological future, all Christians will be one in Christ. This option can be described as eschatological escapism. It is true that in the eschaton all Christians will be united in Christ, but this is not what Christ prayed for. He prayed for the present unity, in the midst of a world of disunity, division, hate, distrust, and implacability, so that the world may believe that the Father has sent the Son—who takes away the sin of the world and who brings unity to humanity.

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Van Aarde, “ ’n Nuwe-Testamentiese begronding,” 467. Honig, Handboek, 728. See also Bavinck, Gereformeerde Dogmatiek 4, 304–05; B. Spoelstra, “Het ons kerk-wees in strukture gestol?,” (“Has our Being-a-Church Solidified into Structures?”) In die Skriflig (In the Light of Scripture), 20/80 (1986), 4–17. 95 See Acta GKSA, 1958, 70–80: “The unity of the external church is a divine demand and command.” It is intriguing that elder T. den Boer asked for explicit reference to his minority vote in the minutes. 96 Matt. 5:14–16. 97 See Berkhof, Gods éne kerk, 43–46. 94

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There can be only one conclusion to all these rationalizations: “All attempts to justify disunity are contraband.”98 Every Christian should pursue the unity of the church and should reject all rationalizations which try to justify disunity.99 What Christ prayed for, and what the New Testament teaches, is church unity, which may include diversity, but never disunity or division. It can be described as a unity-in-diversity, which excludes uniformity. It is a unity-in-faith, a unity-in-hope, a unity-in-love, a unity-in-truth, a unity-in-mission, a unity-in-liturgy, a unity-in-worship, a unity-in-church-government, and a unity-inChristian-life.100

Conclusion It is a long road on which we have traveled with the troubled church of Christ, troubled by division, disunity, disruption, dissension, separation, fragmentation, and schism. It is a very shameful route. It is a route where in the beginning, no disunity whatsoever was tolerable (Augustine), to a situation of disunity in extraordinary circumstances (Calvin), to disunity as an accepted principle (Post-Reformation), to recurring schism as an almost unavoidable necessity (modern times). The last view represents a sectarian ecclesiology, totally foreign to and in contradiction with what the Bible teaches. In this regard, Reformed theology—in general—has distanced itself a long way from its slogan of sola Scriptura. Nowhere else in Reformed theology than in ecclesiology, do we experience more the impact of the Aufklärung, with its emphasis on rationalism and individualism. The sola Scriptura must be complemented by the solo Christo and the solo Spiritu because without the illumination of the Holy Spirit, the Word of God stays covered by a veil.101 It is the Spirit who opens our

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Spykman, Reformational Theology, 443. See J. Roberts, “Die eenheid van die kerk volgens die Efese-brief,” (“The Unity of the Church according to the Letter to the Ephesians”), in Breytenbach (ed.), Eenheid en konflik, 85. 100 The original article included here a sub-section dealing with En route to an undivided church: (1) confession of sin, (2) communicate with others, (3) collaborate with others, (4) assemble with others, (5) learn from other attempts, (6) unite for the sake of the kingdom, (7) prepare a new confession, (8) (re-)turn to Christ, and (9) turn to prayer. 101 See 2 Cor. 2:12–18. 99

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hearts to discover Christ as the center of God’s revelation102 and to be transformed into His likeness.103 The way to unity is a difficult and dangerous way. How on earth would it be possible to avoid the dangers of syncretism and relativism, sectarianism and absolutism, pragmatism and pluralism (as isms) in the process of becoming visibly one in Christ? But en route we have three indestructible promises. First, we have the promise of the Father that He who began a good work in us will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.104 Second, we have the promise (and prayer!) of the Son, who triumphed over sin and death and demons, that He will be with us always, to the very end of the age.105 Third, we have the promise that the Holy Spirit will guide his church into all truth.106 “For (in the end) we cannot do anything against the truth, but only for the truth.”107 In the end the truth will triumph. Veritas vincet! The realization of the unity of the church of Christ is in the last instance a question about our trust in God. Do we really trust God that one day He will bring to completion what He has promised, and that the prayer of Christ will be fulfilled—and that the world will believe?

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Heb. 1:1–2. See S. Greijdanus, Schriftbeginselen ter Schriftverklaring en historisch overzicht over theorieën en wijzen van Schriftuitlegging (Scriptural Principles for the Explanation of Scripture and a Historical Survey of Theories and Modes of Scripture Interpretation) (Kampen: Kok, 1946), 40–41, where he argues that it is “not enough” to refer to the gift of “Scripture alone” even when we say that Scripture is indispensable and glorious to know God; we (also) need the renewal of regeneration through the Holy Spirit to understand Holy Scripture. 104 Phil. 1:6. 105 Matt. 28:20; See Berkouwer, De kerk I, 110: The congregation is called away from schism and quarrel, because of the unity of the body of Christ. “Here nothing is to be tolerated and acceptable,” because it is true (that) in Christ and in the congregation the darkness is passing and the true light is already shining (1 John 2:8). 106 John 16:13. 107 2 Cor. 13:8. 103

CHAPTER FIVE

CALVINUS OECUMENICUS CALVIN’S VISION OF THE UNITY AND CATHOLICITY OF THE CHURCH I. John Hesselink

My title is taken from the monumental study of this theme by the Dutch historian Willem Nijenhuis, viz., Calvinus Oecumenicus1 which could be translated either “The Ecumenical Calvin” or “Calvin, the Ecumenist.” The Swiss historian, Gottfried Locher, has written a monograph about Calvin’s ecumenical concerns and efforts with a similar title: Calvin Anwalt der Ökumene (Calvin, agent/advocate of ecumenicity).2 Earlier the doyen of American Calvin scholars, John T. McNeill, held up Calvin as the model of irenic catholicity, the Reformer who worked harder than anyone else to achieve some type of unity among the scattered and divided churches.3 For those who are knowledgeable about Calvin, such claims will come as no surprise. But to those unfamiliar with the aims and activities of the Genevan Reformer, this portrayal of Calvin as the great advocate of unity and ecumenicity may come as a shock. For this runs completely counter to the Calvin of myth and caricature, the Calvin who is considered the dictator of Geneva—the one who enforced petty discipline and whose intolerance resulted in the execution of Servetus. Are we talking about the same Calvin?

1 As the subtitle indicates, this study is based primarily on Calvin’s correspondence: Calvijn en de eenheid der kerk in het licht van zijn briefwisseling (’s-Gravenhage: Martinus Nijhoff, 1959). Cf. his essay, “Der ökumenische Calvin: Calvin, Luther, und das Luthertum,” Nederlands Theologisch Tijdschrift 34/3 (1980), 191ff. 2 Heft 60 of Theologische Studien (1960), ed. Karl Barth and Max Geiger. Cf. the chapter by the leading English Calvin scholar, T.H.L. Parker: “Calvin the Ecumenical Churchman,” in Portrait of Calvin (London: SCM Press, 1954), 106ff. 3 In his comprehensive study, which has not been superseded, Unitive Protestantism. A Study in Our Religious Resources (New York: Abingdon, 1930), 68ff., 78ff.

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It should be noted at the outset that Calvin’s quest was not for unity at any price. He could be genial and tolerant when dealing with people of different views as well as fierce and adamant with those who attacked him on key issues. Although he could never be accused of a soft and sentimental ecumenism which was willing to compromise on fundamental issues, his list of non-negotiable doctrines is surprisingly small.

The High Churchman Before examining Calvin’s specific ecumenical outlook and activity, it is important to note briefly his view of the church. For although unity must begin with individuals and local groups, the goal must be the cooperation or unity of larger, ecclesiastical bodies. It might appear to be a corollary that the lower one’s view of the church, the more open one will be to cooperative efforts, if not church union. Those who are committed to little feel they have little to lose in a union. People who are indifferent about doctrine can afford to be tolerant, for there is little at stake in a compromise. There are striking exceptions, however, and Calvin is one of them. His commitment to the unity of the church was not despite his high view of the church, but precisely because of it! None of Calvin’s contemporaries, including Archbishop Cranmer of the Church of England, had a higher view of the church. The opening section of Book IV of the Institutes, for example, has these striking lines: I shall start, then, with the church, into whose bosom God is pleased to gather his sons, not only that they may be nourished by her help and ministry as long as they are infants and children, but also that they may be guided by her motherly care until they mature and at last reach the goal of faith. “For what God has joined together, it is not lawful to put asunder” [Mark 10:9p.], so that, for those to whom he is Father the church may also be Mother.4

4 Institutes IV.1.1, 1012. I am using the Library of Christian Classics (LCC) edition, ed. John T. McNeill and trans. Ford Lewis Battles (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1960). Later, in graphic language, Calvin amplifies “how useful, how necessary it is, that we should know her [the church, our mother]. For there is no other way to enter into life unless this mother conceive us in her womb, give us birth, nourish us at her breast, and lastly, unless she keep us under her care and guidance until, putting off mortal

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The last phrase is virtually a quotation from Cyprian, bishop of Carthage in the third century, and the churchman of his time. His aversion to Rome notwithstanding, Calvin has no compunction about repeating this classic phrase which speaks of the church in the loftiest possible terms.5 Accordingly, R.N. Carew Hunt states boldly: “For all his abhorrence of Rome, he was after his manner as good a churchman as any pope.”6 Nor does he take refuge in an invisible church made up of the elect. He acknowledges such a church, but when he comments on the phrase in the Apostles’ Creed—“I believe [in] the church”—he affirms that this refers both to the visible church and to all God’s elect, including the saints in glory.7 It is this church in which “we have been united with all other members under Christ our head” which is also catholic or universal, “because there could not be two or three churches unless Christ be torn asunder [cf. 1 Cor. 1:13]—which cannot happen!”8 But all the elect are so united in Christ [cf. Eph. 1:22–23] that as they are dependent on one head, they also grow together into one body, being joined and knit together [cf. Eph. 4:16] as are the limbs of a body [Rom. 12:5; 1 Cor. 10:17; 12:12, 27]. They are made truly one since they live together in one faith, hope, and love, and in the same Spirit of God. For they have been called not only into the same flesh, we become like the angels [Matt. 22:30]. Our weakness does not allow us to be dismissed from her school until we have been her pupils all our lives,” IV.1.4, 1016. 5 Augustine repeats this phrase in several of his writings. See note 3 in the LCC edition of the Institutes, 1012. 6 Calvin (1933), 136, quoted in G.S.M. Walker, “Calvin and the Church,” in Donald K. McKim, ed., Readings in Calvin’s Theology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1984), 212. 7 Institutes IV.1.2, 1013. “Just as we must believe, therefore, that the former church, invisible to us, is visible to the eyes of God alone, so we are commanded to revere and keep communion with the latter, which is called ‘church’ in respect to men” (IV.1.7, 1022). Thus, despite his distinction between the invisible and visible church—made first by Augustine—it is the visible church which is the object of his attention in Book IV of the Institutes. As Eric Jay notes, “Calvin integrates the concepts of the invisible church and the visible in a way which Luther never succeeded in achieving,” The Church. Its Changing Image Through Twenty Centuries (Atlanta: John Knox, 1980), 170. 8 Institutes IV.1.2, 1014. Note: The brackets here and elsewhere are often not in the original text but have been added by the translator. Cf. the answer to Question 54 of the Heidelberg Catechism concerning the holy catholic church: “I believe that from the beginning to the end of the world, and from among the whole human race, the Son of God, by his Spirit and his Word, gathers, protects, and preserves for himself, in the unity of the true faith, a congregation chosen for eternal life. . . .” (emphasis mine).

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inheritance of eternal life but also to participate in one God and Christ [Eph. 5:30].9 This, in short, is Calvin’s vision of the one holy catholic church from which we separate ourselves to our own peril. For “it is always disastrous to leave the church.”10 Not only that, but “separation from the church is the denial of God and Christ.”11

The Unity and Catholicity of the Church We have already seen that Calvin’s high view of the church is based on the presupposition that her unity is based on a unity within the one Christ. Because the various members of the holy catholic church are one in Christ, they are therefore one with each other. In his famous letter to Cardinal Sadolet, he affirms with passion his convictions concerning both the unity and the catholicity of the church. Now if you can bear to receive a truer definition of the church than your own, say in the future that it is the society of all the saints which, spread over all the world and existing in all ages yet bound together by the doctrine and the one Spirit of Christ, cultivates and observes unity of faith and brotherly concord. With this church we deny that we have any disagreement. Rather, as we revere her as our mother, so we desire to remain in her bosom.”12

Speaking of the ministry, the gifts God has given to his church, and the presence of the Spirit in the church, Calvin says: Thus the renewal of the saints is accomplished; thus the body of Christ is built up [Eph. 4:12]; thus “we grow up in every way into him who is the Head” [Eph. 4:15] and grow together among ourselves; thus are we all brought into the unity of Christ, if prophecy flourishes among us, if we do not refuse the doctrine administered to us.13 (emphasis mine)

9

Institutes IV.1.2, 1014. Institutes IV.1.4, 1016. Cf. IV.1.10, 1024. 11 Institutes IV.1.10, 1024. 12 “Reply to Sadolet,” Calvin: Theological Treatises, trans. and ed. by J.K.S. Reid. Library of Christian Classics, Vol. XXII (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1954), 231. 13 Institutes IV.3.2, 1055. According to Francois Wendel, that is what St. Augustine was already saying in The City of God, where he affirmed that “all who are animated by the love of God constitute one religious and social community,” Calvin (New York: Harper & Row, 1963), 295. Wendel also cites passages from Bucer, Calvin’s Strasbourg colleague and mentor, to the same effect. 10

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However, as biblical scholars have pointed out, Christian unity is both a gift and a task. The above quotations from Calvin have spoken of the reality of our unity in Jesus Christ. Nevertheless, the title of the first chapter, Book IV, of the Institutes, where Calvin begins his discussion of the church, shows that he knows that true unity in Christ is something for which we must be constantly striving. The title reads: “The True Church with Which as Mother of All the Godly We Must Keep Unity.”14 Calvin is painfully aware of the divided body of Christ,15 not only between the Roman Catholic and Protestant churches, but also within Protestantism. Ultimately, disunity becomes a problem for individual congregations which are microcosms of the church at large. Here, too, in the strongest terms, he declares that: we cannot obtain eternal life without living in mutual harmony in this world. For God invites all with His one voice, so that they may be united in the same agreement of faith [ fidei consensu], and study to help one another. If only this thought were implanted in our minds, that there is set before us this law [legem] that the children of God can no more disagree among themselves than the Kingdom of heaven can be divided, how much more carefully we should cultivate brotherly kindness! How much we should hate all quarrels, if we duly reflected that all who separate from their brethren, estrange themselves from the Kingdom of God!16

Here Calvin speaks of the “Kingdom of heaven” and the “Kingdom of God,” but in a context that shows these terms are synonyms for the church. Calvin’s view of the church is such that even when he refers to the church in a local situation, it is generally the one holy catholic church which he has in mind. To the unity of this church and its catholicity, Calvin gave his life. This understanding of the church is expressed concisely in his Geneva Catechism where in response to the question, “What is meant by the word catholic or universal?” he replies:

14

Title of IV.1.1, 1011. “The divisions of the church, the ‘frightful mutilation of Christ’s body’ caused Calvin profound pain,” McNeill, Unitive Protestantism, 72. 16 Commentary on Ephesians 4:4. Trans. T.H.L. Parker in the Torrance edition (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1965), 172. 15

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i. john hesselink It is meant to signify, that as there is only one Head of the faithful, so they must all be united in one body, so that there are not several churches but one only, which is extended throughout the whole world.17

Calvin’s Abhorrence of Schism In view of the statements cited above, one might wonder how Calvin justified his own departure from the Roman church. On an existential level, the answer is simple. Had Calvin remained in his homeland and continued his attempts to reform the church from within, he would have literally lost his head or would have been burned at the stake—a fate experienced by several of his reform-minded friends. From that standpoint, Calvin could say with Luther that he didn’t leave the Roman church; the church forced him out.18 On a theological level, however, the problem is more complex. On the one hand, there is no more “atrocious crime” than disloyalty to the church.19 “For the Lord esteems the communion of his church so highly that he counts as a traitor and apostate from Christianity anyone who arrogantly leaves any Christian society [Calvin’s favorite way of defining the church, i.e., as a societas], provided it cherishes the true ministry of Word and sacraments.”20

17 Q. and A. 97, in The School of Faith. The Catechisms of the Reformed Church, ed. T.F. Torrance. 18 “I forebear to mention that they have expelled us with anathemas and curses. . . . Since, therefore, it is clear that we have been cast out, and we are ready to show that this happened for Christ’s sake, surely the case ought to be investigated before any decision is made about us, one way or the other,” Institutes IV.2.6, 1048. Jean Cadier, the French Calvin scholar, argues that Calvin, being a second generation reformer, aligned himself with a movement which had already broken with the church. Therefore, according to Cadier, “Calvin’s position vis-à-vis Rome was quite distinctly a position of separation,” “Calvin and the Union of the Churches,” John Calvin, ed. G.E. Duffield, Courtenay Studies in Theology 1 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1966), 118. However, Calvin’s own testimony, just cited, indicates that he felt that he was “cast out” of the church by the Roman hierarchy. As Cadier points out later in his essay, “Calvin wanted the reformation of the church, her renewal, and not a deep division. He wanted a purified church, not a new church,” 119. Also, Alexandre Ganoczy, the leading Roman Catholic Calvin scholar, notes that “the young Calvin looked with an evil eye upon any attempt, even by evangelicals, to form separate ecclesial communities,” The Young Calvin (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1987), 271. 19 Institutes IV.1.10, 1025. 20 Institutes IV.1.10, 1024. “Nothing in Calvin’s teaching is expressed with more emphasis than his horror of schism,” McNeill, Unitive Protestantism, 72.

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On the other hand, Calvin radically questioned the right of the Roman church to claim to be a church in view of its infidelity to the gospel. Note the condition in the above quotation: “provided it cherishes the true ministry of Word and sacraments.”21 On both counts Calvin was convinced that the Roman church of his time was egregiously in error. It is noteworthy that he does not quibble about the many minor deviations and abuses. Calvin is no purist. He concedes that “some fault may creep into the administration of either doctrine or sacraments, but this ought not to estrange us from communion with the church.”22 Along with the Lutherans, who had earlier designated two marks (notae) of the church in their Augsburg Confession (Article 7), Calvin acknowledges that there is a church wherever “we see the Word of God purely preached and heard, and the sacraments administered according to Christ’s institution.”23 Again, Calvin shows surprising liberality, for he adds that such a definition holds to the extent “that we must not reject it [Rome] so long as it retains them, even if it otherwise swarms with many faults.”24 The issue, for Calvin, was much more profound than some doctrinal deviations and moral lapses. Those he could countenance, even though he might detest them. The one, fundamental, non-negotiable point was the doctrine of Christ, and there, he was convinced, the Church of Rome was fatally in error. Accordingly, he would not concede that he was guilty of schism when he left Rome. Instead, he insisted that Rome was guilty of heresy and schism from the true church by its rejection of God’s Word and above all by its rejection of Christ. For the fundamental doctrine, which it is criminal [nefas] to overthrow, is that we cleave to Christ, for he is the only foundation [unicum fundamentum] of the church.”25 The papists, Calvin maintains, “choose to have a half Christ and a mangled Christ and so none at all and are therefore removed from

21

Institutes IV.1.10, 1024, emphasis mine. Institutes IV.1.12, 1025. 23 Institutes IV.1.9, 1023. In contrast to the Lutherans, however, in reference to pure preaching of the Word, Calvin adds “and heard.” Later he adds “and reverently heard,” IV.1.10, 1024. A church does not exist without an appropriate response to the preaching of the Word! 24 Institutes IV.1.12, 1025. 25 Commentary on 1 Cor. 3:11, translation mine. Cf. the translation by John W. Fraser in the Torrance edition. 22

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Christ.”26 Precisely wherein the Roman church has “mangled Christ” is spelled out in the Institutes, Book IV, chapter two: the denial that Christ is the sole mediator, the corruption of the mass which has become a form of idolatry, the adoration of the virgin, and the appeal to saints to intercede for sinners.27 In these and other ways, the glory of Christ is hopelessly compromised. Calvin came to the painful conclusion that he had to choose between Christ and Rome.28 It was necessary to withdraw from Rome that he “might come to Christ.”29 Hence, Calvin protests vigorously that he is not the schismatic; rather, it is Rome which has departed from the true church! In a letter he cries out defiantly: “May the angels of God bear witness as to who are the schismatics!”30 In view of the many ways in which Rome had corrupted and deformed the church beyond recognition, Calvin concludes: “In withdrawing from deadly participation in so many misdeeds, there is accordingly no danger that we be snatched away from the church of Christ.”31 Yet, despite his trenchant criticisms of the Roman Church, Calvin did not write it off completely. In some ways he was more charitable than Luther, who was accustomed to call the Roman church “the whore of Babylon” and “the church of the Antichrist.”32 For despite all her lapses and aberrations, Calvin sees remnants or vestiges of the church within the Roman church.33 He distinguishes, for example, between the papacy and vicious members of the hierarchy whom he likens to

26 Commentary on Gal. 1:5, trans. T.H.L. Parker in the Torrance edition of Calvin’s New Testament Commentaries (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1965), 13. 27 See especially Institutes IV.2.2, 4, 6–9. 28 “Nobody ever condemned schism from the true church more vigorously than Calvin; and nobody ever felt logically and emotionally more certainty in rejecting the obedience of Rome,” McNeill, Unitive Protestantism, 180. 29 Institutes IV.2.6, 1048. 30 Quoted in Ganoczy, The Young Calvin, 279. 31 Institutes IV.2.2, 1042. 32 In his thorough study of this subject, Ganoczy points out that in Calvin’s dedicatory epistle to King Francis in the first edition of the Institutes, “[i]n only one place does he [Calvin] use the expression ‘the church of the Antichrist’ to stigmatize those who in the name of the ‘church’ introduced communion in one kind; Calvin opposes them to the ‘apostolic church.’ But even here, the context shows that he intended to compare two states, the one corrupt, the other ideal, of the same Catholic Church,” The Young Calvin, 273. However, see the LCC edition of the Institutes IV.2.12, 1052 and note 16. 33 G.S.M. Walker points out that all her flaws notwithstanding, the Roman church “always intends to be Christ’s body, whereas the Anabaptists reject the very possibility of a church as Calvin understands it,” in “Calvin and the Church,” 216.

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wolves, and faithful priests and leaders like Cardinal Sadolet whom he obviously respects. We indeed, Sadolet, do not deny that those churches over which you preside are churches of Christ; but we maintain that Roman pontiff, with all the herd of pseudo-bishops who have seized the pastor’s office, are savage wolves, whose only interest has hitherto been to scatter and trample upon the kingdom of Christ, filling it with devastation and ruin.34

A few lines later Calvin observes that “little now stands between her [the Roman church] and destruction,” but he will still concede (later in the Institutes) that “we do not deprive the papists of those traces of the church which the Lord willed should among them survive the destruction.”35 But he quickly notes that this is due more to God’s gracious providence and covenant faithfulness than to the virtues of the Roman church’s leadership! Just as often happens, “when buildings are pulled down the foundations and ruins remain, so [God] did not allow his church either to be destroyed to the very foundations by Antichrist or to be leveled to the ground, even though to punish the ungratefulness of men who had despised his word he let it undergo frightful shaking and shattering, but even after this very destruction willed that a half-demolished building remain.”36 Calvin remains ambivalent about the Roman Catholic Church.37 Although, given the spirit of the times, he can be surprisingly charitable, he is basically pessimistic about the Roman church as a whole, especially the papacy and those he opprobriously dubs ‘papists.’ On the one hand, he will allow “that we by no means deny that the churches under his [the pope’s] tyranny remain churches.”38 On the other hand, he points out that in these churches, “Christ lies hidden, half buried, the gospel overthrown, piety scattered, the worship of God nearly

34 “Reply to Sadolet,” trans. and ed. by J.K.S. Reid, 241. “When we categorically deny to the papists the title of the church, we do not for this reason impugn the existence of churches among them,” Institutes IV.2.12, 1052. “That Calvin concedes the existence of individual churches also with the Roman Church (Paptskirche) is also very important for his concept of the church,” Otto Weber, “Die Einheit der Kirche bei Calvin,” in Calvin Studien 1959, ed. Jurgen Moltmann (Neukirchen: Neukirchen Kreis Moers, 1960), 136. 35 Institutes IV.2.11, 1051. 36 Institutes IV.2.11, 1052. 37 On the question of Calvin’s attitude toward the Roman church, see the essay by G.C. Berkouwer, “Calvin and Rome,” in John Calvin, Contemporary Prophet, ed. Jacob T. Hoogstra (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1959), 185ff. 38 Institutes IV.2.17, 1052.

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wiped out. In them, briefly, everything is so confused that there we see the face of Babylon rather than that of the Holy City of God.”39 Despite such a negative assessment, the Roman Catholic Calvin scholar, Alexandre Ganoczy, takes comfort in the fact that in Calvin’s various discussions of the Church of Rome he rarely, if ever, opposes a true church to a totally false church. Even where he compares a corrupt church (Rome) to the ideal church, he compares two states of the church,40 not two churches. Unlike Luther, he avoids speaking of the Roman Catholic church as a false church.41 Calvin, however, not only did not view himself as schismatic, he also constantly inveighed against schism in the strongest terms. There may be hypocrisy, moral lapses, and scandals within a church, but as long as the two marks of the church are “sufficiently delineated” (sufficienter descriptam), we are not justified in separating from that church.”42 A case in point is the church in Corinth, which was guilty of all of the above. Yet, the Apostle Paul addresses them as saints! Calvin regards this as highly significant. In his commentary on 1 Corinthians 1:2 he admonishes his readers: Despite the fact that somehow or other many vices and various corruptions of teaching and manners had crept in [the Corinthian church], some marks (signa) of the true church were nevertheless still apparent. We should give close attention to this verse, however, lest we should expect in the world a church without spot or wrinkle, or immediately withhold this title from any gathering whatever, in which everything does not satisfy our standards. For it is a dangerous thing to think there is no church where perfect purity is lacking. The point is that anyone who is obsessed by that idea must cut himself from everybody else, and appear to himself to be the only saint in the world, or he must set up a sect of his own along with other hypocrites.43

39

Institutes IV.2.17, 1053. Ganoczy, Young Calvin, p. 273. The Scottish American, Protestant scholar, Geddes Mac Gregor, concurs: “Calvin does not deny to a corrupt church the title of church; he distinguishes rather, between the right and the wrong state of the church,” Corpus Christi. The Nature of the Church According to the Reformed Tradition (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1958), 51. 41 Ganoczy, Young Calvin, 287. As Gottfried Locher points out, for Calvin and the other Reformers it was “the papacy as an institution” which they regarded as the antichrist (Locher, Calvin Anwalt der Ökumene, 24). 42 Institutes IV.1.13, 1027–8. 43 Comm. 1 Cor. 1:2. 40

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In the Institutes, there are similar sharp admonitions apparently directed to three groups: the Cathari (the name by which Calvin evidently refers to the Novatians [ca. 250]), who considered themselves ‘the pure ones,’ the Donatists of the fourth century, who were theological rigorists, and especially the Anabaptists of his own time.44 Of such people—and they are still with us—Calvin writes sarcastically that they are so “imbued with a false conviction of their own perfect sanctity, as if they had already become a sort of airy spirits, [that they] spurned association with all men in whom they discern any remnant of human nature.” Calvin reminded such “holier than thou” purists of the parable of the wheat and the tares (Matt. 13:47–58).45 As Wilhelm Niesel tartly observes in commenting on this section, “What is at issue is the living reality of Christ, not the formation of a circle of pious men.”46 Calvin’s entire ministry in Geneva is a testimony that he was concerned about the purity of the church. Thus, he is ever mindful of Ephesians 5:25–27: “. . . Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, in order to make her holy . . . so as to present the church to himself in splendor, without a spot or wrinkle or anything of the kind—yes, so that she may be holy and without blemish.” But, he adds, we must “examine in what holiness it [the church] excels, lest, if we are not willing to admit a church unless it be perfect in every respect, we leave no church at all.”47 According to Calvin’s understanding of Ephesians 5:25–27, the sanctification of the church is a process; its holiness is “not yet complete. The church is holy, then, in the sense that it is daily advancing and is not yet perfect: it makes progress from day to day but has not yet reached its goal of holiness. . . .”48 In this world there is no pure, flawless church, and hence, one must have very solid grounds for leaving it. Positively, what is required in order to maintain the unity of the church is a spirit of kindness, gentleness, and moderation.49 Above all,

44 In relation to Calvin’s reference in IV.1.13 to these three groups, the editors of the LCC edition of the Institutes note: “Though especially directed against the Anabaptists, this section is a vigorous rebuke to the Sectarian claim of superiority in all its forms,” 1027, note 24. 45 Institutes IV.1.13, 1027–8. 46 Wilhelm Niesel, The Theology of Calvin (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1956), 195. 47 Institutes, IV.1.17, 1031. 48 Institutes, IV.1.17, 1031. 49 Institutes, IV.1.13, 1027.

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we must keep in mind God’s generosity mediated to us in Jesus Christ and be willing to forgive even as we have been forgiven.50 Here Calvin sees significance in the fact that in the Apostles’ Creed, the article on the forgiveness of sins follows immediately after that on the church, “because the Lord has promised his mercy solely in the communion of saints. Forgiveness of sins, then, is for us the first entry into the church and Kingdom of God.”51 It is also the basis for the continuing life of the church. The Lord commands his people daily to pray: “Forgive us our debts” (emphasis mine), and then promises them pardon. In the same way, Christians must “emulate his kindness” and thereby maintain the peace and unity of the church.52

Involvement in Unity Efforts Calvin was no ivory tower theologian. In fact, he always regarded himself as primarily a pastor and churchman. When one examines the myriad activities in which he was involved, it is impossible to comprehend how this frail, sickly man could preach (sometimes almost daily), teach, counsel, found schools, hospitals and welfare agencies, provide leadership for a city, and carry on an amazing correspondence with troubled souls, clergy, theologians, princes, and potentates all over western Europe.53 In addition, insofar as his health and time permitted, he was an indefatigable promoter of unity within the Protestant ranks. He did not simply sit on the sidelines and offer counsel and advice; he was active and involved in all sorts of unity efforts, including early attempts at reunion with the Roman Catholic Church.54 In 1540 and 1541, Roman Catholics and Protestants met at Worms, Hagenau, and Regensburg in order to effect some kind of reconciliation. These conferences were promoted by the emperor Charles V whose primary goal was a united and peaceful Germany. Apparently

50

Institutes, IV.1.21, 1035. Institutes, IV.1.20, 1034. 52 Institutes, IV.1.21, 1034–5. 53 I have attempted to describe briefly the multifaceted character of Calvin’s activities in an earlier essay, “The Catholic Character of Calvin’s Life and Work,” The Reformed Review, 19/2 (Dec., 1965), 13–19. 54 “The question of the unity of the church . . . became for Calvin the mid-point (Mittelpunkt) of his thought and activity. For him this was not a theoretical question but one of extremely practical urgency.” Weber, “Die Einheit der Kirche,” 131. 51

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because of distrust concerning the whole venture, two of the leading Reformers, Luther and Bullinger—Zwingli’s successor in Zurich, were not there. Calvin participated but played a minor role, apparently deferring to Bucer, his older friend and colleague in Strasbourg, and Melanchthon, who was the principal Lutheran representative. Various letters of Calvin reveal that much as he respected Bucer and Melanchthon, he was at times concerned about the ‘ambiguous formulas’ which they devised in order to reach some kind of agreement. (Both had reputations for being too willing to compromise.) The whole experience may have been a little disillusioning for the young Calvin—he was barely 30—for all three conferences ended in failure. The cause of their failure, according to one historian, “lay not in the influence of this or that personality, but in the nature of the business itself, in the effort to unite irreconcilable opposites.”55 Calvin’s own attitude comes out clearly in an introduction to the Acts of the Conference of Regensburg (here referred to as Ratisbon): There are many holy persons in all nations, true lovers of the truth of God and desirous of the advancement of his kingdom. They wait from day to day for the time when the Lord will be pleased to set his Church in order again, and have their ears open listening continuously for news that some overture has been made for putting the church in a better state. But there are also many weak people throughout the world, who dare not decide what path they must follow until there is a reformation brought about by the combined authority of those to whom God has given the rule and government of Christendom. I thought therefore that it would be a useful task, and one profitable for all Christians, to set in order the sum of what has lately been treated of amongst all the States of the Empire at the conference of Ratisbon, touching differences in Religion. My purpose is that the former may have reason to be comforted and to rejoice in our Lord, seeing that the truth of the gospel, though assailed by the devil, has not been suppressed and vanquished, but rather set forward; and that the latter may realize, from the proceedings which took place there, that it is time wasted to rely upon men, as they will easily see; and that they may accept the light of God when it is offered to them, without looking this way and that to see which way the wind is blowing.56

55

J. Janssen, quoted in McNeill, Unitive Protestantism, 174, note 117. Quoted in Cadier, “Calvin and the Union of the Churches,” John Calvin, ed. Duffield, 122. 56

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Later Calvin was to be completely disillusioned about any possible rapprochement with Rome. By the time of the Council of Trent (1545–1563), he viewed the papacy as incorrigible. He counterattacked its various charges with a variety of tracts and treatises, the most significant being “Acts of the Council of Trent with the Antidote,” which appeared in November, 1547.57 Even here, however, it is noteworthy that a contemporary Roman Catholic scholar, Kilian McDonnell, concludes that “Calvin’s polemic is essentially pastoral in tone. . . . He frequently attacked Rome on a doctrinal level—it had lost its soul, doctrinal purity—but his polemics as a whole proceed from an existential situation.”58 In other words, despite his antipathy to the ‘papists’ and his irritation with their attacks against Protestants, Calvin did not resort to continual anti-Roman polemics. He had more important and more constructive things to do. In particular, he constantly sought to unify the scattered Protestant forces which were in danger of even further fragmentation.”59 His initial efforts were local because the various Swiss Protestant churches tended to operate independently of each other and not infrequently experienced tensions among themselves. Calvin’s role was that of a mediator, sometimes between factions, often between hostile personalities. In the case of the former, during his first stay in Geneva, he mediated in a dispute that took place in Bern, and in 1538 wrote to Bullinger, now the undisputed leader of the German speaking Swiss Protestant churches, about the possibility of a public synod in order to foster “‘mutual agreement’ among them (inter nos concordia).”60 Nothing came of the proposal at that time, for Calvin soon found himself in Strasbourg. Shortly after his return to Geneva in 1541, the 57

Available in English translation by Henry Beveridge in Calvin’s Tracts and Treatises, Vol. III, with Notes and Introduction by T.F. Torrance (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1958), 18–88. A brief account of Calvin’s reactions to the Council can be found in the dedication of his commentary on the Catholic Epistles to Edward VI. Trans. W.B. Johnston in the Torrance edition of Hebrews and 1 and 2 Peter (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1963), 227ff. 58 Kilian McDonnell, John Calvin, the Church, and the Eucharist (Princeton: Princeton U. Press, 1967), 108. 59 His union efforts did not, however, extend to the Anabaptists and other sectarians whom Calvin along with the other major Reformers regarded as ‘beyond the pale.’ But at least he didn’t drown them as Zwingli had done earlier in Zurich! See his treatise, “Against the Sect of the Anabaptists” (1544) in which he refutes seven of their teachings. Cf. McNeill, The History and Character of Calvinism (New York: Oxford U. Press, 1954), 207. 60 Quoted in McNeill, Unitive Protestantism, 183.

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old feud between Zurich and Wittenberg concerning the Lord’s Supper heated up. It was no longer Zwingli (who had been killed in 1531), but his successor, Bullinger, who now represented the German Swiss approach. Zwingli’s symbolic view of the Supper had been modified, but not enough for Luther who viciously attacked the Swiss Reformers in a “Short Confession of the Lord’s Supper” (1544). When Bullinger and his friends replied in kind, it fell to Calvin to mediate in this nasty affair. He was between a rock and a hard place, for he felt closer to Luther than to the Zurichers in regard to the Lord’s Supper, but felt more kinship overall with his Swiss German compatriots than many of the Lutherans—Melanchthon being a notable exception. Calvin even considered making a trip to Wittenberg to visit Luther, whom he had never met, but the distance—a twenty-days journey— and his poor health militated against that. He was, moreover, advised that Luther was in no mood to meet anyone from Switzerland, not even Calvin for whom he reportedly had a high regard. The feeling was mutual, for Calvin refused to attack Luther, despite some of his intemperate outbursts which Calvin might have taken personally. Earlier Calvin had given concrete evidence of his good will toward the Lutherans by indicating his agreement with the amended (Variata) version of the Augsburg Confession (1540) for which Melanchthon was largely responsible. Unfortunately, after Luther’s death in 1546, right-wing Lutherans, who had become an increasing source of embarrassment to Luther during the latter years of his life, took control of the Lutheran party. They harassed Melanchthon, who soon had little influence and eventually some of them—particularly Hesshus and Westphal—turned on Calvin with scurrilous attacks on his view of the Lord’s Supper.61 Thus, despite various attempts at mediation on the part of both Melanchthon and Calvin, the Swiss Reformed and German Lutherans grew farther apart. Not until the second half of the twentieth century has some of this antagonism and suspicion been overcome.62

61 This story is told in greater detail with supporting evidence by McNeill, Unitive Protestantism, 185–95. Cf. the account by John H. Kromminga, “Calvin and Ecumenicity,” in Calvin, Contemporary Prophet, ed. Hoogstra, 154ff. 62 In addition to Lutheran-Reformed dialogue which has been taking place in North America for more than a decade, two significant Lutheran-Reformed conferences have been held in Germany in recent years with some positive results. See Protestant Agreement on the Lord’s Supper by Eugene M. Skibbe (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1968), which contains the Arnoldshain Theses (1962); and The Leuenberg Agreement

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In the meantime, Calvin was expending considerable energy toward bringing about greater unity between the French Swiss, represented by Geneva, and the German Swiss, represented by Zurich. Fortunately, Calvin and Bullinger had established a relationship that enabled them to work at their differences amiably. The stumbling block was their respective interpretations of the sacraments, particularly the Lord’s Supper. As early as 1538, Calvin wrote to Bullinger: Oh, if only a pure and sincere agreement could be reached among us at last! What then would prevent the assembling of a public synod, where individuals might propose whatever they think best for the churches? A way might be found out of going to work by common deliberation, and, if need be, that the cities and princes also should assist in this understanding by mutual exhortation and counsel, and also confirm what is done by their authority. But in such great perplexity, the Lord is rather to be inquired of, that he himself may open up the way.63

This dream reached fruition approximately ten years later when all of the Swiss Reformed churches subscribed to the Concensus Tigurinus (also called the Zurich Concensus) in 1549. This was no small accomplishment, given not only the substantial differences between Calvin and the followers of Zwingli on the Lord’s Supper, but also the centuries old feuds and jealousies between several of the Swiss towns and families. In fact, the Bernese, who had always resented the Genevans, gave only verbal assent to the Concensus. It is generally felt that Calvin conceded more than Bullinger, although the extreme Zwinglian view that the sacraments were bare signs was rejected. Calvin hoped thereby that the Concensus would commend itself to the German Lutherans and to others who were understandably confused as to what the Swiss really believed. Many responses were favorable: from Bucer and a’Lasco, now in England, and from some of the leaders in the Palatinate (Heidelberg) which were more open to Reformed views. The German Lutherans as a whole, however, were now in the control of the hard line confessionalist wing (Luther having died three years earlier), and they reacted very negatively. In succeeding years, the situation worsened as far as this Lutheran faction was concerned, for beginning in 1552, Joachim Westphal wrote a series of

and Lutheran-Reformed Relationships, ed. William G. Rusch and Daniel F. Martensen (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 1989). The meeting Leuenberg, Germany, took place in September, 1971. 63 Quoted in Parker, “Calvin the Ecumenical Churchman,” 114.

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tracts denouncing the sacramental views of not only Calvin but also Bullinger, a’Lasco, Peter Martyr, and that of the Concensus. Even so, the Concensus Tigurinus was a notable achievement, for now there were ‘two Protestantisms’ on the continent instead of three.64 In the meantime, Calvin was active for the cause of unity on many other fronts, largely through correspondence. Often his role was that of a mediator who tried to clear up misunderstandings among Reformers, e.g., Bullinger and Bucer.65 On other occasions, he corresponded with the moderate followers of Luther, in the hope of rallying them to the cause of Protestant unity. An examination of his voluminous correspondence66 also shows that he was not bashful about appealing for support to regional princes, kings, and queens. This list includes Edward VI, king of England, the Duke of Somerset, the king of Poland, both the king and the queen of Navarre, and lesser political figures who were advisors to royalty.67 Calvin also dedicated the first edition of the Institutes to King Francis of France with the hope of getting a hearing for his persecuted countrymen in France. Although these ventures were rarely successful, he never gave up nor lost his zeal for a more united Protestantism. A fascinating example of how irenic Calvin could be toward people of difficult manner or differing opinion is his lifelong friendship with the Lutheran leader, Melanchthon, the great waffler of the sixteenth century. Despite their differences on such key doctrines as predestination and the believer’s role in salvation—and Melanchthon’s willingness at times to compromise on basic issues for the sake of peace—Calvin always stood by his friend. After Luther’s death, he became one of his few supporters.68 64

Variations of this statement are found in various discussions of this theme. McNeill, Unitive Protestantism, 198, attributes it originally to Emile Doumergue, the great French Calvin scholar. 65 See McNeill, Unitive Protestantism, 195. 66 Two volumes of his correspondence, edited by Jules Bonnet, are available in English but are out of print. Cf. the handy little paperback edition, Letters of John Calvin, together with a brief life of Calvin, published by the Banner of Truth Trust (Edinburgh and Carlisle, 1980). 67 “Such letters to those in high places should not be seen as an uncalled-for interference. Rather he is writing in the succession of St. Bernard of Clairvaux, who, himself but an abbot, told kings and popes their duty without mincing his words but with the perfect courtesy of humility,” Parker, Commentary on Ephesians 4:4, 116. 68 For letters which reveal a touching tenderness in their relationship see Kromminga, “Calvin and Ecumenicity,” 155ff., and Richard Stauffer, The Humanness of John Calvin, trans. George Shriver (Nashville: Abingdon, 1971), 64–66.

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Calvin was also notably more tolerant than his compatriots in other realms. He was, for example, willing to accept bishops, provided their role was primarily administrative and pastoral, without the exercise of ‘lordship’ (dominium) over their colleagues. “For the Holy Spirit willed men to beware of dreaming of a principality or lordship as far as the government of the church is concerned.”69 Calvin preferred his own system with the parity of elders, but he allowed that in certain cases episcopacy might be expedient. In his commentary on Numbers 3:5, he writes: Distinction of a political kind is not to be rejected, for common sense itself dictates it in order to remove confusion. But whatever has this end in view will be so arranged as neither to obscure the glory of Christ nor to minister to ambition or tyranny, nor to hinder all ministers from cultivating a mutual brotherliness among themselves with equal rights and liberties.70

Such a bishop was Archbishop Cranmer in England whom Calvin greatly respected and regarded as a friend even though they never met. Calvin had long had an interest in the English church, although he was not pleased with the partial reformation initiated by Henry VIII. In addition to Cranmer, he also carried on a lengthy correspondence with the Protector Somerset about the best way to reform the Church of England. His best known letter is his response to Archbishop Cranmer’s proposal for an ecumenical gathering of key Reformers, including Bullinger and Melanchthon, to be held in the Lambeth Palace. The purpose was to compose a creed or confession acceptable to all Protestant churches. Although the proposal came to nothing because of the death of Edward VI and the martyrdom of Cranmer himself, Calvin’s famous reply to Cranmer is moving: I wish indeed it could be brought about that men of learning and authority from the different Churches might meet somewhere and, after thoroughly discussing the different articles of faith, should, by a unanimous decision, hand down to posterity some certain rule of faith. . . . As to myself, if I should be thought of any use, I would not, if need be, object to cross ten seas for such a purpose. If the assisting of England were alone concerned, that would be motive enough for me. Much more,

69

Institutes IV.4.2, 4, 1072 (cf. 1069). Commentary on the Harmony of the Last Four Books of Moses, II, 221. I am indebted to Jay, The Church, 173, for this quotation. 70

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therefore, am I of opinion that I ought to grudge no labour or trouble, seeing that the object in view is an agreement among the learned, to be drawn up by the weight of their authority according to Scripture, in order to unite widely severed Churches.71

It might appear that the ecumenical efforts of Calvin—and kindred spirits like Bucer, Melanchthon, and Cranmer—produced little fruit. Yet, in the judgment of many Reformation scholars, Calvin saved Europe for the Reformation. Karl Holl, the great Lutheran historian of a past generation, pays this tribute to Calvin’s contribution: Far more than the German reformers Calvin lived for the common interests of Protestantism. . . . His involvement in the whole movement takes place in an age where the question was whether the Reformation would be able to maintain its international position. . . . One must count it extremely fortunate (ein hohes Glück) for Protestantism that Calvin entered the scene at this time. His intervention meant above all two things: decisiveness and organization. Thereby he saved the Reformation from extinction.72

The Criteria for Unity I indicated at the outset that for all of Calvin’s openness, flexibility, and irenic spirit toward ecumenism, he was no sentimentalist interested in unity at any price. For him the bottom line was the truth of the gospel and, more particularly, the glory of Christ. In regard to ‘ceremonies’ or adiaphora, Calvin was more lenient than most of his Protestant colleagues. He never permitted his disapproval of certain practices pertaining to the Lord’s Supper and other liturgical rites to be a stumbling block to unity.73 In fact, Calvin’s list of essential or fundamental doctrines is surprisingly slim. Although he is speaking illustratively, it still may surprise many to learn that the doctrines which “are so necessary to know that they should be certain and unquestioned by all men as the proper principles of religion” are only these: “God is one; Christ is God and

71 Letter of April, 1552, quoted in A. Mitchell Hunter, The Teaching of Calvin, 2nd ed. (London: James Clark, 1950), 164. 72 From Holl’s Gesammelte Aufsätze zur Kirchengeschichte, III, quoted in Nijenhuis, Der ökumenische Calvin, 191. 73 For more specific examples see McNeill, Unitive Protestantism, 185, and Kromminga, “Calvin and Ecumenicity,” 157f., 161.

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the Son of God; our salvation rests in God’s mercy; and the like [et similia].”74 The inevitable question is: What kinds of doctrines does Calvin have in mind with the phrase, “and the like”? We have no answer beyond his Second Defense of the Faith concerning the Sacraments in Answer to Joachim Westphal, which contains a similar but considerably fuller list of what he calls ‘leading articles’ of the Christian faith: In regard to the one God and his true and legitimate worship, the corruption of human nature, free salvation, the mode of obtaining justification, the office and power of Christ, repentance and its exercises, faith which, relying on the promises of the gospel, gives us assurance of salvation, prayer to God, and other leading articles, the same doctrine is preached by both. We call on one God the Father, trusting to the same Mediator; the same Spirit of adoption is the earnest of our future inheritance. Christ has reconciled us all by the same sacrifice. In that righteousness which he has purchased for us, our minds are at peace, and we glory in the same head. It is strange if Christ, whom we preach as our peace, and who, removing the ground of disagreement, appeased to us our Father in heaven, do not also cause us mutually to cultivate brotherly peace on earth.75

Even in this list of apparently fundamental doctrines, we have nothing novel or peculiarly Calvinian. He was clearly trying to establish a basis for agreement which would include the essential doctrines of the historic faith without excluding anyone unnecessarily. As Otto Weber points out, by his appeal to the consensus of the ancient church concerning basic doctrines and by his flexibility in regard to what must be believed, Calvin was more ‘catholic’ than the Lutherans—or Roman Catholics!76 In general, however, Calvin’s basis for unity was the Word or the truth, which for him were basically identical. His writings abound with statements like: The church does not exist “where God’s Word is not found.” The ‘Word’ in this case is the voice of the Lord of the

74 Institutes, IV.1.12, 1026. The editors of the LCC edition of the Institutes note that “The distinction of fundamental and nonfundamental articles of belief is woven into Calvin’s thought, though not definitely treated by him.” They go on to point out that the notion of fundamental articles formed the core of various liberal projects of union in the seventeenth century . . ., 1026–27, note 21. 75 Calvin’s Tracts and Treatises, Vol. II, 251. W.F. Dankbaar, the Dutch church historian, feels that “One could hardly describe better the basis of ecumenical unity . . .,” Calvin, sein Weg und sein Werk (Neukirchen: Neukirchener Verlag, 1959), 182. 76 Weber, “Die Einheit der Kirche,” 141.

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church: “Everyone who is of the truth hears my voice [John 18:37].”77 He concludes one discussion in a similar fashion: “To sum up, since the church is Christ’s Kingdom, and he reigns by his Word alone, will it not be clear to any man that those are lying words [cf. Jer, 7:4] by which the Kingdom of Christ is imagined to exist apart from his scepter (that is, his most holy Word)?”78 However precious and desirable unity may be, it must never be achieved at the expense of truth. Such a unity would produce a chimera, not a church. For “there is no church unless it is obedient to the Word of God and is guided by it.”79 In his “Reply to Sadolet,” he expresses himself even more forcefully: “My conscience told me how strong the zeal was for the unity of thy church, provided thy truth were made the bond of concord.”80 Thus, unlike many contemporary American attempts at church union, Calvin began with doctrine, ‘the truth.’ Church structures or polity, if discussed at all, were secondary. Another illustration of this approach is the secondary function of Calvin’s two catechisms. Because their primary purpose was the instruction of children in Geneva, they were originally written in French. Both the 1537 and 1541 catechisms, however, later came out in a Latin edition in order to have a relatively simple doctrinal statement to share with other churches for the purpose of building up mutual trust and understanding. In the preface to his first catechism (Latin edition, 1538) he writes: “Because we know it befits us especially that all churches embrace one another in mutual love, there is no better way to attain this than for all parties to work out an agreement and testify to it in the Lord. For there is no closer bond than this to keep minds in harmony.”81 In his second catechism, the so-called Geneva Catechism (Latin edition, 1545), Calvin writes in a similar vein in his introductory Letter to the Reader: “In this confused and divided state of Christendom, I judge it useful to leave public testimonies by which churches that agree in doctrine, though widely separated in space, may mutually recognize each other.” In doing this, he maintains that he is only reviving 77

Institutes IV.2.4, 1046. Calvin then quotes John 10:14, 10:27, and 10:4–5. Institutes IV.2.4, 1046. 79 Commentary on Micah 2:2. 80 In Calvin: Theological Treatises, 250, emphasis mine. 81 John Calvin: Catechism (1538), trans. by Ford Lewis Battles in I. John Hesselink, Calvin’s First Catechism. A Commentary (Louisville, Westminster John Knox, 1997), 1.cf. 5. 78

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an ancient practice when “bishops once used to send synodal letters across the sea.”82 In the last analysis, however, Calvin’s great concern was neither abstract truth nor some list of doctrines, but the unreserved recognition of the Lord of the church, Jesus Christ himself. For “the fundamental doctrine, which it is forbidden to overthrow, is that we might learn [discamus] Christ. For Christ is the one and only foundation [unicum fundamentum] of the church.”83 Of the Roman Church he says that because they rested their confidence of salvation in Christ, “they had a ministry that was not wholly corrupt. . . . Hence wherever the worship of God is unimpaired, and that fundamental teaching, of which I have spoken, persists, there, we may without difficulty decide, the Church exists.”84 Unfortunately, in the Roman church as a whole, Calvin found only half a Christ, and hence had to leave that church in order to “find Christ.”85 In short, where the glory of Christ is unimpaired, there we have a church. And his glory shines most brightly when he is recognized as the Lord of the church and the only mediator between God and humanity. “Where the lordship of Christ is actualized, there is the church.”86 Such are Calvin’s criteria for true unity. One other important dimension needs to be added, however. Calvin acknowledged that one could be right in arguing one’s position but wrong in the way it was pursued. If one does not speak the truth in love (Gal. 5:6), one has not really spoken the truth at all, for the communion of the church “is held together by two bonds, agreement in sound doctrine and brotherly love.”87 He then commends Augustine’s distinction between heretics and schismatics: “[H]eretics corrupt the

82

In Calvin: Theological Treatises, 89. Commentary on 1 Corinthians 3:11, Calvin’s New Testament Commentaries, 74. “The church is founded in Christ by the preaching of doctrine,” Commentary on Ephesians 2:20, 154. 84 Commentary on 1 Corinthians 1:2, Calvin’s New Testament Commentaries, 18. 85 Institutes IV.2.6, 1048, cited earlier. “The heart of the matter for him [Calvin] . . . is whether they should have a half Christ or the fullness of Christ—whether they should worship and follow the Christ of the Scriptures alone, basing their whole life as a church and individuals upon him, or whether they should build only partly on Christ and partly also on some other foundation.” Parker, “Calvin the Ecumenical Churchman,” 109. 86 McDonnell, John Calvin, the Church, and the Eucharist, summarizing Calvin’s position. Cf. Calvin’s Commentary on Jeremiah 33:17: “This is the mark of the true church . . .: where the lordship and priesthood of Christ is earnestly recognized; but where Christ is not recognized as king and priest, there is nothing else but chaos.” 87 Institutes IV.2.5, 1046f. 83

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sincerity of the faith with false dogmas; but schismatics, while sometimes even of the same faith [i.e., believe the same things], break the bond of fellowship.”88 Calvin may be thinking here of an accusation by the Anabaptists which he encountered as a young man. In the preface of his second publication, Psychopannychia, written while still in France, he responds to the Anabaptists’ complaint that their rejection by other Christians reveals a lack of love and destroys Christian unity: This is my response to them: first, we acknowledge no unity except in Christ; and no charity except that of which Christ himself is the bond. Therefore, let this be the chief means of maintaining love, that the faith remains sacred and whole among us.89

Twenty five years later, in the final edition of the Institutes, Calvin was to make the same point, only this time in response to Roman Catholic critics. After pointing to the two bonds which must be held together, viz., sound doctrine and brotherly love, he adds that “it must also be noted that this conjunction of love so depends upon unity of faith that it ought to be its beginning, end, and, in fine, its sole rule.”90 Thus, for Calvin, the bottom line in ecumenical efforts is oneness in faith, especially concerning the person of Christ. But he insists that we always remember that other dimension: love. This, he observes in his reflections on Philippians 2:1ff., is the point of the Apostle Paul’s famous exhortation to humility based on the example of Christ. “The sum of this,” concludes Calvin, that Christians “be united in thought and will. For he places agreement in doctrine and mutual love.” Then, commenting on the apostle’s injunction to ‘be of one mind,’ Calvin adds: “Hence the beginning of love is harmony of outlook; but that is not sufficient, unless men’s hearts are at the same time joined together in love.”91 Although the argument is circular, it is no vicious circle! Truth and love must be united. Truth without love can be vicious; but love without truth can be vapid. As Ganoczy finely summarizes Calvin’s position,

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Institutes IV.2.5, 1047. Calvini Opera 5, 171–72. I am indebted to Ganoczy, The Young Calvin, 271, for this reference. 90 Commentary on Philippians 2:2, Torrance edition, 245. 91 Commentary on Philippians 2:2, Torrance edition, 245. 89

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i. john hesselink There certainly is no unity without love. But love in turn is not authentic if it is not founded upon Christ and a faith that is completely established in him. The Anabaptists, therefore, are wrong in demanding a love that would bargain away doctrinal integrity.92

Conclusion What does Calvin teach us today concerning Christian unity?93 In terms of principles, much—in terms of concrete application, relatively little. The latter is true because Calvin’s situation was very different from ours. His country did not have many different denominations. There were the Roman Catholics, the Reformed, and a few Anabaptists, the latter not taken very seriously. Calvin was instrumental in uniting the two factions within the Reformed camp, but he did not seek a great European Protestant church. His goal was recognition and affirmation of each others’ confessions and cooperation wherever possible, whether with the Lutheran Church in Germany, the Anglican Church in England, or the various Protestant churches in the Lowlands, Poland, Hungary, and elsewhere. For Calvin, unity did not necessarily mean union.94 But that should in no way lessen our zeal for greater unity whenever possible. Clearly, Calvin would not have settled for mere ‘spiritual’ union. All his exhortations about unity refer to the visible, not the invisible church. Moreover, he would probably be more open and tolerant than many contemporary church leaders. As John T. McNeill notes, “His passion for ecumenical unity induced an ecclesiastical tolerance that was unusual in his day and is still distasteful to many who profess themselves Christians.”95

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Ganoczy, The Young Calvin, 271. John Kromminga asks the same question at the conclusion of his essay on “Calvin and Ecumenicity,” in Calvin, Contemporary Prophet, 165, and balances off a series of ‘on the one hand’ and ‘but on the other hand.’ I would concede that “there are limits to the appeal which can be made to him” (149), but still feel some modest proposals can be made. 94 “This unity [which Calvin sought] is a fellowship (gemeenschap) given in Christ. It is the point of departure for Calvin’s ecumenical activities,” Nijenhuis, Calvinus Oecumenicus, 278. He “played for high stakes,” says McNeill. “Had his ardent hopes been fulfilled, Protestantism would have taken the outlines of a church ecumenical and conciliar . . .,” Unitive Protestantism, 219. 95 McNeill, History and Character of Calvinism, 229. 93

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On the other hand, Calvin would probably be scandalized by certain modern approaches to church union in which recognitions of the headship of Christ in the church is largely a formality. As the Roman Catholic theologian, Kilian McDonnell, puts it, “Calvin, like many reformation figures, thought that there was [in the Roman Church] too much church and too little Christ,”96 an appropriate warning for church bureaucrats of every age! In any case, it is clear that there were also limits to Calvin’s tolerance. Peace in the church was a pearl of great price, but not peace at any price. “’Peace’ is certainly a pleasing word,” Calvin notes in one of his commentaries, “but cursed is the peace that is obtained at so great a cost that there is lost to us the doctrine of Christ, by which alone we grow together into a godly and holy unity.”97 At the same time, Calvin would not countenance a petty denominationalism or narrow confessionalism. Here G.S.M. Walker is on target: It has been said [by O. Noordmans] that “because of its very origin Calvinism is an ecumenical movement.” Whereas Lutherans and Anglicans drew together into national churches, the followers of Calvin formed an international alliance, reaching out into many lands from the small city of Geneva, and occupying a central position in their churchmanship. Indeed, it is inaccurate to speak of Calvinism at all because, through his efforts for unity, Calvin secured something greater than a merely personal following. He aimed with considerable success at establishing a Reformed but catholic church.98

But Calvin himself should have the last word. It comes from the conclusion to his famous letter to Cardinal Sadolet: The Lord grant, Sadolet, that you and all your party may at length perceive that the only true bond of ecclesiastical unity consists in this: that Christ the Lord, who has reconciled us to God the Father, gather us out of our present dispersion into the fellowship of his body, so that through his one Word and Spirit, we may join together with one heart and one soul.99

96 97 98 99

McDonnell, John Calvin, the Church, and the Eucharist, 109. Commentary on Acts 15:2, Torrance edition, 27. Walker, “Calvin and the Church,” 229. “Reply to Sadolet,” Calvin: Theological Treatises, trans. and ed. by J.K.S. Reid, 256.

PART TWO

THE TOOLS FOR THE UNITY OF THE CHURCH—A THEOLOGICAL ANALYSIS

CHAPTER SIX

ONE CHURCH AND THE PURE PREACHING OF THE WORD THESES AND OBSERVATIONS ON THE THEME Alasdair Heron

This title implies first of all that the unity of the church is founded on the pure preaching of the Word of God. The stated position is generally shared by the Reformed and Lutheran traditions: cf. paragraph 7 of the Augsburg Confession on Word and Sacrament and the implications of satis est there. The Reformed tradition then went on—at the latest in the French Confession and Church Order of 1559 and the Scots Confession of 1560—to add the third mark of discipline. The statement can be seen both as a theological/dogmatic axiom and as an historical/phenomenological description. Both respects concern me in my research and teaching, which combine historical and dogmatic perspectives and methods. Each of these approaches, the historical and the dogmatic, presents its own tasks and problems. In addition, when they intersect, the intersection brings with it not insignificant, further tensions and questions. More of this below. A further intersection which has concerned me throughout my teaching career could be very broadly styled as that between the academy and the church, or between historical and/or dogmatic theology, on the one hand, and practical theology, on the other. Ten days ago, I conducted the Sunday service in the Reformed Church at Erlangen—the Hugenottenkirche—which has been the congregational home base for our family for the last twenty six years. The assigned sermon text was from Luke 15: the parable of the prodigal son, a parable, one may dare to say, with far-reaching ecclesiological implications, though you will not perhaps find these explicitly spelled out in our classical Reformed confessions. In addition to preaching on the parable, I spoke to the children on the two other parables in the same chapter: the lost sheep and the lost coin. On the following Thursday, in my dogmatics lecture (with some of the same students present as at the Sunday sermon), the subject happened to be ecclesiology. No parables! Instead, the usual suspects:

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qahal in the Old Testament and ἐκκλησία in the New Testament; models of the church (à la Paul Minear); ecclesiological questions from the early church onwards; the creedal affirmation, ‘one, holy, catholic and apostolic’; the marks of the true church according to the Reformation; contemporary ecumenical challenges; and finally, the tensions between ecclesiological theory and ecclesial reality, both on the larger and the local scale. Precisely in this last area, all the tensions already mentioned between historical, dogmatic, and practical issues make themselves acutely felt. Let me first point to some of the issues arising in an historical perspective. As a matter of historical fact, at least some Reformed churches have tended from the seventeenth century onwards to disagree and sometimes also to divide—most frequently (though not only) on questions of doctrine (i.e., in the broadest sense, questions of the interpretation, proclamation, and implications of the Word, but also more specifically of the inspiration, authority, and scope of scripture), of the sacraments (both Baptism and the Lord’s Supper), and of church order (Episcopacy, Presbyterianism/synodal church government, Congregationalism; more recently the ordination of women) or ethical issues of social, political, and economic responsibility. This may be taken as showing just how seriously our Reformed tradition takes the ecclesial marks of Word, sacrament and discipline— but in ways that have led and sometimes still lead to different and not infrequently mutually exclusive conclusions. This, in turn, raises the question of the pure preaching of the Word—both as an issue in itself and in respect of its viability as a criterion of what our Reformers called ‘a true face of a church.’ The roots of this tendency may lie even earlier and reflect, in particular, a contrast with the pattern in Lutheranism, which in spite of all internal conflicts generally succeeded in remaining much more homogeneous than the Reformed churches. One may think here of: 1. the beginnings of the Swiss Reformation and the characteristic features of its essentially local (or at most provincial) city and cantonal decisions to reform the church; 2. the subsequent spreading of the Reformed churches to develop and embrace differing ethnic and national forms in different parts of Eastern and Western Europe; 3. what may perhaps be seen as specific and varied patterns of Reformed enculturation of the gospel.

Such observations can be added to ad libitum.

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One may ask, for instance: Has a certain sturdy independence (to put it positively—more negative descriptions have also been used) played a conditioning role in the Reformed tradition from the beginning? Can we also see analogies in later centuries—for example, in the Scottish Presbyterian struggle against episcopacy, in English Puritanism and the emergence within it of independent Congregationalism with its ‘local church’ ecclesiology, in New England Calvinism, in the Dutch Reformed history in South Africa, in the multifarious Reformed churches in countries, such as South Korea or Indonesia? Further and perhaps more importantly: Might a certain tendency of this kind overshadow any sense of the transcultural unity of the church and weaken the effectiveness and bite of the appeal to the universal application of the pure preaching of the Word as the key to the unity of the church? It may also be observed that the Reformed tradition in theology is not only diverse in itself; it is marked to the present by different and often highly ambivalent relationships to its own earlier history, most notably to the profiled predestinarian theology of Reformed orthodoxy in the later sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. On the other hand, it is undeniable that in the last century and a half, a powerful counter-movement has developed within as well as outside of the Reformed family of churches. We may think here of: 1. the widespread movement since the nineteenth century towards church unions and the formation of united/uniting churches, sometimes with churches from outside the Reformed tradition; 2. the rise and unification of Reformed worldwide confessional organizations such as the World Alliance of Reformed Churches; 3. the entire canvas of the modern ecumenical movement, in which representatives of Reformed churches have played a significant active role.

In view of our topic here, the question can, of course, be asked whether or to which extent the classic Reformed concern for the pure preaching of the Word in the sense of the Reformation has been, is at present, or will remain a main motive in this more unifying history. Or, to frame the question less vaguely (or even negatively): What form does the commitment to pure preaching of the Word take in this increasingly organizationally unifying context? Or again: Has the classical understanding been modified in the face of the demands and tasks of this new ecclesial challenge? To put it very bluntly: What is the message we expect to hear from ‘the pure preaching of the Word’?

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This, in turn, leads from the historical and phenomenological perspective to the specifically theological and dogmatic issue of what is meant by appealing to or searching after the pure preaching of the Word. However, this question, too, can be approached historically at first: for the Reformation that was generally clear: The Word was to be heard in the scriptures of the Old and New Testaments, which were seen as witness and criterion not only of true teaching but also, particularly for the Reformed churches, of proper church order. In Reformed orthodoxy, this found expression in a very clear cut systematic understanding of the inspiration, authority, sufficiency, clarity, and self-evidence of the Bible as the Word of God. With all respect for the bold, clear-cut profile of this understanding, almost five centuries of cultural, social, and intellectual change, as well as of specifically ecclesiastical and theological history, and the development of critical historical and literary study of the biblical documents have combined to distance most of us from this appealingly, but deceptively simple, dogmatic and hermeneutical clarity. As this history, too, is reflected in the diversity and sometimes disagreement in the Reformed tradition, it would seem to invite further common reflection on what we mean or intend by the pure preaching of the Word—and what that implies for our understanding of the unity of the church. In at least two other respects bearing on this question, our situation is very different from that of the Reformers: The cultural setting in which the Reformers of the sixteenth century could appeal to the authority of the Bible in a fresh and radical way, now set critically over against the traditions, teaching, and institutions of the established medieval church and affirmed at the same time to represent truth over against Roman falsehood and distortion of the Word of God, is scarcely ours today. Yet just that critical and frequently polemical note was a significant element in the entire Reformation appeal to the purity of the Word and its preaching. While we may still find it possible to maintain and uphold elements of that negative critique of Roman Catholicism and its ecclesiological self-understanding, it is less easy to affirm with conviction that every aspect of the Reformed alternative offers a superior option, whether in respect of the unity of the church, of the quality of biblical understanding and biblical exegesis, or of the purity of preaching of the Word of God. The sixteenth century brought an epochal upheaval in literacy, in preaching, and in a fresh discovery of the scriptures as the Word of

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God. There was a vivid sense of recovery of forgotten truth, of liberation from enslavement to received tradition, of the immediate authority of the divine message and doctrine with all the conflict and resistance that also demanded. The cultural shift involved here included, but was not limited to, the printing and reading of the Bible, of commentaries, and of other theological works. This all gave a new meaning and resonance to the idea of the Word read, heard, and preached as the source of truth and light. How far and in what ways does the hearing, reading, and preaching of the Word of God have a similar significant resonance today? To make matters more complicated, there is the additional question of the immediate cultural context in which the appeal to the pure preaching of the Word or to the authority of the scriptures is made. This may be, for instance, an inner-churchly (denominational or ecumenical) context in which the priority and authority of the biblical witness is generally accepted as a fundamental reference matrix for theological discourse. But the environment may also be very different in climate and presuppositions. To name only the two instances probably most apparent to us here: 1. On the one hand, we see nations and societies in Europe, which, for various reasons, have become increasingly post-Christian, in which the influence of the churches has slowly but steadily shrunk, and in which consequently the Bible has for very many (if not most) become a closed and unknown book, making any appeal to its authority or relevance largely ineffective, at least in terms of practical and convincing communication (which is, of course, to be distinguished from the question of truth or authority, but thereby does not become irrelevant to it); 2. On the other hand, there is the context common in parts of the Third World, where the surrounding culture is characterized by non-Christian and non-biblical, religious and cultural traditions.

Most of our churches and academic communities today are operating in one or the other of these last two situations. The oases of the Christian academy or church are surrounded, not perhaps by deserts, but, at any rate, by other pastures with other shepherds and other sources of cultural, intellectual, and spiritual nourishment. It can rightly be replied that none of this, especially the above paragraphs on the issue of the immediate cultural context, is new. Indeed, it is not. What has been outlined above has been part of the situation of Christian theology for more than a century. To mention only three examples:

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alasdair heron 1. It was to this kind of challenge that liberal theology sought to respond a century and more ago. 2. It was in reaction to liberal theology that dialectical theology exploded on to the scene almost ninety years ago. 3. It was in response to both that H. Richard Niebuhr wrote Christ and Culture over fifty years ago (to name only one prominent Reformed mediator between these contrapuntal approaches).

It is my impression, however, that the paradigmatic choices and options involved in these and similar positions and responses have not lost their relevance, attraction, or advocates in the intervening decades. That is, I suspect, because the concerns, interests, and challenges they represent are so deeply interwoven in the fabric of modern culture that they cannot but surface ever and again. Yet, have we not missed something out here? Something of direct importance and relevance for the question this paper is supposed to be addressing? Has the last century not also seen a quite specific form of Reformed witness in confrontation with challenges facing and threatening the church? The classical expression of that witness also addresses more radically than this paper has yet done the question of the identity of the Word of God, and with it, of the identity and calling of the church. Its radical nature can perhaps be best appreciated when it is set against the background of the issues that have so far occupied this paper: 1. “Jesus Christ, as he is attested for us in Holy Scripture, is the one Word of God which we have to hear and which we have to trust and obey in life and in death.” 2. “The Christian Church is the congregation of the brethren in which Jesus Christ acts presently as the Lord in Word and Sacrament through the Holy Spirit. As the Church of pardoned sinners, it has to testify in the midst of a sinful world, with its faith as with its obedience, with its message as with its order, that it is solely his property, and that it lives and wants to live solely from his comfort and from his direction in the expectation of his appearance.”1

Of course, Barmen does not solve all other problems, nor should we forget that the German Confessing Church, for all the courageous loyalty of its witness, signally failed to preserve the Protestant church in Germany as a whole from subservience to the goals of Hitler’s Third Reich. Nevertheless, the voice speaking in Barmen comes closer to

1

Theological Declaration of Barmen, §§ 1; 3.

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addressing the theme of this paper than most other voices do. Whether that voice tends to gather or divide the church, indeed, whether it serves to unite or to purge the Christian community, remains a further question.

CHAPTER SEVEN

A BIBLICAL THEOLOGICAL HERMENEUTICS, THE PURE PREACHING OF THE WORD OF GOD, AND THE UNITY OF THE CHURCH Seung-Goo Lee

In his presentation on the relationship between the unity of the church and the pure preaching of the Word of God, Professor Heron seriously makes us rethink “what we mean or intend by the pure preaching of the Word—and what that implies for our understanding of the unity of the church.” In this connection, I would like to extend the main thesis a little bit in my own way. This may be understood as the way in which I interpret the term ‘the pure preaching of the Word,’ and its implication for my understanding of the unity of the church.

Formal Principle: Biblical Theological Hermeneutics In my contribution to Religion without Ulterior Motive, I make a plea for ‘biblical theology’ to be faithful to sola scriptura and that tota scriptura be considered as the only acceptable way of doing theology.1 My argument is that the church loses her real unity if she does not keep to the scriptures the way they are interpreted. Those who do not agree with my approach will contend that it is precisely my option for only one hermeneutical model which leads to a rigid reading of the scriptures and will lead to conflicts in the church with those who do not agree. They will say that my rigid understanding of sola scriptura will lead to disunity within the church because it does not leave enough room for various readings of the scriptures. And they might also contend that this rigid hermeneutical approach is one of the causes of the many divisions within Korean churches. Perhaps this is one of reasons 1 Seung-Goo Lee, “Proposal for an Apostolic, Biblical, Eschatological Theology: From a Korean Context,” in Religion without Ulterior Motive, ed. E.A.J.G. Van der Borght (Leiden & Boston: Brill, 2006), esp. 164–68.

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why Heron suggests that we rethink the relationship between ‘the pure preaching of the Word’ and the unity of the church. To counter such a charge, I would argue that what I mean by ‘biblical theological hermeneutics’ is that the scriptures be interpreted according to the intention of the text of the scriptures, and that due to the attempt to respect the intention of the text of the scriptures, every interpretation of the text should be respected. My position is close to the position of finding the authorial intention of the scriptures by means of finding the intention of the text. Therefore, I am only excluding the interpretations of the scriptures that do not respect the authorial intention of the text. I am aware that this is a very challenging position to hold in this postmodern era. At the same time, I do not disregard the human weakness in our interpretation of the scriptures. I merely would like to advocate both hermeneutical modesty (that is, not asserting that our own interpretation is the only right interpretation of the scriptures) and hermeneutical confidence (that is, we can still interpret the text in the proper way, so that we can find the authorial intention of the text).2 Hence, hermeneutical diversity may be permitted insofar as each interpretation allows for the authorial intention of the text to be transmitted to us. In this sense, I am not happy with the term ‘rigid’ when it is applied to interpretations that try to be faithful to the scriptures. To my mind, rigid interpretations of the scriptures would have the following characteristics: (1) if a theology is not biblically oriented, that is, if one’s theology does not give the scriptures the final authority at every point of discussion; (2) if one’s interpretation does not allow for reading the authorial intention of the text of the scriptures; (3) if one’s interpretation does not respect what is clearly written in the text itself; (4) if one’s interpretation does not respect the historicity of the facts in the text that are described as happening in time and space; and (5) if one’s interpretation does not allow for a responsible harmonization of the scriptures, so that it only emphasizes tensions and apparent contradictions between one text and another. In short, those interpretations of the scriptures that are not faithful to the principles of sola scriptura and tota scriptura, in fact, are rigid interpretations of the scriptures. It seems to me that such interpretations lead us to such

2 Cf. Kevin J. Vanhoozer, Is There a Meaning in the Text (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1998). See esp. the concluding chapter.

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confused thoughts and theology that they will result in a disunity of the church because such interpretations do not give the final authority to the scriptures (against the principle of sola scriptura) and do not readily recognize analogia scriptura (against the principle of tota scriptura). Such rigid interpretations, it seems to me, should not be allowed in the Christian community. Insofar as one holds a hermeneutical position which does not have these characteristics, however, I think one has one’s own right to have one’s own position in the interpretation of the scriptures in the church. For until the day when we can clearly see everything as seeing each other face to face (I Cor. 13:12), within the community of the believers our interpretation of the scriptures may be diverse. At the end of the day, it will become clear whose interpretation of the scriptures will be the right one. Until that day, all of us merely try to do our best to provide the most suitable interpretation of the scriptures for the edification (‘up-building’) of the one, holy, and catholic church. Insofar as one is trying to be faithful to the intention of the scriptures while accepting the final authority of the scriptures, hermeneutical differences should not be a cause or rather an excuse for the division of the church. Such a division of the church based on the hermeneutical differences among people who accept the inspiration and the high authority of the scriptures cannot be justified in any sense of the word. Within the community of people who hold a high view of the scriptures, as in the case of the Reformed community in the past, there may be various interpretations of the scriptures. Differences of opinion about the question of the millennium may be a good case in point. One may have a pre-millennial position (as do G.E. Ladd and Robert H. Mounce), a post-millennial position (as does Loraine Boettner), or an amillennial position (as held by Anthony A. Hoekema and Philip Hughes), as long as one does not hold a dispensational pre-millennial position that tries to interpret the scriptures too literally. In the end, one of these interpretations will be revealed as being the right one, but until then we should allow a diversity of interpretations within the Christian church. Such a hermeneutical diversity within the Christian community is an inevitable aspect of our being and living here on earth as limited human beings. Each of us should respect other people’s interpretations of the scriptures, insofar as those other interpretations try to be faithful to the authorial intention of the scriptures. That is the way in which we recognize that all of us, who have very diverse interpretations of the

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scriptures, belong to the one, holy, and catholic church. For example, Martin Luther, John Calvin, Thomas Cartwright, and John Wesley are all in this one, holy, and catholic church, even though their interpretations of the scriptures are somewhat (or sometimes contrastingly) different in many ways. The same may be said in relation to Cornelius Van Til (a Dutch Reformed), J.I. Packer (an Anglican), and Howard Snyder (an American Baptist). Insofar as someone tries to interpret the scriptures in a way in which both the divine author and the human author of the text are respected, we should say that that person is in this community of believers. So far, I have discussed the possibility of hermeneutical diversity within the Christian community. According to my argument, the interpretations of the scriptures that are allowable within the Christian community should respect the principle of sola scriptura (that is, giving the final authority to the scriptures in our whole theological discussion) and the principle of tota scriptura (that is, giving respect to every aspect of the scriptures). Insofar as the principles of sola scriptura and of tota scriptura are readily accepted, a hermeneutical diversity should be recognized, but there must be a place for responsible harmonization of the scriptures.3 Formally, this is the necessary condition for one’s being in the one, holy, and catholic church.

Material Principle: Justification by Faith Alone Materially, one should be faithful to the biblical teaching of justification by faith alone in order to be in the one, holy, and catholic church. As far as the term ‘justification by faith’ is concerned, almost everyone would readily accept this term. Even the Roman Catholic theologians would welcome and accept it. Even during the times of Reformation, this was the case,4 and we can also clearly see this in the recent agree-

3 For a similar view about the responsible harmonization of the scriptures, see C. Blomberg, “The Legitimacy and Limits of Harmonization,” in Hermeneutics, Authority, and Canon, eds. D.A. Carson and J.D. Woodbridge (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1986), 135–74; and David Wenham, “Unity and Diversity in the New Testament,” in G.E. Ladd, A Theology of the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993), 684–719, esp. 718. 4 See John Calvin, The Institutes of the Christian Religion, trans. Ford Lewis Battles (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1960), III. xi. 19: “They [the Roman Catholics] dare not deny that man is justified by faith because it recurs so often in Scripture.”

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ment on justification between the Roman Catholics and the Lutherans.5 For example, in article 15 of the joint declaration it reads as follows: Together we confess: By grace alone, in faith in Christ’s saving work and not because of any merit on our part, we are accepted by God and receive the Holy Spirit, who renews our hearts while equipping and calling us to good works.6

However, the Roman Catholics do not want to accept the term ‘alone,’ both then (during the time of Reformation) and now. This is the reason why I employ the controversial and, indeed, extra-biblical term ‘alone’—to clarify the Reformation emphasis. When we bear in mind the history of the theological discussions about the salvation of human beings, we cannot help but point out that this controversial term ‘alone’ should be there. Luther and Calvin, following Luther, were adamant on this point.7 According to them, if we can be justified by both faith and works, then there would be no chance to be saved and therefore there would be no gospel in the real sense of the word. In fact, when Luther and Calvin stated that the pure—right—preaching of the word of God was one of the marks of the true church,8 what they had in mind was Christian teaching—especially including the doctrine of the justification by faith alone. It is true that for them and those who accept the Reformation teaching on justification, those who are justified by faith alone would do their best to live the life of sanctification throughout their lives. For Calvin, justification by faith alone “is no carnal freedom, which would draw us away from the observance of the law, incite us to license in all things, and let our concupiscence play the wanton as if locks were broken or reins slackened.”9 On the contrary, for Calvin, “true faith manifests itself in good works. Absence of the latter denotes absence of the former.”10 The sanctification was a necessary

5 Cf. “Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification by the Lutheran World Federation and the Catholic Church,” http://www.vatican.va/roman_curia/pontifical_ councils/chrstuni/documents/rc_pc_chrstuni_doc_31101999_cath-luth-joint-declaration_en.html#_ftnref1. See also Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification: A Commentary by the Institute of Ecumenical Research (Hong Kong: Clear-Cut, 1997). 6 “Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification by the Lutheran World Federation and the Catholic Church,” article 15. 7 Cf. Calvin, Institutes, III. xi. 19 (vol. 1: 749–49). 8 Cf. Augsburg Confession, article 7; Calvin, Institutes, IV. 1. 9 (vol. 2: 1023); IV. 1. 10 (vol. 2: 1024); IV. 1. 12 (vol. 2: 1025). 9 Calvin, Institutes, III. xvii. 1 (vol. 1: 803f.). 10 Geoffrey W. Bromiley’s summary of Calvin’s position in his Historical Theology: An Introduction (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1978), 235f.

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result of one’s being justified by faith alone; the sanctified lives are the fruits of the justification by faith alone.11 For the Reformers, there is no reason to worry about the possibility of letting the true believers be lost in their ways of life that do not respect the will of God concerning their life after the justification. For them, those who are justified are inevitably eager to live their lives in the way God wanted. They never doubt this for a moment. Therefore, what was important to them was to make it clear that the initial way of being justified by God and the way God regards them and their actions, that both these ways be righteous. To quote Calvin: Therefore, as we ourselves, when we have engrafted in Christ, are righteous in God’s sight because our iniquities are covered by Christ’s sinlessness, so our works are righteous and are thus regarded because whatever fault is otherwise in them is buried in Christ’s purity, and is not charged to our account.12

This is the reason why Calvin attaches so much importance to the point of someone being justified by faith alone. To date, this is one of the most important points to be emphasized in the Christian community. The pure preaching of the pure Word of God in relation to the doctrine of ‘justification by faith alone’ is still one of the most important marks of the one, holy, and catholic church.

Conclusion We would like to emphasize the point that, in fact, these two aspects of the Reformation principles are closely connected. The justification by faith alone which results in a life of sanctification is the doctrine that we can learn only from the scriptures that are interpreted in a way in which the authorial intention of the scriptures is respected. In this sense, the Reformation principle can be designated as the scriptural principle. Insofar as one is faithful to such a scriptural principle, one is contributing to the unity of the church. Therefore, insofar as one is not faithful to this scriptural principle, one is contributing to the disunity of the church. One is either for the unity or for the disunity of the church—there is no middle ground.

11 12

Cf. Calvin, Institutes, III. xvi. 1 (vol. 1: 797f.). Calvin, Institutes, III. xvii. 10 (vol. 1: 813).

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE MEDIUM AND THE MESSAGE SOLA SCRIPTURA AND (DIS)UNITY IN THE REFORMED TRADITION Dora Bernhardt

Introduction “The medium is the message”—so goes Marshall McLuhan’s famous maxim. What exactly does this mean, though? For example, if writing is a medium—and McLuhan leaves no doubt about that—would that mean that ‘Scriptura,’ God’s written Word, bears a message that by its character is defined as written, as opposed to spoken communication? To frame the same question in relation to the topic of this conference, could there be a relationship between the principle of sola scriptura and some of the reasons why the Reformed tradition has become so fragmented over centuries past? Some historians and sociologists have, of course, argued for a long time that the Reformation, by its insistence on the priority of vernacular languages over Latin and by using the printing press to distribute scriptures, made some kind of division into one of its defining characteristics. As Eisenstein puts it, “[o]nce a vernacular version was officially authorized, the Bible was ‘nationalized,’ so to speak, in a way that divided Protestant churches and reinforced extant linguistic frontiers”; she even asserts that “the desire to spread glad tidings, when implemented by print, contributed to the fragmentation of Christendom.”1 It has to be admitted, though, that historians are also aware of the complex nature of cultural phenomena and thus some scholars argue that—in a sense different from that examined by Eisenstein—in

1 Elizabeth L. Eisenstein, The Printing Revolution in Early Modern Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 181, 184.

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fact, the Reformation had a uniting effect on those who accepted its teachings.2 However, the angle from which I would like to approach the issue of writing/print and the Reformation in this paper is not that of a historian or sociologist, but rather that of the media scholar. To be precise, I would like to draw on the ideas of two thinkers: both of them Christians, and both deeply interested in the differences between what one of them calls the ‘psychodynamics’ of the written (or rather printed) and the spoken word. I realize that for theologians this is an unusual approach to our subject. However, I hope to show that unusual though it may be, paying more attention to the medium of information and/or communication may be one of the ways in which theological thinking can try new approaches and gain new insights in the 21st century. In the following, then, I will examine the thought of Walter Ong and Jacques Ellul to see if they hold some clues to the many questions surrounding the perceived disunity of the Reformed tradition. My thesis is that—among many other and possibly more decisive factors—the Protestant, but especially Reformed insistence on assigning the written Word of God the main authority in matters of faith, has facilitated rather than hindered the disunity of the Reformed tradition. To prove my thesis, I will first briefly examine the role of scripture in the different Protestant traditions. Then I will highlight some of Walter Ong and Jacques Ellul’s ideas on the effects of the written word to prove that a tendency to division is one of the psychodynamics that can be associated with reading, especially in comparison with listening.

Some Notes on the Significance of Sola Scriptura in the Protestant Tradition In this section, I would like to argue that although sola scriptura may be regarded as the common denominator among Protestants, the role assigned to God’s written Word is more decisive in the Reformed than in the Lutheran or Anglican tradition (in this paper I will ignore both the Catholic and other non-mainline Protestant traditions. Compari-

2 See, for example, Peter Rietbergen on how printing contributed to standardization and uniformity of culture and thought in Peter Rietbergen, Europe, a Cultural History (London and New York: Routledge, 2004), 232.

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son of the Catholic and Protestant traditions from the medium point of view would require much more than a short article. As for the smaller Protestant traditions, these could be shown to be as much or even more divided than the Reformed tradition). As we well know, the principle of sola scriptura expresses the Reformers’3 insistence on the sufficiency of God’s Word as the final authority in matters of faith, in contrast with the often questionable and corrupt authority of the church of the time. It is a less well-known fact, however, that Luther himself often talked about the primacy of the spoken over the written word. Not only is this conviction expressed by his oftquoted metaphor of the hurch as Mundhaus rather than Federhaus, but also by his deeply held theological insight that it is God’s spoken word which accomplishes his purpose in justifying sinners. I will not go into detail here regarding Luther’s convictions about the spoken Word—for lack of space and also because much has already been written on this topic, among others by Gerhard Ebeling, who stresses the significance of the ‘Word-event’ in Luther’s thought. My main point is that for Luther it was not the medium of writing that received the emphasis in his view of scripture; on the contrary, much more than any other Reformer, he insisted on the primacy of the medium of speech and the spoken word as expressive of what God’s Word is about: his ever actual address. Calvin, on the other hand, does not seem to have attributed such significance to a distinction between the spoken and the written Word. For him, scriptura was to be studied carefully and, with the aid of the Holy Spirit, God’s Word would accomplish its purpose by faith and reason working in tandem. No doubt, there is less of Luther’s existential perception of the spoken word in Calvin, and more of the careful exetegical and systematic theological work which was only possible because the Word was available in writing. As O’Leary articulates the difference, “Luther seeks to overcome the calm objectivity of the sapiential vision, by recalling it to its existential origins. A Lutheran sapiential vision of creation and salvation history would hang on the heard Word of God, and could not take form autonomously. . . . Luther reminds theology that its theme is outside it, in the freedom of God’s

3 Scholars are not in agreement over when and by whom the principle was first articulated, but it is not the purpose of this paper to investigate that issue.

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Word, which is always actualized in new ways by the Spirit.”4 For Calvin, God’s Word is closely bound to scripture; in his often quoted words, believers should accord to the written Word of God “the full authority which they ought to possess . . . as directly as if God had been heard giving utterance to them.”5 It has to be granted that similar views were also expressed by Lutheran theologians. For example, Johannes Quenstedt, one of the leading figures of Lutheran orthodoxy in the 17th century, commented that “the act of writing, just as the act of preaching, is incidental to the Word of God and is only an external accident (pathos) of the Word, an auxiliary mode of proclaiming and communicating the Word, which does not alter the essence of the divine Word.”6 At the peril of generalization, it can be said that the medium of writing (or print) is not regarded as bearing any importance in terms of the ‘message’ in the Protestant tradition. However, the liturgy and the sacraments clearly retained a stronger role in the Lutheran and Anglican traditions. Of course, both the liturgy and the Eucharist are mediated by and thus closely associated with the spoken word, even though they rely on written formulae. Catherine Pickstock, in her book on the philosophy of liturgy, defines liturgy as written text with oral features which “gives rise to a peculiarly Christian negotiation of the ‘duality’ of orality and writing itself.”7 A more substantive role assigned to liturgy may thus strengthen the role of the spoken Word in the Anglican and Lutheran churches. One might then argue that it has been in the Reformed tradition that the written Word of God has acted as the most—or even only— decisive theological medium. What the consequences might have been for the (dis)unity of the church is what I would like to look at in the following, as I examine some of the dynamics of the written word.

4 Joseph O’Leary, “Language in Luther’s Reformation Breakthrough,” Australian EJournal of Theology 8 (2006), 29. http://dlibrary.acu.edu.au/research/theology/ejournal/aejt_8/luther.htm. 5 John Calvin, Institutes 1.7.1. trans. Henry Beveridge. http://www.reformed.org/ master/index.html?mainframe=/books/institutes/. 6 Quoted by O’Leary, “Language,” 35. 7 Catherine Pickstock, After Writing: On the Liturgical Consummation of Philosophy (Oxford: Blackwell, 1998), 216.

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Walter Ong on the Media of Speaking and Writing and on (Dis)unity Walter Ong’s writings on what today sometimes is called ‘media ecology’ encompass an amazingly wide range of issues. According to Jeet Heer, “before interdisciplinary became a trendy scholarly word,” McLuhan, Ong, and their friends were engaged in interdisciplinary thinking and “Ong, in particular, was learned in an impressive range of fields, including intellectual history, literary theory, psychology, and evolutionary biology.”8 It is perhaps this width as well as the pioneering nature of Ong’s thought that makes him relatively little known among scholars, though I agree with Lance Strate who sees Ong’s work “as a rich resource that could still be fruitfully mined and put to further use by other scholars.”9 Out of Ong’s many faceted research, in this section I shall briefly reflect on some issues discussed by Ong that implicitly bear on our topic of the written word and (dis)unity. How can Ong’s theories on the (human) spoken and written word apply to discussing God’s Word, though? That is a question that can be asked with good reason. Both as a scholar and a priest, Walter Ong is also aware of the complex nature of the issue when talking about God’s Word. Thus, in the book where he discusses the religious dimensions of his orality-literacy theories, The Presence of the Word, he makes it clear that “God’s Word is not man’s word. . . . And yet, man must think of God’s word in accordance with what he can make of the word in his own life, even though at the same time he is aware that God’s Word transcends his own, for God’s word is God’s word, not a projected visual image.”10 That is the basis on which I, too, wish to look at the implications of Ong’s ideas for the (dis)unity of the church. We have to note, though, that unity and disunity are not categories that Ong makes use of when discussing what he calls the ‘psychodynamics’ of speaking and writing. The two categories that he often does use, and which are, he believes, intrinsically related to the nature of orality and literacy are ‘agonistic’ and ‘irenic.’ (Although the ‘orality-literacy’ distinction is wider and more complex than a simple 8 Jeet Heer, “From Homer to Hip-Hop,” Books & Culture (2004). http://www.ctlibrary.com/bc/2004/julaug/20.34.html. 9 Lance Strate, “Introduction” in Thomas J. Farrell and Paul Soukup, eds. An Ong Reader: Challenges for Further Inquiry (Creskill: Hampton Press, 2002), ix. 10 Walter Ong, The Presence of the Word (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1967), 321.

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distinction between ‘speaking’ and ‘writing’ or the ‘spoken’ and the ‘written word’; to simplify matters here I shall be using the two interchangeably.)

‘Agonistic’ and ‘Irenic’ When describing the psycyodynamics of orality, one of the characteristics that Ong underlines is that orally based thought and expression are agonistic by their nature; that is, prone to combat: “Highly oral cultures, across the globe, often cultivate combative lifestyles, particularly in verbal performance. . . . A principle function of proverbs in oral cultures is formalized polemic: one uses proverbs for intellectual dueling.”11 Neither is it only proverbs or riddles that are verbal ‘genres’ of this kind of ‘dueling,’ according to Ong, oral cultures also use narrative as the form which, in the absence of abstract analytical categories for the storing of information, are best able to fulfill this purpose. But, “since narrative is normally based on agonistic, antipathetic situations, this procedure throws even neutral material into an agonistic framework.”12 In our context, what is important to grasp is that, paradoxically, ‘agonistic’ in the Ongian sense is not something negative; rather, it has to do with real personal engagement as opposed to what Ong calls the ‘irenic’ way of life practiced in literate communities, where one is alone with the written text, with no partner to immediately discuss and debate with. “Writing fosters abstractions that disengage knowledge from the arena where human beings struggle with one another,” says Ong, “it separates the knower from the known.”13 Although in Orality and Literacy Ong does not use the term ‘irenic,’ in his later book, Fighting for Life: Contest, Sexuality, and Consciousness, it is the same ‘disengaged’ mindset that he regards as ‘irenic’ (conducive to peace), and about which he complains that in our time we have become “unabashed irenicists.”14 Why is that a problem? As he

11 Walter Ong, “The Agonistic Base of Scientifically Abstract Thought,” in Farrel and Soukup, An Ong Reader: Challenges for Further Inquiry (Cresskill: Hapton Press, 2002), 481. 12 Ong, “The Agonistic Base,” 483. 13 Ong, Orality and Literacy, 43. 14 Walter Ong, Fighting for Life: Contest, Sexuality, and Consciousness. (Ithaca: Cornell UP, 1981), 24.

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narrates the history of the orally based, agonistic mindset, Ong notes that “the agonistic dynamics of oral thought processes and expressions have been central to the development of western culture, where they were institutionalized by the ‘art’ of rhetoric, and by the related dialectic of Socrates and Plato, which furnished agonistic oral verbalization with a scientific base worked out with the help of writing.”15 According to Ong, the significance of rhetoric persisted right through the Middle Ages: “Medieval universities remained basically oral and deeply agonistic in lifestyle and intellectual style. . . . St. Thomas Aquinas’ Summa Theologiae proceeds, question after question, from opposition (objections) to his own position, and back to the opposition or objections again.”16 However, with the appearance and scholarly activity of certain humanist scholars, a breach occured in this tradition of orally based rhetoric and dialogue based reasoning. Of these scholars, it is Peter Ramus to whom Ong pays peculiar attention.

Ong on the Influence of Ramus Walter Ong’s book on Peter Ramus, Ramus and the End of Dialogue, was his first scholarly work, and it is a book which is quoted by scholars to the present day. To summarize such an exhaustive range of data and thoroughgoing analysis as the book contains would be impossible in the confines of an article. Thus, I will only refer to a selection of Ong’s insights about Peter Ramus and his influence on Protestant thought. According to Ong, Ramus (1515–1572) did not achieve anything really new in philosophy or logic; his aim was rather pedagogical: how to present material in a way that makes it the easiest for students to comprehend. It was to this end that he introduced ‘method,’ one element of which was the dissecting of concepts into dichotomies. To illustrate his method, Ramus often used diagrams. Thus, Ong notes, in its 16th century context the headway made by Ramism was closely connected to print: “Ramism is above all, although not exclusively, a manifestation of the subtle and apparently irresistible shift sacrificing auditory oriented concepts for visually oriented ones.”17 Ramus’ thought and 15 16 17

Ong, Orality and Literacy, 45. Ong, Fighting for Life, 482. Farrel and Soukup, An Ong Reader, 235.

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method was thus definitely one step forward on the way to the ‘spatialization of knowledge’ associated by Ong with the written, and especially the printed, word. Interesting for our purposes is the fact that Ramus was a convert to the Reformation from Catholicism (in fact, he was one of the most famous victims of the St. Bartholomew’s Day massacre) and there is evidence that, although he only wrote one book on topics theological, his use of ‘method’ had considerable influence on English and American Puritans.18 In fact, when discussing the mechanical nature of scholastic ‘physics,’ Ong goes so far as to comment that “the rigidity in Ramist rhetorical theory, the counterpart of the rigidity in Ramist dialectic, and the quality that helps produce the Puritan plain style have their roots here.”19 ‘Puritan plain style,’ one might think, could be interpreted positively; however, the word ‘rigidity’ betrays that what Ong associates with ‘plain style’ refers to a kind of inflexibility, to something rather mechanical. In Ong’s mind, then, Ramism as well as ‘Puritan plain style’ is closely related to what he calls “a widespread and mysterious shift from the audile to the visile in the whole way of thinking about cognition and the nature of man. At the end of this shift, by the eighteenth century, God will become in the mind of many curiously mute, and by that fact depersonalized . . . a celestial architect whose laws concern not the human consciousness but the ranging of objects in space.”20 This kind of depersonalization, whether of God or of ideas which are now represented not by voice but as objects in/on space, does not lend itself to ‘contest’ or dialogue any longer. According to Catherine Pickstock, “with Ramism and later Cartesianism . . . space becomes a pseudo-eternity which . . . is fully comprehensible to the human gaze.”21 Scripture, too, might thus appear more ‘comprehensible’ to the reader and whoever comprehends it differently is easily regarded as a dissident. It has to be noted that Ong praises Protestantism for keeping a vestige of the significance of the oral Word by its emphasis on preaching. In his work on Ramus, however, he draws attention to the fact that

18 See, for example, Keith L. Sprunger, “Ames, Ramus, and the Method of Puritan Theology,” The Harvard Theological Review 59 (1966), 133–151. 19 Farrel and Soukup, An Ong Reader, 223. 20 Farrel and Soukup, An Ong Reader, 234. 21 Pickstock, After Writing, 48.

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(oral) teaching (though he does not mention preaching)—as opposed to the oral debate practiced earlier at universities—reduces “the dialogue of dialectic to a monologue,”22 implying that in lecture style teaching there might not be room left for authentic discussion. To sum up: though Ong makes no clean-cut value judgments, for him it is the relationship based, agonistic, dialogical way of oral communication that is our primary and ‘natural’ human way of thinking and reasoning. Though the written and the printed word are necessary to preserve knowledge, when they become the main sources of information and communication, they bring about a subtle change in our ways of learning and knowing: these become less relational—even if relational implies agonistic attitudes—but more individualistic, mechanical, and even rigid.

A Theology of Hearing versus Seeing in the Thought of Jacques Ellul Jacques Ellul was a French thinker and sociologist of the Reformed faith who, in his wide ranging oeuvre, took up many issues of both a sociological and a theological nature. He is a controversial writer who, because of his often radical ideas, has been regarded by many as a prophet rather than a scholar. His theological convictions are deeply rooted in his biblical Protestant faith, while his view of scripture and his method of hermeneutics were influenced by Karl Barth. The destructive role of technique/technology is one of the recurring— and most controversial—themes in his writings, while in one of his late works, The Humiliation of the Word, it is the relationship between vision and hearingand image and sound that receives the focus of his attention. Ellul’s main attack in this work is on images, but he also contends that when it is written down, the word, though still more than just an image, is “diluted, weaker, and no longer backed up by a person’s whole being.”23 Many of Ellul’s insights in The Humiliation of the Word show a remarkable affinity with Walter Ong’s concerns. However, unlike Ong—for whom it is clear that “because of its impermanence, the spoken word needs supplementing. Writing . . . supplemented it while at the same time denaturing

22 23

Farrel and Soukup, An Ong Reader, 236. Jacques Ellul, The Humiliation of the Word (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1985), 45.

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it”24—Ellul insists on the theological/ethical priority of hearing/speech over seeing/sight. For him, it is spoken language that is the basis of human specificity and which guarantees human freedom. Why is the spoken word superior to writing? “Language deals with connotations and overtones,” says Ellul, and “this complex web is a marvel which is never the same, not for me at different points in time nor for another person. The spoken Word puts the web in motion so that waves sweep through it and cause lights to flicker. The waves induce vibrations that are different for the other person and for me. The word is uncertain. Discourse is ambiguos and often ambivalent.”25 Sight, on the other hand—though, as all the senses, also God’s gift to humans—can easily become a means of temptation to power and control. According to Ellul, “the Bible closely and explicitely links coveteousness to sight”26 and he also makes the connection that we have seen Ong make between space and sight/writing. Whereas the spoken word happens in time and thus requires listening anew each time as it cannot be repeated in the same way twice, the written word ‘occupies’ space; it is outside of time, remains the same when repeated, and thus does not require real listening and response. Images are “at best . . . accessories that have no meaning apart from the explanations that accompany them,”27 says Ellul. Hearing and speech, however, are always associated with presence; they are “something alive, and never an object. . . . Speech is something immediate and can never be manipulated.”28 Ellul—he was, at one point in his life, an adherent of Marxist ideology—uses dialectics in his reasoning. So it will not come as a surprise that for him discord is not something negative, but a positive driving force. Thus, he credits speech with facilitating real discourse, while the image “tries to pass itself off as truth.” That is why, he concludes, “we must oppose triumphant methods, the elimination of ambiguities, and the resultant foreclosure of possibilities for the truth (which slips in through the gaps of coherent discourse).”29 .

24 25 26 27 28 29

Ong, The Presence of the Word, 321. Ellul, The Humiliation of the Word, 18. Ellul, The Humiliation of the Word, 101. Ellul, The Humiliation of the Word, 216. Ellul, The Humiliation of the Word, 15. Ellul, The Humiliation of the Word, 258.

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It seems to me that while Ong talks about the psychodynamics of orality and literacy, in the case of Ellul’s work we could talk about a theology, or rather spirituality, of the written versus the spoken word/ Word. ‘Ambiguity,’ ‘uncertainty,’ and ‘alive’ are the words that he uses when describing the spoken word; ‘manipulation,’ ‘triumphant,’ and ‘elimination of ambiguities’ are characteristic of images in general and writing in particular. Paraphrasing, though also simplifying, Ellul, we could perhaps say that listening requires openness, humility, and immediacy, while reading tempts to foreclose ‘different possibilities for the truth,’ and to objectify and manipulate meaning. For Ellul, ambiguity belongs to the nature of truth, but when we read rather than listen we tend to want to eliminate ambiguities and get our grasp on truth. Thus, perhaps it is admissible to state that listening leads to dialogue and an ‘agreement to disagree,’ while reading wants to do away with ‘gaps’ and thus with a variety of meanings.

The Medium of Writing and (Dis)Unity in the Reformed Tradition: Conclusion In his important book on one aspect of orality-literacy issues, the role of writing in the workings of ‘cultural memory,’ Jan Assman makes the following statement: Living, embodied tradition finds its death in the normative written word. . . . The heretical movements of the Middle Ages are based on highly authoritative texts whose survival and/or interpretation was peculiar to them. They could only justify their breach with official tradition if they could point to a text whose authority and normative claims could be shown to be superior to all other traditional and institutional claims. Dissidence presupposed literalness.30

Why should that be so? In this article, I have tried to find some guidance in answering that question based on the findings of media—in particular, orality-literacy studies. It seems to me that the two scholars whose thought I have examined share some conclusions regarding the effect of relying on the written/printed word as the primary means of information and communication for human patterns of thought and

30 Jan Assmann, Religion and Cultural Memory (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2006), 73.

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relationships. Given the personal, often ambiguous, situation bound nature of the spoken word, both Ong and Ellul are convinced that when speaking is the primary means of communication, dialogue, polemics, and even contest are the means whereby people live together and make decisions. When based on sound, knowledge is ‘alive’ and ‘personal,’ if at times uncertain and ambiguous. However, things are different when a written/printed text becomes the point of reference in the life of a community. Writing—and print to an ever greater extent—puts words into space, where they do not any more ‘happen’ at a certain time, in a certain context, but can be preserved without reference to a certain context; also, they can be read/studied by a solitary person, are arranged in a linear way, and thus suggest one possible interpretation, which can be used to manipulate others. Human beings are complex physical, psychological, emotional, and spiritual realities. Disunity and divisions in a communty, among the members of a certain group or tradition, have varied roots and reasons. In this article, I wanted to call attention to one of the possible contributors to disunity: the media as understood in Marshall McLuhan’s maxim, ‘The medium is the message.’ I have tried to show that making the written rather than the spoken word the point of reference in a community’s life might lead to an ‘irenic’ existence that is irenic because it does not allow for real personal engagement and cannot live with uncertainties but strives for univocal interpretation. For reasons that belong to the nature of (biblical) interpretation—which I have not been able to go into now—texts are rarely univocal, however. Thus disunity is inevitable. The title of one of the books by the Roman Catholic theologian, Hans Urs von Balthasar, bears the title Truth is Symphonic.31 To my mind, it is significant that the kind of theological pluralism advocated by von Balthasar can be best illustrated by an auditory image. Our hearing enables us to hear more sounds at the same time and thus to experience unity in diversity through our senses. Sight, reading a text, cannot do this. The importance of the sola scriptura principle in the Reformed tradition, I have tried to argue, may thus lead to anthropological and spiritual qualities that make this tradition especially vulnerable to divisions.

31 Hans Urs von Balthasar, Truth is Symphonic: Aspects of Christian Pluralism (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1987).

CHAPTER NINE

THE UNITY OF THE CHURCH AND THE PURE ADMINISTRATION OF THE SACRAMENTS Lyle D. Bierma

Over the centuries, the emphasis in the Reformed tradition on the ‘pure administration of the sacraments’ has sometimes led to internal church divisions because of different views of baptism and the Lord’s Supper. Over 150 years ago, for example, my own denomination, the Christian Reformed Church in North America, seceded from the Reformed Church in America partly over the practice of the Lord’s Supper. One of the charges leveled against the mother church was that some of its congregations were inviting visitors from nonReformed denominations to the Lord’s Table. In the eyes of the Christian Reformed Church, this was not allowed, presumably because these other participants were not members of the true church as defined by the Belgic Confession.1 Other examples of such divisions could also be cited: the Anabaptist break with Zwingli over the doctrine of baptism in the early 1520s; ongoing differences between the Zurich and Genevan Reformed traditions over the Lord’s Supper; the formation of English Baptist churches in Puritan Congregational circles in the early 17th century; and the Campbellite split with American Presbyterians in the 19th century, in part over the sacraments—to name just a few. In the light of this history, therefore, it is perhaps fitting that we take another look at the so-called second mark of the true church in the Belgic Confession. In what follows, I shall examine, first, two barriers to the unity of the church and then two bases for the unity of the church—all in our Reformed sacramental tradition. The two barriers are (1) a misunderstanding and misuse of the phrase ‘pure administration of the sacraments’ in Belgic Confession Article 29, and (2) a misunderstanding

1 Henry Zwaanstra, Catholicity and Secession: A Study of Ecumenicity in the Christian Reformed Church (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1991), 4–7.

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and misuse of 1 Corinthians 11 in our doctrine and practice of the Lord’s Supper. The two bases are (1) the Reformed doctrine of baptism as laid out in our confessions and liturgical forms, and (2) the treatment of the Lord’s Supper in the Heidelberg Catechism.

Barrier #1: A Misunderstanding of the Second Mark of the True Church Article 29 of the Belgic Confession begins by stating that “we ought to discern diligently and very carefully . . . what is the true church.” This church: can be recognized if it has the following marks: The church engages in the pure preaching of the gospel; it makes use of the pure administration of the sacraments as Christ instituted them; [and] it practices church discipline for correcting faults. In short, it governs itself according to the pure Word of God.2

Three times the word ‘pure’ is used here: pure preaching, pure administration of the sacraments, and pure Word of God. Unfortunately, when it comes to preaching and sacraments, some Reformed denominations have understood this purity to mean absolute agreement with their own doctrine and practice. Any deviation from their position is evidence of impurity. And since only a pure church can be the true church, churches that differ from them in any way in doctrine or practice must be false. Not only that, but as Article 28 says, “it is the duty of all believers, according to God’s Word, to separate themselves from those who do not belong to the [true] church.” The “one single catholic or universal church—a holy congregation of true Christian believers” of Article 27 turns out, in each of these cases, to be no more than a single, tiny, Reformed denomination. To view the church in this way, however, shows a serious misunderstanding and misapplication of Belgic Confession Articles 27–29, especially when it comes to the doctrine of the sacraments. Texts, of course, must always be read in context, both literary and historical. The problem with this sectarian Reformed understanding of purity is

2 All quotations from the Belgic Confession are from the CRC’s 1985 English translation in Ecumenical Creeds and Reformed Confessions (Grand Rapids: CRC Publications, 1988), 78–120.

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that it takes the phrase ‘pure administration of the sacraments’ out of the context of the confession and of the time in which it was written. We should note, first of all, that the three marks of the true church in Article 29 are set in contrast to the three marks of the false church near the end of the article: As for the false church, [1] it assigns more authority to itself and its ordinances than to the Word of God; it does not want to subject itself to the yoke of Christ; [2] it does not administer the sacraments as Christ commanded in his Word; it rather adds to them or subtracts from them as it pleases; it bases itself on men, more than on Jesus Christ; [3] it persecutes those who live holy lives according to the Word of God and who rebuke it for its faults, greed, and idolatry.

The pure administration of the sacraments is defined here not as uniform adherence to a particular doctrine or practice of the sacraments, but as an administration of the sacraments “as Christ instituted them.” What this means becomes clearer when one looks at the corresponding mark of the false church, which “does not administer the sacraments as Christ commanded in his Word.” Why not? Because it adds to or takes away from what Christ commanded. The purity or impurity of the sacraments, according to the Belgic Confession, has to do with how closely they follow the prescription for them laid out in scripture. To alter this prescription is to contaminate the sacraments—to make them impure. According to the Belgic Confession, this is exactly what had happened in the medieval Roman Catholic Church, which, of course, is the primary target of this polemic. According to de Bres, the Catholic Church had contaminated the administration of the sacraments by adding both to their number and to their practice. At the end of Article 33 on the sacraments in general, for example, the confession states that “we are satisfied with the number of sacraments that Christ our Master has ordained for us. There are only two: the sacrament of baptism and the Holy Supper of Jesus Christ.” Pure administration of the sacraments meant limiting the number of the sacraments to the two that Christ had ordained. Furthermore, at the end of Article 35 on the Lord’s Supper we read: Therefore we reject as desecrations of the sacraments all the muddled ideas and damnable inventions that men have added and mixed in with them. And we say that we should be content with the procedure that Christ and the apostles have taught us and speak of these things as they have spoken of them.

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Here, de Bres might have had in mind such things as the celebration of the Mass in a language the people did not understand, the transsubstantiation of the elements, the ringing of bells to mark the moment of consecration, and the distribution of the elements in only one kind. Pure administration of the Lord’s Supper meant rejecting all medieval accretions that had contaminated the Supper and following the ‘procedure’ of Christ and the apostles. The pure administration of the sacraments in the Belgic Confession, therefore, does not mean one particular doctrine or practice of the sacraments that marks the boundary line between the true and false church. None of the leading lights of the early Reformed tradition— not Calvin, not Farel, not Beza, not Bullinger, not a Lasco, not de Bres himself—identified the true church on the basis of such a narrow view of purity. For early Reformed Protestantism, all churches in Europe that confessed the gospel of Jesus Christ and sought to administer the sacraments according to the norms of scripture alone were part of the true church.3 Purity had to do with the principle of sola Scriptura, and it was the violation of that principle, according to the Belgic Confession, that made the late medieval Roman Catholic Church a false church. Any claim by a later Reformed denomination, therefore, that it alone is the true church is not only an impediment to visible ecclesiastical unity but also a betrayal of our own confessional tradition.

Barrier #2: A Misunderstanding of 1 Corinthians 11 A second barrier to the visible unity of the church in the Reformed sacramental tradition is a probable misunderstanding and misapplication of Paul’s treatment of the Lord’s Supper in 1 Corinthians 11. In verses 27–29 we read: So then, whoever eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty of sinning against the body and blood of the Lord. Everyone ought to examine themselves before they eat of the bread and drink of the cup. For those who eat and drink without discerning the body of Christ eat and drink judgment on themselves. (TNIV)

3 For a more detailed discussion of this, see A.D.R. Polman, Onze Nederlandse Geloofsbelijdenis: Verklaard uit het Verleden Geconfronteerd met het Heden [Our Dutch Confession of Faith: Historical Commentary with Comtemporary Application] (Franeker: Wever, n.d.), 3: 361.

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This passage has fostered in our confessional and liturgical tradition an introspective eucharistic piety and a careful fencing, or supervision, of the Lord’s table. The Heidelberg Catechism, for example, answers Question 81, “Who are to come to the Lord’s table?” as follows: Those who are displeased with themselves because of their sins, but who nevertheless trust that their sins are pardoned and that their continuing weakness is covered by the suffering and death of Christ, and who also desire more and more to strengthen their faith and to lead a better life. Hypocrites and those who are unrepentant, however, eat and drink judgment to themselves.4

In some Reformed circles, of course, this has led to the exclusion from the table of all but members of their own denomination. And since baptized infants are not capable of the self-examination that Paul is talking about, nearly all Reformed churches have also kept them from the table until they are old enough to profess their faith. This tendency toward introspection and exclusion, however, is based on a reading of 1 Corinthians 11 that takes verses 27–29 out of their literary and historical context. Paul’s primary concern in this chapter is the same as his concern throughout the book; namely, the unity of the church. Already in chapter 1, he appeals to the Corinthian congregation to have “no divisions among you, but that you be perfectly united in mind and thought.”5 In chapter 10, which immediately precedes the discourse on the Lord’s Supper in chapter 11, Paul stresses that communal partaking of the one loaf in the Supper symbolizes a unity of the church that is grounded in their common union with the body and blood of Christ himself.6 And in the subsequent context in chapter 12, he asserts that the many parts of the body of Christ form a single entity: “For we were all baptized by one Spirit so as to form one body.”7 It is in this context that chapter 11: 17–34 must be read.8 The passage is divided into four parts. In the first section (vv. 17–22), Paul lays out the immediate pastoral problem in the Corinthian community: when 4 All quotations from the Heidelberg Catechism are from the CRC’s 1975/1988 English translation in Ecumenical Creeds and Reformed Confessions (Grand Rapids: CRC Publications, 1988), 12–77. 5 1 Cor. 1:10. 6 1 Cor. 10:16–17. 7 1 Cor. 12:12. 8 The following exegetical analysis is indebted especially to Gordon Fee, The First Epistle to the Corinthians, The New International Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1987), and Jeffrey A.D. Weima, “Children at the Lord’s

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they come together as a church to celebrate the Lord’s Supper as part of a meal, there are divisions among them. These divisions are social in nature: the rich in the community are behaving at the table in such a way that “those who have nothing” are being humiliated. But this pastoral situation, Paul goes on to say in the next section (vv. 23–26), presents a serious theological problem. Such an abuse of the body of Christ gathered around the table is an abuse of Christ himself, who is being remembered and proclaimed at the table. Divisive behavior at the Supper contradicts one of the very things the Supper represents; namely, the unity of Christ’s body, the church, brought about by the death of Christ’s body, his flesh and blood. To remedy this situation, Paul continues in vv. 27–32, the Corinthians must “examine themselves” to make sure that they are “discerning the body of Christ” when they eat and drink at the Lord’s Supper. The word ‘body’ here may refer to the body and blood of Christ sacrificed on the cross, but its primary referent is certainly to the community gathered around the table. Those who eat and drink in an unworthy, or inappropriate, manner, that is, without proper recognition of and respect for others in the community, sin against the body of Christ in both senses—against Christ himself, whose death they are proclaiming, and against those who are joined in one body to Christ, their head. In the last section of this passage (vv. 33–34), Paul concludes with a specific exhortation to the Corinthian church: when you come together to eat a communal meal that includes the Lord’s Supper, instead of humiliating some when others eat first, or eat separately, or eat more than the others, welcome or accept each other at the table. Enlarge the circle to include all members of the church community, both rich and poor. Practice the unity of the body which is envisioned in the proclamation of Christ’s death. 1 Corinthians 11:17–34, then, is not about personal spiritual checkups every time one is about to go the Lord’s Supper. It is not about an individualistic, introspective examination of one’s heart for every unconfessed sin that may be lurking there. Rather, it is about examining relationships with fellow believers and celebrating the sacrament

Supper and the Key Text of 1 Corinthians 11:17–34,” Calvin Theological Seminary Forum 14, no. 2 (Spring 2007): 3–4.

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in a manner that does not humiliate some church members. In other words, the apostle is calling first and foremost not for a vertical selfexamination, how we stand personally in relation to Christ, but for a horizontal self-examination, how we stand in relation to others at the table. If this exegesis is sound, then one of the great barriers to the visible unity of the church in the Reformed sacramental tradition may have fallen. A number of Reformed and Presbyterian denominations today—including my own, the CRC—are coming to the conclusion that 1 Corinthians 11 can no longer be used as a basis for division right within our own churches: a division between professing members of the congregation who are invited to the Lord’s table and baptized children of the congregation who are not. Indeed, they argue, when the church excludes baptized children from the Lord’s Supper, it comes close to doing the same thing that the Corinthian church was doing: creating divisions in the body and humiliating fellow church members. In our Reformed tradition, we have always stressed that there is one covenant community of God throughout all redemptive history and that children are full members of that community. On that basis we have argued that since children of believing parents in the Old Testament received the sacrament of initiation into the covenant community (circumcision), covenant children today should receive the sacrament of initiation that has replaced circumcision (baptism). Why, then, would the same not apply to the sacrament of nurture? If in the Old Testament, covenant children participated in the household and communal celebrations of the Passover and other sacred meals of remembrance,9 they should also be welcome at the New Testament counterpart to these feasts, the Lord’s Supper. As Paul reminds us in 1 Corinthians 10, members of the Old Covenant community “all ate the same spiritual food and drank the same spiritual drink” from the rock that was Christ.10 There is nothing in chapter 11 to suggest that that the ‘all’ has now become only ‘some.’

9 10

Ex. 12:3–4, 21–26; Deut. 12:6–7. 1 Cor. 10:2–4.

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lyle d. bierma Basis #1: The Reformed Doctrine of Baptism

From two barriers to the visible unity of the church in our sacramental theology we now turn to two bases in our tradition on which such a unity can be built: the doctrine of baptism in some of our confessional and liturgical forms, and the doctrine of the Lord’s Supper as found in the Heidelberg Catechism. First, the doctrine of baptism. Belgic Confession Article 34 states that Christ “has commanded that all those who belong to him be baptized with pure water in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.” By such baptism “we are received into God’s church and set apart from all other people and alien religions.” And in the next article we read that Christ instituted the Lord’s Supper “to nourish and sustain those who are already born again and ingrafted into his family: his church.” Who are those who belong to Christ and are ingrafted into his family? The confession does not have just a local congregation or one, tiny denomination in view here, but the “one single catholic or universal church,” all “true Christian believers . . . sanctified and sealed by the Holy Spirit” throughout the world from the beginning of the world until the end (Art. 27). The Heidelberg Catechism makes the same point. According to Question and Answer 74, infants, like their believing parents, are part of the covenant and people of God. Therefore, by baptism, the sign of that covenant, they too should be incorporated or ingrafted into the Christian church. What church is this? A community “elected to eternal life” that the Son of God “gathers, protects, and preserves . . . out of the entire human race, from the beginning of the world to its end.” And perhaps most pertinent to the question before us today—it is a community gathered “in the unity of true faith.” It is that community, not just a local congregation or denomination, of which “I am and always will remain a living member” (Question and Answer 54). Personal baptism occurs at a specific place and time in history, but it enfolds us into a community that extends far beyond that place and time. The confessions are simply resonating with scripture here. At the beginning of his first letter to the Corinthians, Paul appeals to the Christian community in Corinth to “agree with one another in what you say and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be perfectly united in mind and thought.”11 Factional quarrels were

11

1 Cor. 1:10.

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destroying the visible unity of that church, which in turn reflected badly on Christ himself. “Is Christ divided?,” Paul asks rhetorically? Of course not! And if Christ himself is not divided, then neither should those who belong to Christ, for they have been visibly brought into identity with him: they have been baptized into his name.12 As he puts it in chapter 12, “we were all baptized by one Spirit so as to form one body.”13 Water baptism points to a Spirit baptism into the one body of Christ. And that spiritual unity, Paul concludes, must be brought to visible expression: “There should be no division in the body.”14 The significance of baptism for the unity of the church can also be seen in the liturgical forms for baptism that some of us in the Reformed tradition use. There are several indications in these forms that baptism connects the baptizand not just to the local congregation, but to the church of Christ, the universal church. For example, in a form for the baptism of infants which goes back to the Palatinate liturgy in Heidelberg, which was adapted by Reformed churches in the Netherlands and today is still in use by several denominations, the minister introduces the prayer of preparation with the words, “Let us turn to God, asking that in this baptism his name may be glorified, we may be comforted, and the church may be edified.” In the prayer itself, the bringing of “your people Israel” through the Red Sea is cited as a demonstration of God’s mercy “toward us,” implying a continuity between the people of God in the Old Testament and the church today.15 In a newer form for infant baptism produced by my own denomination in 1976, we read that in obedience to Jesus’ command, “the church baptizes believers and their children.” And in the final baptismal prayer of the liturgy, the minister asks God that “when Christ returns, let [these baptized children] celebrate with all the people of God your greatness and goodness.”16 Furthermore, the CRC’s form for public profession of faith begins by reminding the community that when those about to confess their faith were baptized, “they were received into the church,” and “now they wish to share fully in the life of this congregation and of the whole

12

1 Cor. 1:13–14. 1 Cor. 12:12–13. 14 1 Cor. 12:25. 15 “Baptism of Children [Form 1],” in Psalter Hymnal (Grand Rapids: CRC Publications, 1988), 958. 16 “Baptism of Children [Form 2],” in Psalter Hymnal, 960, 962. 13

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church of God.” One of the questions then asked of the confessor is, “Do you accept the gracious promises of God sealed to you in your baptism and do you affirm your union with Christ and his church which your baptism signifies?”17 Finally, in a form for adult baptism that dates back to the Synod of Dort, the baptizand is addressed as one who wants “to be incorporated into God’s church” and is asked, “Do you believe . . . that by the power of the Holy Spirit you have become a member of Jesus Christ and his church?”18 Our liturgical forms, therefore, like our confessions, convey the sense that we are baptized not into one part of the church but into the whole church of Jesus Christ, the one, holy, catholic church. When we combine that with the fact that Reformed churches have always recognized trinitarian water baptisms in other Christian denominations as valid, we have a solid basis on which to work for the unity of the church: one baptism points to one church.

Basis #2: The Doctrine of the Lord’s Supper in the Heidelberg Catechism A second foundation in our sacramental tradition for the unity of the church might be the model provided by probably the most famous confession in Reformed history, the Heidelberg Catechism (1563), in its treatment of the sacraments. The entire catechism, really, represented a theological consensus among several Protestant parties in the German Palatinate, but this consensus is especially clear in the catechism’s treatment of the Lord’s Supper.19 Scholars over the past one hundred years have labeled the eucharistic doctrine of the Heidelberg Catechism as Calvinist, or Zwinglian, or Bullingerian, or Melanchthonian, or some combination or blend of these traditions, but, in my judgment, none of these labels is accurate. Rather, the catechism sought what one scholar has called ‘maximal consensus’ and ‘mini-

17

“Public Profession of Faith [Form 2],” in Psalter Hymnal, 964. “Baptism of Adults [Form 1],” in Psalter Hymnal, 967. 19 See Lyle D. Bierma, “The Doctrine of the Sacraments in the Heidelberg Catechism: Melanchthonian, Zwinglian, or Calvinist?” Studies in Reformed Theology and History, New Series, no. 4 (Princeton: Princeton Theological Seminary, 1999). 18

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mal dissensus’ among the various confessional streams in the electoral Palatinate.20 Elsewhere I have explained in greater detail the consensus or common ground on some of the major themes in the catechism’s treatment of the sacraments: the definition of sacrament, the connection between the sacraments and Christ’s sacrificial death, the parallelism between sign and signified, the breaking of the bread ( fractio panis), and the Holy Spirit as the bond of union between Christ and the believer in the Lord’s Supper. None of these is exclusively Philippist, Calvinist, or Zwinglian in the way it is represented in the Heidelberg Catechism. All turn out to be present in at least two, and sometimes all three, of those traditions.21 However, does this common ground suggest that there were no differences at all in sacramental teaching among the Protestant factions in Heidelberg, or only that the Heidelberg Catechism does not address such differences as did exist? The evidence points to the latter. In spite of the fact that Calvin, for example, repeatedly endorsed Melanchthon’s altered version of the Augsburg Confession and at the same time could subscribe to the Consensus Tigurinus with Bullinger,22 there did remain disputed points of sacramental doctrine among the three Reformers and their followers. But none of these surfaces in the Heidelberg Catechism. To put it another way, the catechism appears to avoid issues and language that could have identified it too closely with one or two parties and given offense to the other(s). Let us look at just one example of this; namely, the silence of the Heidelberg Catechism on the question of how the signs of the Lord’s Supper are related to that which they signify.23 Of particular relevance to the interpretation of the Heidelberg Catechism are the differences between Calvin and Bullinger on this issue. Calvin defended a position that has been termed ‘symbolic instrumentalism,’ which holds that the signs or elements of a sacrament are the instruments through which or

20 Willem Verboom, De Theologie van de Heidelbergse Catechismus—Twaalf Thema’s: De Context en de Latere Uitwerking [The Theology of the Heidelberg Catechism— Twelve Themes: Context and the Subsequent Elaboration] (Zoetermeer: Boekencentrum, 1996), 215. 21 Bierma, Sacraments, 9–20. 22 John T. McNeill, The History and Character of Calvinism (London: Oxford UP, 1954), 197–99. 23 For a fuller discussion of this point and references to the sources, see Bierma, Sacraments, 23–30.

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by which God’s Spirit conveys the spiritual reality that they symbolize. Sacramental signs can be distinguished from that which they signify, but they cannot be separated. The sign is joined with the signified in such a way that the latter is offered to and received by the believer simultaneously with the former. Sacraments are, in the strictest sense of the term, ‘means of grace.’ Bullinger, on the other hand, took a position that may be called ‘symbolic parallelism.’ He was concerned that Calvin’s use of the noun instrumentum, the verb exhibere (‘to present, offer, confer’), and the preposition per (‘through’) ascribes more efficacy to the sacramental signs than to the Holy Spirit. The sacraments are not ‘instruments’ that ‘confer’ grace ‘through’ the signs. Rather, the elements provide only a symbolic parallel or visual analogy in which God testifies to the inner working of his grace independently of the signs. The Spirit may work simultaneously with the signs, as in the case of the Lord’s Supper, but the signs remain separate from the blessings to which they point. They only resemble grace, they do not confer it. When Heidelberg Catechism Question and Answer 75 asserts, therefore, that the Lord’s Supper reminds and assures us that “as surely as I receive from the hand of the one who serves and taste with my mouth the bread and cup of the Lord, . . . so surely he nourishes and refreshes my soul for eternal life with his crucified body and poured-out blood,” is it more Calvinist or Bullingerian? Actually, it is a language which both Calvin and Bullinger have used. Where their ways parted was not on whether the sign and signified are parallel but on whether they are merely parallel. Are sacramental signs and actions only visual analogies to the grace that the Holy Spirit bestows apart from them (Bullinger), or are they more than analogies; namely, the very means or instruments through which that grace is communicated to believers (Calvin)? That is a question the Heidelberg Catechism simply does not address. It neither affirms nor denies one position or the other. Here, the catechism appears to go as far as the two Reformers and their followers might agree, but no further. Once again, it maximizes consensus and minimizes dissension. The Heidelberg Catechism, of course, was not an experiment in modern ecumenism. Frederick III’s desire for theological consensus was motivated more by a concern for the religious and political unity of his territory than for the unity of the one, holy, catholic church. And, of course, it was a consensus that extended only so far. Much of the teaching in the Heidelberg Catechism is defined against Roman

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Catholicism, Anabaptism, and the brand of Lutheranism later embodied in the Formula of Concord. Nevertheless, for the Reformed tradition it does model a degree of unity among several Protestant factions on one of the most controversial doctrines of the Reformation era. Frederick III, Ursinus, and the committee that worked on the Heidelberg Catechism tried to find formulations that everyone could subscribe to and to avoid formulations that anyone might find offensive. If one of our own ‘forms of unity’ was born in a quest for unity, should that not inspire us to a similar quest today?

Conclusion One of the great ironies in the history of Christianity is that the sacraments, which are supposed to exemplify and strengthen the unity of the church, have often become a source of division. This is certainly true in the Reformed tradition. For example, sometimes we have taken the second mark of the true church, which was intended to distinguish Reformation Protestantism from medieval expressions of Catholicism, and turned it against other Reformed churches themselves. Furthermore, in our practice of the Lord’s Supper, we have traditionally excluded some whom we have already identified in the sacrament of baptism as full members of the church. And these are just two of the barriers we have erected. What is heartening is that under our very eyes, that is, right within our own confessional and liturgical tradition, there are resources and bases for pursuing the visible unity of the church. I have singled out just two: a perspective on baptism in our confessions and liturgical forms that identifies us with the whole church of Jesus Christ; and the model of theological consensus provided by the Heidelberg Catechism in its doctrine of the Lord’s Supper. The challenge for us in the 21st century is not only to discover more such resources in our sacramental tradition but also to use these resources to bring the spiritual unity of the church to greater visible expression. Is that not, after all, one of the most important implications of the ‘pure administration of the sacraments’?

CHAPTER TEN

CONFESSIONS AS INSTRUMENTS OF (DIS)UNITY? Dirkie Smit

Introduction Are confessions instruments of church unity—or perhaps of disunity? Have they historically served unity, or rather disunity? Indeed, can they serve unity, or ultimately only disunity? These are extremely complex questions, and impossible to answer in an abstract and theoretical way. There are loaded with too many assumptions, presuppositions, and further questions which call for careful consideration. Any answer will depend on the respective views of confessions, on how the purpose of confessions is seen, and, therefore, on what might be meant by instrument, and on diverse notions of and expectations regarding unity.

Confession? The Reformed tradition has always been a confessional tradition.1 Creeds and confessions of faith have played a major role in defining the tradition: they have been crucial documents as Reformed churches in their various locales have identified themselves as members of the church catholic and have expressed their understanding of the one gospel for their time and circumstances.2

1 This points to the importance of truth in the Reformed tradition, to the central and interrelated notions of knowledge, faith, trust, and to the crucial relation between unity and truth. See, for example, Willem D. Jonker, “Catholicity, unity and truth,” in Catholicity and Secession, ed. Paul Schrotenboer (Kampen: Kok, 1992), 16–27. 2 For a standard collection of 58 of the earliest Reformed confessions, see E.F. Karl Müller, Die Bekenntnisschriften der reformierten Kirche (Leipzig: A. Deichert, 1903). For a more recent collection, see Georg Plasger & Matthias Freudenberg, Reformierte Bekenntnisschriften (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2005). For very valuable introductions to the complex developments of these confessions, see Lukas Vischer,

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The Reformed tradition shares most of these characteristics with broader Protestantism. In a certain sense, confessions represent a typically Protestant phenomenon. Other Christian traditions—for example, the Roman Catholic or Orthodox traditions—do not really need confessional documents in the Protestant sense, since they have other institutional ways and structures to deal with the same kinds of issues that Protestant churches normally address through confessions.3 Even within Protestantism, however, it is necessary to distinguish more carefully, since the term confession involves a plurality of meanings. Not even all communities and traditions within Protestantism use the term ‘confessions.’ It is not a technical term at all. It does not only refer to a specific kind of document that is drafted according to certain generic criteria and therefore complying with certain general criteria. It is, accordingly, not possible to almost mechanically determine whether specific documents qualify as proper confessions simply based on whether they fulfill any such general criteria, or not. Any approach of this nature would be based on formalistic misunderstandings of the nature of Protestant confession.4

“The Reformed Tradition and its Multiple Facets,” in Jean-Jacques Bauswein & Lukas Vischer, The Reformed Family Worldwide: A Survey of Reformed Churches, Theological Schools and International Organizations (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999), 1–33; also Jan Rohls, Theologie reformierter Bekenntnisschriften (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1987), 13–33. 3 In many ways some of the major differences between these traditions are related to these differences—concerning the nature of truth, the locus, nature and role of authority, the function of ecclesial and theological decisions and formulations, the forms of continuity and loyalty to the tradition, the nature of faith and personal commitment to the gospel, see Friedrich Wilhelm Graf, Der Protestantismus. Geschichte und Gegenwart (München: C.H. Beck, 2006). 4 “A confession of faith is an officially adopted statement that spells out a church’s understanding of the meaning and implications of the one basic confession of the lordship of Christ. Such statements have not always been called confessions. They have also been called creeds, symbols, formulas, definitions, declarations of faith, statements of belief, articles of faith, and other similar names. All these are different ways of talking about the same thing,” The Confessional Nature of the Church, PCUSA 1998. “Sie verstehen sich als Rechenschaft des Glaubens, um die Kirche in ihrem Zeugnis zu stärken, und zwar in unterschiedlicher Gestalt: als Glaubensbekenntnisse im engeren Sinn, als theologische Erklärungen, als Sammlung von Lehrsätzen, als Thesen, als Katechismen und als Kirchenordnungen . . . (Es) gibt auf reformierter Seite weder eine alle Bekenntnisse umfassende Sammlung noch eine letztgültige Einigkeit darüber, mit welchen Kriterien eine solche Sammlung entscheiden soll, was eine reformierte Bekenntnisschrift ist. Unterschiedliche Texte wie Katechismen, Thesen, Glaubenserklärungen, Konsenserklärungen und Kirchenordnungen können zu den Bekenntnisschriften gezählt werden,” Plasger & Freudenberg, Bekenntnisschriften, 7–8.

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This obviously results in the fact that the Reformed tradition knows a plurality of confessional documents. Living with a multiplicity of confessional documents became characteristic of the Reformed churches from the very beginning—in distinction, for example, to the Lutheran churches, which have an authoritative corpus of confessions worldwide.5 The plurality of confessional documents is accompanied by an equally basic plurality of views on the nature of such documents in the Reformed tradition—a plurality that through history sometimes led to controversies and conflicts, both within and between Reformed communities.6 Together, these factors raise questions concerning the binding nature of Reformed confessions, their Verbindlichkeit, both in the sense of being authoritative, binding, and compulsory (verpflichtend) and in the sense of being reliable, trustworthy, and true (verlässlich). Under normal circumstances—and for most Reformed churches— confessional documents possess a relative authority—with emphasis on both terms.7 They have authority, since they represent the way

5 Günther Gassmann & Scott Hendrix, Introduction to the Lutheran Confessions (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1999). In the Lutheran tradition, the confessional development and consolidation (in the authoritative Augsburg Confession and later the corpus of the Book of Concord, 1580), as well as the so-called confessional conflicts in Germany during later centuries, were all much more influenced by political and legal necessities and struggles. In many ways, this confessional consolidation was necessary and important for purposes of political unity. In the Reformed churches, on the contrary, different congregations and locales adopted and used different confessional documents. In several cases—such as Geneva—different confessional documents succeeded and complemented one another, and built a local tradition or corpus. Some congregations adopted more confessions, some fewer; some never adopted confessions as an official confessional basis at all—even until today. Sometimes a specific confession would gradually be received more widely, by other congregations and churches. Some would become regional, national, and even more general confessional documents. Often this process took many decades, or indeed centuries. See Vischer, “Reformed Tradition,” in Bauswein & Vischer, Reformed Family, 1–33, for a careful consideration of the diverse reasons and purposes behind confessions in different countries and historical phases. 6 Again, there is no single and authoritative view of confessions within the Reformed tradition. Remarkable differences of views and of practices can be seen between—for example—Swiss, German, Hungarian, Scottish, and Dutch Reformed churches, differences which only become multiplied when Reformed churches in Africa, Asia, the Americas, and the Presbyterian and Congregational worlds are also taken into consideration. The fundamental importance of these different viewpoints and different practices represents in fact a further characteristic of the Reformed faith. 7 Sometimes they are called norma normata in distinction from the norma normans, normed norms in distinction from the norming norm; or also ‘subordinate

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earlier generations have understood the Word of God. This authority is, however, relative: first, since such confessions are in principle always subject to the sole and final authority of God’s Word; second, since they are historical in nature; and third, since they are the products of fallible human beings, and therefore, in principle, always revisable. This acknowledgement of the relative authority and therefore the revisable nature of their confessions is regarded by some as characteristic of the Reformed position.8 All three reasons represent typical Reformed convictions. In the first place, Reformed confessions are in principle always subject to the sole and final authority of God’s Word. They carry no authority in and from themselves; neither do they receive authority from any external authoritarian sources or factors—for example, the authority of the church leaders that may pronounce them, or the church authorities proclaiming them, or the church meetings accepting them.9 Many of them, in fact, include an explicit invitation to measure them against the message of God’s Word, and involve a promise that they will be revised, adapted, or rejected whenever it can be demonstrated in the light of the scriptures that this is necessary. The Word of God is understood as the living voice of the living God, the faithful God of the covenant, still speaking through his Word and Spirit and guiding the whole church in the truth through time and history. This very fundamental subjection of all confessions to the true authority of God’s living Word is not merely formal, intended as lip service,

standards,’ in other words they are indeed themselves normative and authoritative standards for the faith and life of the church, but standards that are themselves subordinate to the true standard and that receive their relative authority only from this real standard. 8 See, for example, the insightful essay by Eberhard Busch, “Das Bekenntnis des Glaubens zwischen Zwang und Willkür,” in Verbindlich von Gott reden (Neukirchen: Neukirchen, foedus, 2002), 59–77. He begins with the fairly uncommon situation of Reformed churches in Switzerland, who have no confessions, and often do not even use the ecumenical creeds of the early church; in a very instructive way he explains the political reasons and influences behind this situation. 9 Again and again in Reformed history such confessional documents themselves make explicitly clear in their own words or in accompanying letters and declarations, that their authority is a derived one, that they are normative precisely because and to the extent that they themselves are under the norm of the true and real norm. Their authority is, therefore, a spiritual authority, depending on the fact—and to the extent—that they give faithful expression to the purposes of scripture and the gospel for every new historical moment.

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or empty gesture. On the contrary, it expresses the very heart of the Reformed piety—claiming to live by God’s Word alone.10 In the second place, Reformed confessions are historical and contextual by nature. In this respect, these documents should not be treated, read, or used differently from the biblical documents. Like the biblical books, periscopes, and texts, confessions therefore also need responsible interpretation—showing respect for their historical context and their social and cultural background, sensitivity for the grammatical and conceptual instrumentation available to the original authors, careful insight into the specific controversies in which and the positions against which they were written in the first place, and displaying feeling for the rhetorical purposes, thrust, and power of the original argument. Reformed engagement with the confessional documents should by definition take their historical and contextual nature very seriously, and never regard, read, or use them as ahistorical documents with timeless and eternal propositions. Whenever this aspect has been forgotten or denied, and these documents indeed read and used as timeless and acontextual systems of propositional truth during specific phases of the histories of some Reformed communities, it has often led to positions and practices that contradicted and even betrayed the most fundamental Reformed convictions—in this way it has often led to alien notions of truth (as given in the accuracy of propositions), alien notions of faith (as intellectual obedience to authoritative documents, meetings, decisions, or even figures), alien notions of the knowledge of faith (as intellectual information about historical facts and correct formulations), alien notions of certainty (as rational conclusions based on irrefutable

10 In the continuous testing and revising of the confessional heritage, the concern is not with mere words, expressions or grammatical formulations, or to rectify historical inaccuracies or controversial exegetical detail, but rather with the heart of what is being confessed, with the religious motives involved, with the spiritual thrust, the real decisions that were at stake at the historical moment of confession, with the deepest convictions of faith expressed in the specific confessional document. For the debate behind this, see, for example, the careful but still controversial discussion by Gerrit C. Berkouwer, “Vragen rondom de Belijdenis,” GTT 63 (1963), 1–41. This is, for example, why some churches found it necessary to amend article 36 in the Confessio Belgica on the responsibilities of the state regarding the church and the proclamation of the gospel, since the religious presuppositions in contemporary democratic societies no longer share the assumptions expressed during the 16th century; another example is why the Church of Scotland amended the Westminster Confession to include more recent Reformed insights into the missionary responsibility of the church.

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axioms), alien notions of authority (as primary institutional and legal), even alien notions of the nature and function of Reformed confessions themselves (as systems of thought to be used to discipline people who do not adhere to the precise expressions and formulations of the authoritative body of teaching). For the mainstream of Reformed piety, however, confessions also need intense exegesis and interpretation. An informed and responsible hermeneutics of tradition is called for, precisely in order to hear the powerful and living witness of the confessions anew in every present moment. It is precisely as historical and contextual documents that they still remain guidelines and advisers, providing invaluable and authoritative orientation on the way of the Reformed communities through history. Precisely in their historicity and contextuality, against the backdrop of their own debates, temptations, conflicts, and struggles, they retain their authority for the present. In the third place, Reformed confessions are the products of fallible human activity, which implies that they may need correction, revision, and even replacement. The confessional tradition itself often and very deliberately warns against overestimating or attaching too much authority and importance to any form of human decision-making, human standpoints, human meetings, and documents—obviously including themselves. The church meetings where these confessional documents were discussed and adopted are, after all, themselves also included among those meetings against which the confessions so explicitly warn: this applies as well to all the theologians in the tradition, including Calvin, in the same way that it applies to all leading figures, to schools, traditions, documents, decisions—all fallible humans and human work.11

11 In a way, this is the outspoken thrust behind the well-known slogan ecclesia reformata semper reformanda, so often used to describe the deepest intentions of the tradition. It seems that this expression itself is not from the earliest time of the Reformation—some claim it is from Voetius; for example, Willem A. Visser ’t Hooft, The Renewal of the Church (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1956), 76. Others claim that it was coined by Schneemelcher and Steck for the 1952 Festschrift for Ernst Wolf. In spite of this, almost everyone agrees that the idea behind the expression indeed goes back to the very nature of the Reformation itself: see for example Jakob Frey, “Ecclesia Semper Reformanda—ex Fide Scripturae Sacrae,” in Christoph Dahling-Sander, Margit Ernst & Georg Plasger Hrsg., Herausgeforderte Kirche (Wuppertal: foedus, 1997), 365–72; Bernd Oberdorfer, “ ‘Ecclesia Semper Reformanda’—eine Tradition der Traditionsverzehrung?,” in Peter Gemeinhardt & Bernd Oberdorfer Hrsg., Gebundene Freiheit?

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This does not imply that these confessions should be regarded as mere opinion; for example, merely the personal opinion of those involved or merely the perspective of the church, believers, or congregations behind any particular confessional document—on the contrary. The tradition is not interested in establishing and defending ‘the Reformed’ or ‘the Calvinist’ positions and teachings in distinction from others. Deeply aware of their own human limitations and perspectivity, they still claim to confess the gospel, the truth of the gospel, and the biblical message for their own particular context. Reformed confessions are therefore always addressed to the general church catholic: they always strive after ecumenicity. In their own eyes they do not merely represent one particular point of view or the interests of one specific group. The emphasis on confession in the Reformed tradition is not an attempt to be different or separate, but precisely an attempt to be faithful to the one gospel and part of the church catholic and ecumenical in the real world. They implicitly claim to speak for the gospel, and, therefore, invite the responses of the brothers and sisters, not to accept the confessional documents as their own, but to indicate whether they share the same convictions regarding the gospel, expressed in the confessions, or not. This is what makes the further process of reception of these documents in other congregations and churches so important—not always reception as confessions with any status, but primarily reception in the form of recognition, study, reflection, discussion, critique, use, and source of inspiration for further action. Taken together, these three characteristics imply that under normal circumstances such confessions have relative authority in the life of these churches, but under specific conditions it may become necessary for the church to confess anew.12 Under abnormal circumstances,

(Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 2007); Harold P. Nebelsick, “Ecclesia reformata semper reformanda,” Reformed liturgy and music, Spring (1984), 59–63. 12 These were the reasons why many confessional documents were written and adopted. Guido de Brés, writing the Confessio Belgica, appealed to the Christological confession of the early church, but did not, for that reason, regard new confession as unnecessary, on the contrary. The new historical moment called not for mere repetition, but for new listening to the Word, for new forms of hearing, new insights of discernment, and new ways of expression. The Canons of Dordrecht did not merely repeat the salvation by grace teachings of the Confessio Belgica or the Heidelberg Catechism, although it in no way wanted to contradict these two confessional documents, but found it imperative precisely to confess this same faith if possible more clearly than before and to articulate possible misunderstandings, confusion and mistaken opinions more accurately than before. For instructive reflection on the complex questions

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therefore, in the face of radical challenges to the gospel, such Reformed churches may feel that their confession itself, the integrity and credibility of their witness to the gospel, is at stake.13 Together with other Protestant churches, Reformed churches describe such abnormal circumstances of challenge and crisis with the expression status confessionis, a state of confession indicating that a moment of truth has arisen in which the truth of nothing else than the gospel itself is at stake. The World Alliance of Reformed Churches gave a description of a status confessionis during meetings in Seoul and Debrecen.14

involved in the writing of new confessions, see, for example, John Leith, “The Writing of a Reformed Confession Today,” The Reformed World 39/2 (1986), 501–17. 13 It was particularly during the twentieth century, and according to many primarily under the influence of developments in the German church struggle, that these convictions came to the fore again within the Reformed world; see, for example, Willie Jonker speaking about “a modern confessional movement,” in Willem D. Jonker, “Die Moderne Belydenisbeweging in Suid-Afrika—en Calvyn” (“The Modern Confessional Movement in South Africa—and Calvin”), In die Skriflig 27/4 (1993), 443–461; also Willem D. Jonker, Bevrydende Waarheid. Die Karakter van die Gereformeerde Belydenis (Liberating Truth. The Nature of the Reformed Confession) (Wellington: HugenoteUitgevers, 1994). For similar perspectives, emphasizing particularly the importance of social and political struggles and public witness in these recent confessions, see Jaroslav Pelikan, Credo. Historical and Theological Guide to Creeds and Confessions of Faith in the Christian Tradition (New Haven: Yale, 2003): “The twentieth century, which saw the rise of both Nazi and Communist totalitarian regimes that were inimical to Christianity, also therefore produced several such confessions that were political acts in this special sense. Preeminent amongst these, both in its own time and in its subsequent role as a normative confession adopted by several Protestant churches in Germany and well beyond, was The Barmen Declaration of May 1934, as Christian confessional response to a twentieth-century revival both of polytheism and of Caesar-worship no less virulent (though sometimes less overt) in its opposition to the Christian gospel. Particularly in the fifth of its six theses, protesting against the teaching that the church is ‘an organ of the state’ and that the state is ‘a total ordering of life,’ The Barmen Declaration became the rallying point, across confessional lines, for the Christian rejection of National Socialism and of other ideologies of racial purity. It has performed this function also for churches engaged in the subsequent politicaltheological struggles of developing ‘Third World’ societies against colonialism, racism, and idolatrous nationalism,” 223. For an instructive collection of some of these recent confessional documents, see Lukas Vischer, ed., Reformed Witness Today. A Collection of Confessions and Statements of Faith Issued by Reformed Churches (Bern: Evangelische Arbeitstelle Oekumene, 1982), with documents from all continents and a wide variety of countries. 14 “Any declaration of a status confessionis stems from the conviction that the integrity of the gospel is in danger. It is a call from error into truth. It demands of the church a clear, unequivocal decision for the truth of the gospel, and identifies the opposed opinion, teaching or practice as heretical. The declaration of a status confessionis refers to the practice of the church as well as to its teaching. The church’s practice in the relevant case must conform to the confession of the gospel demanded by the declaration of the status confessionis. The declaration of a status confessionis

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Sometimes during a status confessionis such churches may feel the need to express their faith anew, even in the form of new confessional documents, although that does not follow necessarily.15 In the twentieth century that has happened on several occasions and in different circumstances (e.g., Barmen in Nazi Germany and Belhar in apartheid South Africa).16 The description of such a moment of confession by the WARC points to two further characteristics. The first aspect is the fact that there is an important and reciprocal relationship in Reformed confession between truth and life and between faith and ethics.17 The need for

addresses a particular situation. It brings to light an error which threatens a specific church. Nevertheless the danger inherent in that error also calls in question the integrity of proclamation of all churches. The declaration of a status confessionis within one particular situation is, at the same time, addressed to all churches, calling them to concur in the act of confessing,” see Milan Opocenský, ed., Debrecen 1997. Proceedings of the 23rd General Council of the World Alliance of Reformed Churches (Presbyterian and Congregational) (Geneva: WARC, 1997). 15 Regarding global economic injustice and ecological destruction, the WARC in Debrecen, Hungary, decided to declare a process of confession (processus confessionis), and they explained at the time that this implies that all member churches are called to self-examination to determine whether their faith is not challenged by the way in which they perhaps participate in such injustice and destruction. Accepting that this is indeed the case could lead to a wide variety of actions on the part of believers and churches, including the new process of covenanting together that the WARC initiated at the next meeting in Accra, Ghana. For a detailed discussion of an earlier but similar process, see Ulrich Möller, Im Prozeß des Bekennens (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1999). 16 On Barmen, see the instructive Alfred Burgsmüller & Rudolf Weth, Hrsg., Die Barmer Theologische Erklärung. Einführung und Dokumentation (Neukirchen: Neukirchener Verlag, 1983); Karl Barth, Texte zur Barmer Theologischen Erklärung (Zürich: Theologischer Verlag, 1984); Eberhard Busch, Die Barmer Thesen 1934–2004 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2004). On Belhar, see G.D. (Daan) Cloete & Dirk J. Smit, A Moment of Truth (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1984); Johan G. Botha & Piet J. Naudé, Op pad met Belhar—Goeie Nuus vir Gister, Vandag en Môre! (En Route with Belhar—Good News for Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow!) (Pretoria: Van Schaik, 1998). 17 According to Jaroslav Pelikan, Reformation of Church and Dogma (1300–1700). The Christian Tradition, Vol. 4 (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1984), 217, this would become the distinguishing characteristic of the Reformed faith: “The most characteristic difference between Lutheran and Calvinist views of obedience to the word and will of God, however, lay outside the area of church dogma, in what has been called, with reference to Bucer, his ‘Christocracy’: the question of whether, and how, the law of God revealed in the Bible . . . was to be obeyed in the political and social order. That difference, when combined with the Reformed doctrine of covenant and applied to the life of nations, was to be of far-reaching historical significance, for it decisively affected the political and social evolution of the lands that came under the sway of Calvinist churchmanship and preaching,” 217. “In contrast not only to Roman Catholicism, but eventually also to Lutheranism, they were to denominate themselves ‘Reformed

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confession—whether based on reading and responding to the times in the light of the existing, authoritative confessional tradition, or in the form of new confessional stances, movements, decisions, or activities of covenanting—can also arise because of moral or ethical crises and challenges. The error which threatens the church catholic or a specific form of the church may come in the form of an ethical challenge—as was the case with racism and nuclear arms according to many. The confessional response will then have to indicate how the integrity of the gospel is in danger, in other words, how the proclamation, witness, and credibility of the gospel is threatened by claims made, and by a worldview and lifestyle propagated in the name of the gospel. The second aspect is the fact that any such act of confession in turn calls for embodiment—for practicing and living out the understanding of the gospel expressed in the confession.18 Historically, it has often been the case that Reformed churches accompanied acts of confession with new church orders,19 involving concrete and visible reformation

in accordance with the word of God (nach Gottes Wort reformiert).’ . . . (T)he designation ‘Reformed in accordance with the word of God’ contained the implicit judgment that although the word of God had been affirmed also by Luther and his followers, it had not been permitted to carry out the Reformation as thoroughly as it should have,” 183–84. 18 Speaking specifically about Barmen, but in terms that are applicable more generally, Busch claims: “Confession does not mean: clinging to a confessional text that has once been called forth from the church. Confession rather means new witness to the gospel of Jesus Christ in the light of present challenges. A church that does not faithfully practise its own confession, does not thereby make this confession invalid, but is instead called to repentance by its own confession. The worst that could happen would then be that such a church, instead of such repentance, with unrepenting hearts proudly exhibits their confession as a golden memory in a glass display cabinet. It has happened often enough that the church has not understood that the confession does not belong at home in a museum, but must be carried in front of them, and that their confession must be followed whenever facing new challenges and struggles. It is not enough for the church to have a confession. The church should live from and with its confession,” Busch, Barmer Thesen, 9–10 (freely translated, but his italics). 19 “Die Frage nach den Kirchenordnungen gehört für die reformierten Bekenntnisschriften eindeutig zum Bekenntnis der Kirche,” Paul Jacobs, Theologie Reformierter Bekenntnisschriften in Grundzügen (Neukirchen: Neukirchener Verlag, 1959), 119ff. “Nach reformierter Lehre trägt auch die Ordnung der Kirche bekenntnismässigen Charakter. . . . Die Kirche bezeugt mit ihrem Bekenntnis, wie mit ihrer Ordnung, daß Jesus Christus ihr Herr ist,” Wilhelm Niesel u.a., Hrsg., Bekenntnisschriften und Kirchenordnungen der nach Gottes Wort reformierten Kirche (Zürich: Evangelischer Verlag, 1938), Vorwort, v. See also for Calvin, Jan R. Weerda, “Ordnung zur Lehre. Zur Theologie der Kirchenordnung bei Calvin”, Nach Gottes Wort reformierte Kirche (Theologische Bücherei. Neudrucke und Berichte aus dem 20. Jahrhundert. Band 23. Historische Theologie) (München: Chr. Kaiser Verlag, 1964), 132–61 and for the Heidelberg Catechism and the related church order, Kirchenordnung, Wie es mit

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of their way of embodying and practicing the gospel, and with new forms of Christian life also in the public domain.20

Instrument? If this is the nature of Reformed confessions, can they then, in any way, serve as instruments of church unity—or will they inevitably, given these pluralities and ambiguities, always hinder and obstruct any form of unity? Any answer to this question will depend on their purpose and on their role and function. So, therefore, how do confessional documents function in the life and practices of the Reformed church and piety? Why are they needed? What are they used for? Why are they regarded as necessary? Again, such confessional documents play diverse roles in the life of Reformed churches: they fulfill a plurality of purposes, for example: a) they provide the church with a language to proclaim God’s praise, both in liturgy and in ordinary life; b) they become hermeneutical lenses through which to read the scriptures; c) they express identity and thereby contribute to a sense of belonging; d) they help to instruct and form new believers; e) they help the church to distinguish truth from falsehood; and f ) they serve as forms of public witness to Jesus Christ the Lord.21

der Christlichen Lehre, heiligen Sacramenten und Ceremonien in des Durchleuchtigsten Hochgebornen Fürsten unnd Herren, Herrn Friderichs Pfaltzgraven bey Rhein gehalten wirdt, Heidelberg: Mayer, 1563. A Dutch translation already appears in 1566, Kerckenordeninge. Gelijck als die Leere, heylige Sacramenten ende Ceremonien in des Doorluchtichsten Hoochghebooren Vorst . . . ghegolden wort. For historical background and development, see Walter Henns, Der Heidelberger Katechismus im konfessionspolitischen Kräftespiel seiner Frühzeit. Historisch-bibliographische Einführung (Zürich: Theologischer Verlag, 1983), and for the text, Wilhelm Niesel u.a., Hrsg., Bekenntnisschriften und Kirchenordnungen der nach Gottes Wort reformierten Kirche (Zürich: Evangelischer Verlag, 1938), 136–218. 20 For an instructive series of studies on the practical embodiment of the Barmen theses, see volumes published by the German EKU, Zum politischen Auftrag der christlichen Gemeinde—Barmen II (1975), Kirche als ‘Gemeinde von Brüdern’. Barmen III, Bd. I und II (1980), Für Recht und Frieden sorgen: Auftrag der Kirche und Aufgabe des Staates nach Barmen V (1986), Das eine Wort Gottes—Botschaft für alle. Barmen I und VI. Bd. I und II (1993), Der Dienst der ganzen Gemeinde Jesu Christi und das Problem der Herrschaft. Barmen IV. Bd. I und II (1999). 21 Any such typology of uses is, of course, arbitrary, and could be amended or extended. For similar systematic reflection, see for example, Arnold A. van Ruler, Hoe Functioneert de Belijdenis? (How Does the Confession Function?) (Wageningen:

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It should be immediately obvious from these functions—doxological, hermeneutical, identity building, catechetical, discerning, and witnessing—that one particular confessional document may fulfill more than one function simultaneously; or that a document that was originally adopted for one purpose may later—soon, or eventually—serve different purposes, perhaps even to return to its original function under completely changed circumstances. The history of Reformed confessions bears ample witness to such developments.22 These complex ways are also already well illustrated by the rich and intricate functions of the earliest Christian confession, that Jesus Christ is Lord, in the early church and in New Testament documents.23 This slow and complex H. Veenman & Zonen, 1954). In an extremely insightful overview, Lukas Vischer provides a historical rather than a systematic account of the different purposes, functions, and uses of Reformed confessional documents. He distinguishes between successive phases or generations of confessions, during which the documents played different roles, see “Reformed Tradition,” in Bauswein & Vischer, Reformed family, 1–33. Of course, these phases or generations overlapped in many ways. 22 Many Reformed confessions—for example, the three so-called Formulae of Unity originating in the Dutch Reformed tradition—later served completely different purposes in other continents, countries, and churches than the reasons for their original respective births in totally different socio-historical and ecclesial contexts. Likewise, the Theological Declaration of Barmen was born in a moment of intense conflict within church and public life as a witness to the truth that was—according to the confessors—radically at stake in that historical situation; but long afterwards, in completely different and far away places in the world church and under totally different circumstances, it would newly appropriated as an indication of these churches’ sharing in these decisions of faith; it would gradually also be used for instruction as hermeneutical lenses providing new insight into the biblical message; as grammatical rules for the language of faith, worship, and praise; and—sometimes unexpectedly—again as an unmasking of new forms of false teaching, and as an inspiration for new public witness in the face of totally different historical challenges. 23 Initially, it serves as a doxological response to the resurrection, a confession of their [Whose?] deepest faith that Jesus himself is their Lord and God. Precisely because of this claim, it immediately seems to also fulfill a hermeneutical function, as they [Who?] begin to read the Old Testament writings with these lenses, with the conviction; namely, that he is also Lord of creation and history, and that these writings also witness to him. In the Letters written to proclaim the gospel and in the Gospels narrating who Jesus is, this conviction that Jesus is Lord then becomes the content of the proclamation, the preaching and teaching of the early church, in a way that Acts also documents. God has made him Lord and Christ—this is the gospel and this is what they preach. This confession therefore becomes the basis for their unity with one another, irrespective of all other differences and tensions, so that they are called to accept everyone who confesses that Jesus is Lord, since noone can do that without the Holy Spirit, who binds them together, in spite of all divisions and all suspicions. In fact, anyone who denies that he is Lord follows false teachings and proclaims a false gospel, according to the Letters of John. Over against all claims from the side of society, culture, power politics and the economy that the emperor is Lord, the first believers confess, confidently and publicly, even if it results in rejection and martyrdom,

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process of reception forms an integral part of the typically Reformed uses of confessions.

Unity? It should already be clear that the question whether Reformed confessions serve or could serve as instruments of unity is somewhat problematic. They are not primarily intended as instruments of unity. In fact, they should probably not be instrumentalized in any way or for any single purpose. Properly understood, they function in a variety of important ways within the communities of Reformed faith. They can perhaps originate for one main purpose, and gradually change their function and serve other purposes as well. One possible motive behind the question could, of course, be to inquire whether it would not have been better for the unity of the church if the Reformed tradition only had one confession, or at least one corpus of generally accepted, authoritative confessions? Put differently, is the deepest reason for any seemingly lack of unity not precisely the fact of the existence of many confessions, the historical multiplicity, the plurality and even the ambiguity of the Reformed confessional discourse? Does the unity of a church that understands itself as a confessing church not necessitate one common and authoritative confessional body of teaching? Throughout the centuries there have, indeed, been some attempts to reduce plurality and ambiguity, either by harmonizing some Reformed confessions into a single set of teachings, or to compare and reduce the content of the major confessions to an authoritative body of Reformed doctrines and convictions, or even to write one universal Reformed confession and to find ways of attaching some general authority to such a confession. Could the worldwide Reformed community, for example, not find a way to follow the Lutheran world with a common and authoritative confessional corpus, making a strong sense of identity and, in that sense, unity possible? Late in the 19th century, during the early years after the establishment of the (later) World Alliance

that Jesus is Lord. In this way, the confession that began as a doxological response to the resurrection message became a far reaching political claim, resounding throughout the centuries, also in Barmen to Belhar.

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of Reformed Churches, suggestions of this nature were often raised, but always rejected after discussion.24 Not one of these attempts—one body of confessions; harmonized confessions; theology of the confessions; one new common confession—generated any serious interest or support in Reformed circles. They all contradict the very nature of being Reformed, of which living with confessional complexity and dynamics forms a crucial part.25 In 1925 the World Alliance of Reformed Churches again considered the question of whether it was necessary and possible to adopt a universal (common) Reformed creed and asked Karl Barth to prepare a paper on the theme, for their meeting in Cardiff. He strongly rejected the idea. His answer, based on the nature of Reformed confessions, was a radical denial. One common confession is neither necessary nor possible, he argued. In this process, he provided a description of Reformed confessions that became widespread and influential: A Reformed creed is the statement, spontaneously and publicly formulated by a Christian community within a geographically limited area, which, until further action, defines its character to outsiders; and which, until further action, gives guidance for its own doctrine and life; it is a formulation of the insight currently given to the whole Christian church by the revelation of God in Jesus Christ, witnessed to by the holy scriptures alone.26

24 See the useful historical information in Odair Pedroso Mateus, “Towards an Alliance of Protestant Churches? The Confessional and the Ecumenical in the WARC Constitutions I,” Reformed World, Vol. 55/1 (2005), 55–70. 25 For an earlier attempt to summarize the “Grundlinien einer Theologie aus dem Zeugnis Reformierter Bekenntnisschriften,” see Paul Jacobs, Theologie reformierter Bekenntnisschriften in Grundzügen (Neukirchen: Neukirchener Verlag, 1959), especially 81–134; for a more recent attempt, Jan Rohls, Bekenntnisschriften. While Reformed ecumenists such as Lukas Vischer still strongly reject the notion of a common confession for the Reformed faith, other ecumenists such as Hans-Georg Link argue for one universal creed for all Christians and even suggest concrete proposals: see Link, Bekennen und Bekenntnis (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1998), 205–218: “Ein gemeinsames Bekenntnis der Christen ist aus drei Gründen unerläßlich: Erstens brauchen Christen im ökumenischen Zeitalter eine Verständigung darüber, was ihnen am christlichen Glauben gemeinsam und wesentlich ist. Zweitens müssen Christen im Zeitalter der interreligiösen und interkulturellen Begegnungen Nichtchristen verständlich machen können, woran sie miteinander glauben. Drittens brauchen Christen im Zeitalter des Traditionsabbruchs eine neue Glaubensorientierung (regula fidei), die ihnen in festgefügten, einprägsamen und wiederholbaren Worten unserer Zeit den ursprünglichen und wesentlichen Inhalt des christlichen Glaubens vergegenwärtigt,” 205. 26 In his early essays, republished as Vorträge und kleinere Arbeiten 1922–1925. Gesamtausgabe III. (Zürich: Theologischer Verlag, 1990), Karl Barth often dealt with

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An attempt by the world body to proclaim an authoritative universal confession would contradict just about every one of these characteristics of Reformed faith, piety, and life. At the same time, it is also immediately clear that Reformed confessions do indeed serve to promote forms of unity in a variety of very important ways. As doxology they provide the community of faith with a common language of faith—which is of extreme importance, and which most certainly provided Reformed churches and believers with a surprising common language, in spite of what may seem like plurality and ambiguity. As hermeneutical lenses such confessions most certainly provide common practices of seeing, interpreting, proclaiming, and believing the thrust, the message, often called the scopus of the otherwise plural and ambiguous collection which the Bible is (again a major contribution towards an important form of unity, given the claims of the Reformed tradition about the centrality of the Bible). At the same time, the way they are commonly used in instruction within Reformed congregations makes a contribution—both to the instruction of children, young people, and new members with a view to either baptism based on public confession of personal faith, or public confession of personal faith based on baptism, as well as regular and continuous instruction and teaching of the whole congregation.27 The way they are used definitely contributes to a strong sense of identity,

these characteristics of the Reformed tradition, for example in “Das Wort Gottes als Aufgabe der Theologie,” 144–75, “Reformierte Lehre, ihr Wesen und ihre Aufgabe,” 202–47, “Die Kirche und die Offenbarung,” 307–48, “Das Schriftprinzip der reformierten Kirche,” 500–44 and the well-known “Wünschbarkeit und Möglichkeit eines allgemeinen reformierten Glaubensbekenntnisses,” 604–43, from which this description is taken. This description aptly points to several of the key characteristics of Reformed confession: it could only claim to be based on the revelation of God in Jesus Christ, witnessed to by the holy scriptures alone—and not on any other motive or cause, however important or worthy; it is precisely not intended to be ‘Reformed,’ but is addressed to the whole Christian church, as a call and appeal; it gives guidance regarding faith and life; it is both authoritative and provisional—authoritative, but only ‘currently,’ ‘until further action,’ ‘until further notice’; it both defines character and gives guidance, providing orientation regarding both identity and calling. For a very helpful study of Barth’s view of confessions, see Georg Plasger, Die relative Autorität des Bekenntnisses bei Karl Barth (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2000). 27 See the excellent discussion by Michael Weinrich, “Confessing Unity. A Reformed Perspective on Ecumenism,” Reformed World, Vol. 53/4 (2003), 170–180, describing the Reformed tradition as a confessing church, a traditioning church, and a teaching church (and as a teaching church also a learning church, rather than a doctrinal church).

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demarcates community boundaries, strengthens a sense of belonging and calling, in short, builds both selfhood and community. The important fact that confessions are mostly born precisely within moments of confusion and conflict within congregations, churches, and societies means that they are definitely intended to bring clarity, and thereby new agreement, mutual acceptance, and thus a much needed form of unity in historical contexts of division, by naming what is regarded as false teaching and publicly witnessing to what is seen as truth. In short, any answer to the original question will depend to a large extent on one’s hidden assumptions concerning the nature of the unity of the church. The Reformed tradition does not have recourse to many of the forms of unity that other Christian and even other Protestant traditions may have—no central authority, no hierarchical structure, no teaching magisterium, no corpus of infallible doctrine, no common canon of biblical interpretation, no continuous and unchanging liturgical tradition, no charismatic leadership, no basic ethnic or national loyalty, no shared set of religious symbols or legacy of cultic practices, no characteristic kind of religious experience, no special sort of spirituality, not even one common and universal book of confessions. Instead, it is a tradition that claims in radical fashion that it strives to live by ‘the Bible alone’—and then admits that it has no final interpretation of that Bible and no final authority that can guarantee any interpretation, only a plural, ambiguous, and dynamic confessional tradition. This is all the more intriguing because the Reformed tradition takes the unity of the church—in fact, what is called the visible unity of the church—so very seriously. The Reformed faith is deeply committed to practice and embody the unity of the church visibly, as an integral part of its witness and service in the world.28 The tradition has been extraordinarily active in 20th century ecumenism and is deeply concerned about the disunity of its own tradition and of Christianity in general. This may seem like a deep contradiction, since the tradition very deliberately refuses so many almost obvious strategies to 28

Vischer often describes these two seemingly contradicting trajectories in the Reformed tradition, respectively seeking visible unity and confessional dynamism. He often bemoans the recent failure of Reformed churches to take the call to visible unity seriously enough. For similar views—for example, arguing that the so-called pluriformity of denominations should not be regarded as innocent manifestations of organic historical development, but as a failure of Reformed (and Protestant) ecclesiology—see Gerrit C. Berkouwer, Church (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1976).

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find some form of visible unity. The only way that it is willing to follow—namely, the confessing and teaching nature of the church—can indeed seem to serve disunity much more than visible unity. That may, however, be misleading, based on the implicit assumptions about the nature of church unity.

Confessions as Instrument of (Dis)unity? Against this background, is it perhaps possible to respond with more nuance to the initial question? The Reformed tradition is committed to visible unity, yet struggles with the concrete embodiment of this unity.29 The Reformed tradition is a confessional tradition precisely because it does not strive to found the visible unity of the church on anything else but the truth of the gospel, the message of the sola scriptura, the Lordship of Jesus Christ. The confessions are historical and contextual expressions of the many ways in which particular communities heard this Word in their own struggles for unity and obedience in faith and in life. The confessions were most often born in situations of disunity, conflict, and threatening division and separation, and were—most of the time—attempts to find ways of visible unity out of such conflicts— sometimes they were not successful, and even hardened the divisions of faith and life; very often they were helpful, bringing clarity, leading to renewed unity in faith and life, and through diverse processes of recognition and reception united more and more believers, often

29 See the collection of passionate quotations on the unity of the church from Calvin by Lukas Vischer, Pia Conspiratio. Calvin’s Legacy and the Divisions of the Reformed Churches Today (Geneva: WARC, 2000); for more systematic treatments, Willem N. Nijenhuis, Calvinus oecumenicus. Calvijn en de Eenheid der Kerk in het Licht van zijn Briefwisseling (Calvinus oecumenicus. Calvin and the Unity of the Church in Light of his Correspondence) (’s-Gravenhage: Martinus Nijhoff, 1959) and Gottfried W. Locher, Sign of the advent. A study in Protestant ecclesiology (Freiburg: Academic Press Fribourg, 2004). Locher first describes the positions of different 16th century Reformers regarding the visibility and invisibility of the church, including Calvin’s, then analyzes these positions systematically, and finally offers his own proposal based on the essential visibility of the church, with both transformative and significative dimensions. For the commitment of the World Alliance of Reformed Churches, see for example the collections of documents edited by Odair Pedroso Mateus, The World Alliance of Reformed Churches and the Modern Ecumenical Movement (Geneva: WARC, 2005).

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across divides of ethnicity and race, social status and class, country and continent, and time and space. At their best, they were rather seldom proclaimed as political instruments to establish and even enforce mere structural unity based on authority, force, and compulsion. Against original Reformed intentions and practices, they were, however, sometimes—during particular phases and in specific communities and traditions—seen and used in ways that did contribute to disunity, demarcating boundaries and enforcing loyalties in ways that alienated both Reformed believers and communities from one another, and Reformed believers and communities from other Christian believers, communities, and traditions. At their best, Reformed confessions often contributed to living unity in the form of common faith and order,30 shared life and service,31 and joint witness and mission.32 At their best, they contribute to common language of worship and faith, to common understanding of the scopus of scripture, to a shared sense of identity and calling, to instruction and formation in shared faith and life, to jointly discerning truth and falsehood, and jointly and publicly witnessing through words and actions. In these ways, Reformed confessions most certainly serve as instruments of unity, although that was rather seldom their primary intention.33 Interesting exceptions are offered by those confessions that in some way or other made visible church unity their theme, such as Barmen and Belhar in recent history. Both were about ecclesiology (and ethics); both originated in situations where the church was divided on the base of race, and both resisted these ecclesiological understandings and practices; finally, both claimed that faith in Jesus Christ as Lord

30 The crucial question is of course about the practical forms in which this unity both in faith and in order should become visible and should be practiced. Many prefer to speak of processes of recognition and reception, in order to underline the open, dynamic, and living nature of the unity. 31 Since the beginning of the WARC, one of the main purposes driving Reformed ecumenism has always been the concern for social justice, in all its many forms and in diverse contexts. 32 See the very important initiatives of Lukas Vischer behind ‘witnessing in unity,’ for example in Mission in Unity: Towards Deeper Communion between Reformed Churches Worldwide (Geneva: JKIRC, 1993), especially his own essay, 3–14. 33 See, for example, the many helpful essays and studies on the unity of the church (and on the place and function of confessions) from a Reformed perspective by Lukas Vischer, Michael Weinrich, Martien Brinkman, and John Leith.

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should determine the order and life, the ministry and witness of the church, calling thereby for visible unity.34 Did Barmen and Belhar contribute to unity or disunity? Both were responses to situations of deep division in church and society—structural and systemic denials of unity, reconciliation, and justice—which in both cases caused confusion and conflict even in the ranks of those who opposed the divisions.35 At least in the ranks of those who resisted

34 Belhar explains this claim in some detail: “(We believe) that unity is, therefore, both a gift and an obligation for the church of Jesus Christ; that through the working of God’s Spirit it is a binding force, yet simultaneously a reality which must be earnestly pursued and sought, one which the people of God must continually be built up to attain; that this unity must become visible so that the world may believe; that separation, enmity and hatred between people and groups is sin which Christ has already conquered, and accordingly that anything which threatens this unity may have no place in the church and must be resisted; that this unity of the people of God must be manifested and be active in a variety of ways: in that we love one another; that we experience, practice and pursue community with one another; that we are obligated to give ourselves willingly and joyfully to be of benefit and blessing to one another; that we share one faith, have one calling, are of one soul and one mind; have one God and Father, are filled with one Spirit, are baptised with one baptism, eat of one bread and drink of one cup, confess one Name, are obedient to one Lord, work for one cause, and share one hope; together come to know the height and the breadth and the depth of the love of Christ; together are built up to the stature of Christ, to the new humanity; together know and bear one another’s burdens, thereby fulfilling the law of Christ; that we need one another and upbuild one another, admonishing and comforting one another; that we suffer with one another for the sake of righteousness; pray together; together serve God in this world; and together fight against everything that may threaten or hinder this unity; that this unity can take form only in freedom and not under constraint; that the variety of spiritual gifts, opportunities, backgrounds, convictions, as well as the diversity of languages and cultures, are by virtue of the reconciliation in Christ, opportunities for mutual service and enrichment within the one visible people of God.” Other Reformed and Presbyterian churches have similar dynamic understandings of the visibility of the church. Still instructive is the classic description of church unity in the ecumenical movement, decided upon by the World Council of Churches in New Delhi (1961), in the formulation of which the Presbyterian missiologist and theologian Lesslie Newbigin played an important role: “We believe that the unity which is both God’s will and his gift to his Church is beginning to be [pls. check!] made visible as all in each place who are baptized into Jesus Christ and confess him as Lord and Savior are brought by the Holy Spirit into one fully committed fellowship, holding the one apostolic faith, preaching the one Gospel, breaking the one bread, joining in common prayer, and having a corporate life reaching out in witness and service to all and who at the same time are united with the whole Christian fellowship in all places and ages in such wise that ministry and members are accepted by all, and that all can act and speak together as occasion requires for the tasks to which God calls his people. It is for such a unity that we believe we must pray and work.” 35 Retrospectively, the confessional decisions and documents are often wrongly regarded as the causes of the conflict and therefore as instruments of disunity, since not everyone involved in the original confusion and conflict as a matter of course

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the divisive ideologies, systems and practices, both Barmen and Belhar indeed served unity. Within the divided churches and societies, their immediate Wirkungsgeschichte remained controversial, since many were not convinced or committed to the unity for which they pleaded. Outside their original contexts, however, both most certainly served forms of living unity, through growing recognition and reception.36 Perhaps the same has been true through the centuries of most Reformed confessional documents. In a characteristically Reformed way, they serve as instruments of unity—also understood in a Reformed way.

accepts the confessional decision. People easily forget the original conflict and serious disunity that led to confusion and prompted the confession in the first place—the Confessio Belgica, the Canons of Dordrecht, the Theological Declaration of Barmen, the Confession of Belhar, like many others, did not cause the disunity, but were all attempts to bring unity within situations of extreme disunity, attempts that are never fully successful, yet at the same time often do achieve a remarkable form of unity. This is certainly true of both Barmen and Belhar—and the ways in which confessional documents like these are then later received ever more widely in more and more congregations and churches only increase the sense of unity. 36 In the Evangelical Church in Germany itself, the reception of Barmen has not been without internal controversy and debate. From the beginning, it was not regarded and appropriated in all parts of the church in the same way, and many scholars argue that the potential for conflict was already present in the confessing synods and in the Confessing Church, even between the different drafters of the text. Even within the Reformierter Bund (the Alliance of Reformed churches in Germany), in which Barmen was in general taken very seriously, different interpretations are alive, as was demonstrated in the commemorations of 1984 and 2004; see Michael Welker, “Die freie Gnade Gottes in Jesus Christus und der Auftrag der Kirche. Die VI Barmer These: 1934–1984–2004,” epd-Dokumentation 29 (2004), 9–18. For a recent detailed study of the history of its reception in the divided Germany, see Manuel Schilling, Das eine Wort Gottes zwischen den Zeiten. Die Wirkungsgeschichte der Barmer Theologischen Erklärung vom Kirchenkampf bis zum Fall der Mauer (Neukirchen: Neukirchener Verlag, 2005). During the same period, however, Barmen has been received widely and often with moving and inspiring effect in other parts of the world church, and it has become part of the confessional bases of a number of Reformed and Presbyterian churches. Some of this is already also true of Belhar, in spite of its much more recent origin. In Southern African church circles it has played a central role in several reunification processes and events, and although its future status and role in any reunited Dutch Reformed family is still unclear and controversial, it has been received internationally, in different ways, by a number of churches, the latest being the Reformed Church of America in June 2007; and it is being studied very seriously by others, including the Presbyterian Church USA, over a period of several years.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

FORMS OF UNITY OR OF DISUNITY THE CONFESSIONS IN THE RECENT HISTORY OF THE PROTESTANT CHURCH IN THE NETHERLANDS Henk van den Belt

The confessions of the Reformed churches in the Netherlands, the Belgic Confession, the Heidelberg Catechism, and the Canons of Dordt, are sometimes called the Forms of Unity.1 The term ‘unity’ refers to the unity of the catholic and apostolic faith of which the confessions intend to be an expression. In practice, however, the forms can also lead to disunity, as the recent schism in the Dutch churches shows. On the 1st of May, 2004, the Protestant Church in the Netherlands originated as a continuation of the Netherlands Reformed Church (Nederlandse Hervormde Kerk), the Reformed Churches in the Netherlands (Gereformeerde Kerken in Nederland) and the Evangelical Lutheran Church in the Kingdom of the Netherlands (Evangelisch-Lutherse Kerk).2 On that same day the Restored Reformed Church (Hersteld Hervormde Kerk) began—regarding itself as a continuation of the Netherlands Reformed Church.3 More than 100 congregations split. Thousands of members 1 It is difficult to trace the exact source of the Dutch expression formulieren van enigheid, but it was used since the Arminian Controversy. Pastors and professors were obliged to sign the confessions. Church Order of Dordrecht, article 53. Even before the synod of Dordt the Belgic Confession and the Heidelberg Catechism were called the “formulieren der Christelycker eenicheyt.” Ireneus Philaletius [ps. of Ewout Teellinck], Querela ecclesiae. Ofte Clachte der kercke aende overheden des lants (Querela ecclesiae: Or Complaint of the Church to the Government of the Country), (Amsterdam: M.J. Brandt, 1617), 20–22. Cf. W.J. op ‘t Hof (ed.), Belijdenis en verbond: ecclesiologie in de gereformeerde traditie (Confession and Covenant: Ecclesiology in the Reformed Tradition) (Zoetermeer: Boekencentrum, 2003), 68. Possibly the ‘Forms of Unity’ were seen as a Reformed alternative of the Lutheran ‘Formula of Concord’ (1577). 2 For the information on the history of the Protestant Church in the Netherlands cf. www.pkn.nl. Cf. B. Wallet, Samen op Weg naar de Protestantse Kerk in Nederland: het verhaal achter de vereniging (Together on the Way towards the Protestant Church in the Netherlands: The Story behind the Union), (Zoetermeer: Boekencentrum, 2005). 3 Seven churches previously belonging to the Reformed Churches in the Netherlands regrouped in the Continuing Reformed Churches in the Netherlands (Voortgezette Gereformeerde Kerken in Nederland). They opposed the structure of the new

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did not join the merged church because of its pluralistic character. In their opinion, the Netherlands Reformed Church had been exclusively Reformed while the Protestant Church was not Reformed at all.

Historical Remarks The Secession of 1834 (Afscheiding) and the Doleantie of 1886 both protested against the Netherlands Reformed Church’s accommodation to liberalism in doctrine and practice. Many orthodox believers left, but in both cases large numbers of Reformed orthodox members remained.4 One of the main reasons for their faithfulness to the church lay in the official maintenance of the Reformed confessions. Even when William I reorganized the church and replaced the Church Order of Dordrecht by governmental General Regulations (1816), the Reformed confessions remained.5 Though the church was ill, she was still a mother. Underneath the confessional argument to stay within the church lay the trust in God’s covenantal faithfulness and the hope for revival. In a number of local churches, confessional preaching sometimes returned after years, but the orthodox Reformed party remained a minority within the broader ecclesiastical body. In 1961, a group of 18 pastors of the Netherlands Reformed Church and the Reformed Churches in the Netherlands issued an urgent appeal to end the separation between the two churches. After years of discussion concerning theological and ecclesiological motives, in 1986 it was concluded that there were no reasons for continuing separately. There was formal agreement that the churches were ‘in a state of reunion,’ while the responsibility of the local congregations to determine the nature and the tempo of the merger at their level was respected. In terms of the national church, the ‘point of no return’ had been passed. church because the congregation is a branch of the denomination—a model inherited from the Netherlands Reformed Church. 4 For some examples of Reformed pastors who remained in the church in 1834 cf. K. Exalto, W. van Gorsel, and H. Harkema, Zij die bleven: schetsen over leven en werk van acht predikanten die niet met de Afscheiding meegingen (Those who Stayed: Sketches of the Life and Work of Eight Ministers who did not Join the Secession) (Nijkerk: G.F. Callenbach, 1981). 5 Cf. Gedenkboek Gereformeerde Bond tot verbreiding en verdediging van de waarheid in de Nederl. Hervormde (Gereformeerde) Kerk: 1906–1931 (Memorial Volume of the Reformed League for the Propagation and Defense of the truth in the Netherlands Reformed Church) (Veenendaal: De Waarheidsvriend, 1931), 182.

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In the same year, the Evangelical Lutheran Church joined the process; it had been included in the as an observer, but now was accepted as a partner. Initially, the process ‘Together on the Way’ (Samen op Weg) did not have an impact on the orthodox Reformed wing in the Netherlands Reformed Church. The members of the congregations belonging to the Reformed League (Gereformeerde Bond) were skeptical about the course of the Reformed Churches in the Netherlands. In their view, those who had left the church because of its liberalism had become more liberal than the church they had left. The heirs of Abraham Kuyper were not welcomed by the orthodox party that had remained within the Netherlands Reformed Church. The indifference was probably caused by the tendency to focus on problems within the Reformed party itself. The Reformed League was shocked out of its laxity by the first proposal of the new church order in 1992—realizing that the foundational articles of the new church order implied a different kind of church. The united church would no longer be bound to the Reformed confessions. In practice, it is true, the liberal wing never felt bound to them, but the orthodox wing always emphasized that officially the foundation of the church was Reformed. With the merger with the Evangelical Lutheran Church, a new confessional basis would be formed. The new church would replace the God planted church of the Reformation and lack historical and confessional continuity.6 The process was sometimes called “the greatest Secession ever,” and secession was wrong. In 1992 the Reformed League made a statement: “We cannot go away, and we cannot get along.”7

6 Leo Koffeman calls the opinion that the Netherlands Reformed Church is a God planted church a form of circular reasoning in which the Netherlands Reformed Church, with an appeal to God’s providence, is legitimized or even ideologized. L.J. Koffeman, Gestalte en gehalte: oecumenisch-theologische en kerkrechtelijke implicaties van het visitekaartje van de VPKN (Shape and Quality: Oecumenical-theological and Juridical-ecclesiological Implications of the Calling Card of the VPKN) [Kamper oraties, vol. 3] (Kampen: Theologische Universiteit van de Gereformeerde Kerken in Nederland, 1994), 15. 7 In this adage, the general secretary of the Reformed League expressed the tension at a meeting of office bearers in Putten (November 21, 1992). J. van der Graaf, “De Nederlandse Hervormde Kerk los van haar wortels in de geschiedenis: Hervormd gereformeerde ambtsdragers bijeen over Samen op Weg” (“The Netherlands Reformed Church Disconnected from its Roots in History: Reformed Office Bearers Gathered on Together on the Way,”) De Waarheidsvriend (The Friend of the Truth) (1992), 787–791, 789. The original intention was to express that orthodox Reformed members of the church could not get along with liberalism. According to a former chairman of

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The importance of historical continuity was expressed in a Reformed Plea (1994), in which members from a broad spectrum asked the church councils to guarantee the continuation of the vaderlandse kerk (The Fatherland Church) because it was the historical church of the Dutch people.8 In the meantime, the tension between supporters of the first and supporters of the second part of the dilemma grew. In 1995 the Reformed League expressed that it did not intend to break away from the church even if it would merge, but remain in the structure of the new church on the unaltered Reformed confessional foundation. Opponents organized themselves in a Committee to Preserve the Netherlands Reformed Church. They were joined by another group aligned with the weekly publication The Bruised Reed (Het Gekrookte Riet)—a group of members who regarded the Reformed League too liberal in its theological views. The majority of those affiliated with the Reformed League joined the new church—despite their objections. Estimations of the membership of the Restored Reformed Church vary from 35,000 up to 70,000 people in about 120 local congregations. It is unclear how many people refused to join the Protestant Church, since many resisted notifying their withdrawal, assuming that the merging congregations left them behind. The Restored Reformed Church regards itself as the confessional and historical continuation of the Netherlands Reformed Church. Its members disagree with the pluralistic constitution of the merged church which contains, as they see it, contradicting Reformed and Lutheran confessions. The pluriformity of the confessions adopted by the Protestant Church as an inheritance from the merger with the Evangelical Lutheran Church is the main objection against the Protes-

the synod, G.H. van de Graaf, the tension of this often quoted statement was solved in either by not leaving or not joining the new church. G.H. van de Graaf, “Kerks, maar ook kerkelijk? De gereformeerde Bond en het kerkelijk denken” (“Churchgoing, but also Churchly? The Reformed League and Ecclesiastical Reasoning,”) in P.J. Vergunst (ed.), Uw Naam geef eer: honderd jaar Gereformeerde Bond 1906–2006, (Thy Name be Glorified: Centenary of the Reformed League 1906–2006), (Zoetermeer: Boekencentrum, 2006), 34–49, 47. 8 W. Aalders, et al., Hervormd pleidooi: aan de ambtelijke vergaderingen en leden van de Nederlandse Hervormde Kerk (Reformed Plea to the Ecclesiastical Meetings and the Members of the Netherlands Reformed Church) (Leiden: Groen, 1994).

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tant Church; next to that, the declarations on same-sex marriages have also drawn opposition. Congregations have been torn up, and families and friendships damaged. Splitting a church hurts. The official website of the Protestant Church admits that the unification was “not completely without damage. [. . .] Altogether more than 97% of the total membership of the three former denominations is now part of the new Protestant Church. Less than 3% is not.”9 To those involved, it sounds like a pastor encouraging a carpenter who lost his fingers to be thankful that most of his body is left.

Proposed Solutions Of special importance to evaluate the role of the confessions as instruments of unity are the solutions proposed by the synod to solve the tension and to retain the orthodox Reformed wing. First of all, the reactions from the orthodox side led to a change in the text of the foundational articles of the church order. The accepted text says: (3) Involved in God’s turning towards the world, the church, in obedience to Holy Scripture as the one source and norm of the church’s proclamation and ministry, confesses the triune God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. (4) The confession of the church takes place in communion with the confession of our ancestors as formulated in the Apostles’ Creed, the Nicene Creed and the Athanasian Creed—by which the church is joined to the universal Christian church—in the Unaltered Confession of Augsburg and the Catechism of Luther—by which the church is joined to the Lutheran tradition—in the Heidelberg Catechism, the Catechism of Geneva and the Belgic Confession with the Canons of Dordt—by which the church is joined to the Reformed tradition. (5) The church acknowledges the significance of the Theological Declaration of Barmen for its confession today. With the Leuenberg Agreement the church acknowledges that the Lutheran and Reformed traditions come together through a common understanding of the Gospel.10

9

www.pkn.nl Kerkorde en ordinanties van de Protestantse Kerk in Nederland: inclusief de overgangsbepalingen (Church Order and General Regulations of the Protestant Church in the Netherlands) (Zoetermeer: Boekencentrum, 2003), 9. When William I merged the French speaking Waloon Church with the Netherlands Reformed Church in 1816 the Catechism of Geneva was added to the three other confessions, thus there were four Forms of Unity. 10

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The ancient Catholic confessions stand at the highest level, followed by the confessions of the Reformation in chronological order. In the original draft of 1993, the theological Declaration of Barmen and the Leuenberg Agreement were placed in the same article.11 This evoked serious criticism because, contrary to the orthodox Reformed position, the Declaration of Barmen viewed revelation as exclusively Christological and the Leuenberg Agreement relativized the Reformed view of the Lord’s Supper, Christology, and predestination. Moreover, its rejection of the doctrine of reprobation contradicted the Canons of Dordt. According to the Reformed opponents of the union, the church order mixed error and truth together. The church order revealed a relativistic view of the confessions as historical documents rather than as statements of the truth. The separation of the Declaration of Barmen and the Leuenberg Agreement from the confessions expressed that they did not have a confessional status.12 For the Restored Reformed this was not enough. They were of the opinion that placing contradictory Lutheran and Reformed confessions next to each other revealed a relativism and pluralism concerning the truth. They viewed the Leuenberg Agreement as a hermeneutical rule

11 In the proposal of the committee for the church order (1992): “The church acknowledges the significance of the Leuenberg Agreement for the uniting of the Lutheran and Reformed traditions, as well as that of the Theological Declaration of Barmen for its confession today.” Concept Kerkorde van de Verenigde Reformatorische Kerk in Nederland (Concept Church Order of the United Reformed Church in the Netherlands), (Leidschendam: werkgroep Kerkorde SoW 1992). In the official concept for consideration by the classical meetings (1994) the Declaration of Barmen and the Leuenberg Agreement were separated from the confessions. “(5) The church acknowledges the significance of the Theological Declaration of Barmen for its confession today. The church further acknowledges the significance of the Leuenberg Agreement for the continuing encounter of the Lutheran and Reformed traditions.” Werkgroep kerkorde, “Concept kerkorde van de Verenigde Protestantse Kerk in Nederland in eerste lezing met de toelichting” (Study Group Church Order, “Concept Church Order of the United Protestant Church in the Netherlands, First Version with Comments” Supplement to Church Information,) katern bij Kerkinformatie [1] (1994), 1. Cf. J. van der Graaf (ed.), Voor de goede orde: om een bijbels en confessioneel verantwoorde kerkorde (For the Right Order: Regarding a Biblical and Confessionally Sound Church Order) (Heerenveen: Groen, 1997), 8. 12 K. Zwanepol, ed., Belijdenisgeschriften voor de Protestantse Kerk in Nederland (Confessions of the Protestant Church in the Netherlands) (Zoetermeer: Boekencentrum, 2004), 227, 232. Cf. P. van den Heuvel, ed., De toelichting op de kerkorde van de Protestantse Kerk in Nederland (The Comment on the Church Order of the Protestant Church in the Netherlands) (Zoetermeer: Boekencentrum, 2004), 23–24. The official concept for the classical meetings says that they are “not confessions, but meaningful documents.” Werkgroep kerkorde, “Concept kerkorde,” 11.

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for the understanding of the other confessions.13 One of the important arguments against the Augsburg Confession was the rejection of the document by the Dutch Reformed church in the sixteenth century.14 A second solution was offered in the ordinances, the practical regulations of the church order, where a difference in nuance was made between the confessional character of the church as a whole and that of the local congregations. Reformed congregations were particularly connected to the confessions from the Reformed tradition, while Lutheran congregations were particularly connected to those from the Lutheran tradition. All congregations were to acknowledge and respect the particular connection of the other congregations to their specific confessions. These statements made a continuation of the Reformed tradition on the congregational level possible. Reformed and Lutheran congregations kept their identity; no change was forced on any local body.15 From the Restored Reformed side, however, it was emphasized that the price for remaining Reformed locally was the acceptance of pluralism and acknowledgement of and respect for Lutheran opinion’s of truth that contradicted Reformed truth. According to them, being Reformed implied being exclusively Reformed. The proposed solution was deemed a withdrawal to congregationalism and an abandoning of the national Reformed church.16

13 L.W.Ch. Ruijgrok, Om het fundament: de VPKN: een breuk met de geschiedenis van de Nederlandse Hervormde Kerk (Regarding the Foundation: The VPKN: a Breach with the History of the Netherlands Reformed Church), [De kerk op het spel, vol. 1] (Heerenveen: Groen, 1997), 9. Cf. L.W.Ch. Ruijgrok, K. ten Klooster, and R. van Kooten, Om het behoud van de Nederlandse Hervormde Kerk (Regarding the Maintenance of the Netherlands Reformed Church), [De kerk op het spel, vol. 2] (Heerenveen: Groen, 1997), 20–21. The explanation added to the official concept for the classical meetings stated that mentioning the Leuenberg Agreement implies that “the Canons of Dordt are not to be held as the only adequate interpretation of Gods electing acts, even though they are considered as such by important groups within the church.” Werkgroep kerkorde, “Concept kerkorde,” 12. 14 Although William of Orange insisted on its acceptance because of political reasons, the synod of Emden (1571) chose the Belgic Confession instead. Op ‘t Hof, Belijdenis en verbond, 35. 15 Werkgroep Kerkorde, Toelichtingen op de ontwerp-ordinanties behorende bij de ontwerp-kerkorde van de Verenigde Protestantse Kerk in Nederland (Explanations of the Draft Regulations Belonging to the Draft Church Order of the United Protestant Church in the Netherlands) (Zoetermeer: Boekencentrum, 1997), 10. 16 K. ten Klooster, L.W.Ch. Ruijgrok, and C.J.P. van der Bas, Om een gereformeerde kerk (Regarding a Reformed Church) [De kerk op het spel, vol. 5] (Heerenveen: Groen en Zoon, 1998), 14–17.

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The months between the acceptance of the church order and the reunification revealed that for many the Protestant Church was still unacceptable. In that phase, the synod offered the Reformed congregations a final solution in an official statement that as congregations they were allowed to consider themselves, not only particularly connected to, but also bound to the Reformed confessions.17 They could continue in the obedience to scripture as the infallible Word of God and call the church to this obedience. One solution, proposed by the opponents of the merger, was a federation of churches instead of a reunification. This was deemed unworthy of the church of Christ by the advocates of the reunification—although it surely could have prevented the split.

Different Attitudes The difference between the ecclesiological position of the Reformed League in the Protestant Church and that of the Restored Reformed who refused to join the Protestant Church is seemingly small. Nevertheless, the immense impact of this difference in nuance reveals a more fundamental difference in ecclesiology. According to the Reformed League, the confessions are completely integrated in the foundation of the new church. It is possible to be fully Reformed.18 According to the Restored Reformed, the status of the confessions has changed fundamentally in the Protestant Church. It is impossible to be exclusively Reformed. Apparently, there is a different concept of the Reformed faith. Does the Reformed tradition express the truth most fully or does the Reformed position express it exclusively? This difference flows from a different esteem of the character of the church. Originally, the Netherlands Reformed Church 17 After discussions with representatives of the Reformed League and the Committee to Preserve the Netherlands Reformed Church, the synod issued the document “Bound to the reformed confession” (Verbonden met het gereformeerde belijden) with the text of a statement as a helping hand to express how they were taken along in the new church. Some congregations, led by an orthodox classis, went a step further formulating an alternative statement (Covenant van Alblasserdam) in which they expressed that they rejected the Declaration of Barmen and the Leuenberg Agreement. Although the synod made critical remarks, it decided to tolerate this rejection for the sake of the unity of some local churches. 18 J. Hoek, “Belijden en belijdenis,” in P.J. Vergunst (ed.), Licht op de kerk (Light on the Church), (Zoetermeer: Boekencentrum, 2003), 35–45, 43.

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had a strict confessional character with high requirements for its full members. Due to pressure from the government, the churches took over the role of the Roman Catholic church—for instance, in the baptism of children—regardless the confession of the parents. The Dutch Further Reformation can be seen as a reaction against the development from a confessional church (belijdende kerk) towards a national church (volkskerk).19 For the Reformed League, the confessional status of the church is subordinate to its covenantal character and to its public function for the good of all people. According to the Reformed League, it is possible to be bound to the Reformed confessions even if this implies acknowledgement of and respect for the connection of the Lutheran congregations to the Lutheran confessions. For the Restored Reformed, this acknowledgement and respect is a case of conscience. They principally reject membership of a church that requires acknowledgement of statements contrary to the truth. In their view, this acknowledgement and respect also applied to other issues such as the blessing of same sex marriages. This difference in conscience regarding the acceptable measure of tolerance and errors in doctrine and practice within the church reveals a difference in view on the purity of the church. From both sides the Protestant church is seen as impure, but with a different conclusion. For those outside of it the Protestant Church is too impure to be joined, while for those inside of it is not impure enough to be left. According to the latter, a church is only to be left if it is false, and then it will not be left because its faithful members will be excommunicated.20 Remarkably the Restored Reformed did not call the Protestant Church a false church, but a ‘non-church’ because of its pluralistic character. Whereas Christians in other contexts—such as Baptists in Eastern Europe—are acknowledged and respected by the Restored Reformed, even though they reject parts of the Reformed confessions, acknowledgement of and respect for Lutheranism within the Protestant Church became a case of conscience and a reason for separation.21

19 20

Op ‘t Hof, Belijdenis en verbond, 71, 120. G.D. Kamphuis, “Ware en valse kerk,” in Vergunst, Licht op de kerk, 126–134,

129. 21 On this issue cf. H. van den Belt, “Ons geweten en de Schrift,” in Vergunst, Licht op de kerk, 149–156.

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This inconsistency evokes the question if the confessions are the real issue. One of the deeper reasons for the split seems to lay at least partly in the historical discontinuity. The Restored Reformed, which their strong anti-schismatic tradition would probably not have left the Netherlands Reformed Church even if all rejected elements of the Protestant church order, including same sex marriages, were implemented in the church order. In fact, the practice was already allowed for many years. The feeling that the Protestant Church was a new church and a breach with the God-given Dutch history triggered the split. One of the signs for the importance of historical continuity is the issue of the name of the new church. The initial proposal of the committee for the church order ‘United Reformational Church in the Netherlands’ (Verenigde Reformatorische Kerk in Nederland) was already replaced by ‘United Protestant Church in the Netherlands’ in the concept for the classes. After the church order was discussed in the classical assemblies in 1998, the synod of the Netherlands Reformed Church proposed the name ‘United Church of the Reformation in the Netherlands.’ This was not accepted by the partners, however. Only in 2002 did the synods agree on the name ‘Protestant Church in the Netherlands’ after all.22 After the split, the Restored Reformed Church claimed the name ‘Reformed’ for the church as a whole and for the local congregations; only though a legal procedure could the Protestant Church prevent violation of earlier agreements. A court challenge over the issue whether the congregations of the Restored Reformed Church are legally allowed to present themselves as the continuation of the Reformed Church in the Netherlands was decided in favor of the Protestant Church in 2008. Only a few Restored Reformed congregations decided to give notice of appeal against the advice of their synod. What is in a name? In any case, the strong emotions connected to it reveal that underneath theological discussion and confessional debates, feelings of uncertainty, loss, and even of unfaithfulness regarding the heritage of the forefathers play an important role in the ecclesiastical schisms. The feelings are similar on both sides, but the practical conclusion drawn from them is different. While one concludes with pain that God calls him to join the Protestant Church, another concludes

22

Wallet, Samen op Weg, 139, 141, 269–270, 277–279.

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with pain that God calls him to remain Reformed outside of it. Why the one hears the call so differently from the other remains hidden in the deeper motives of the heart.

A Quest for the Truth Some approaches to the confessions reveal a tendency towards relativism regarding the truth of the historical confessional statements. At first sight, it seems to be attractive to nuance a normative reading of the confessions because viewing them as a-historical documents with absolute statements regarding the truth might threaten the unity of the church.23 A looser view, however, does not guarantee unity. The Dutch churches have split exactly because this view was forced on those who had a different concept of truth. In the Reformed tradition, indeed, many local confessions coexist, but they do not contradict each other—although they differ in emphasis.24 This is not the case when confessions from different and mutually excluding positions are placed next to each other. Confessions are relative by nature because 23

Although I agree with most of the view D. Smit advocates in his article “Confessions as instruments of (dis)uity?,” he also tends to relativize the historical confessions. According to D. Smit it is wrong to “regard, read and use them as a-historical documents with timeless and eternal propositions.” Smit says that they have authority, “since they represent the way earlier generations have understood the Word of God.” Would not the earlier generations rather have said that they have authority, since they represent the way the Word ought to be understood? 24 In Dutch church history the discussion whether the confessions are to be believed as far as (quatenus) they agree with scripture, or because (quia) they agree with scripture illustrates the same different concept of truth. Although the quatenus seems closer to the self-understanding of the confessions as subordinate to scripture, the phrase was misused by liberals who felt that the confessions did not agree with scripture at all. Cf. A.J. Rasker, De Nederlandse Hervormde Kerk vanaf 1795: geschiedenis, theologische ontwikkelingen en de verhouding tot haar zusterkerken in de negentiende en twintigste eeuw, 3rd ed. (The Netherlands Reformed Church since 1795: History, Theological Developments, and the Relation with the Sister Churches in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries) (Kampen: Kok, 1986), 41–42. H.B. Weijland refers to the foundation of the Reformed Ecumenical Council where several Reformed confessions are placed next to each other as ‘a body of truth’ despite their differences. But these differences are minor compared to the differences between Lutheranism and Calvinism. H.B. Weijland, Om de vrijheid van het Woord: over het kerkverenigend karakter van artikel I, lid 1–4 van de Ontwerp Kerkorde (Regarding the Liberty of the Word: About the Church-uniting Character of Article I.1–4 of the Draft Church Order) [Kamper oraties, vol. 1] (Kampen: Theologische Universiteit van de Gereformeerde Kerken in Nederland, 1993), 15.

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they are subject to scripture and products of human beings. Nevertheless, the confessors were convinced that their confessions contained a truth for which they were willing to die. The history of the unification that led to the Protestant Church in the Netherlands proves that new confessions can easily become a stumbling block for church unity. It is remarkable that some who relativize historical confessions reject relativism regarding recent confessions. The idea of a status confessionis seems to be reserved for more recent confessional situations—such as Nazi Germany and apartheid in South Africa. A reading of these confessions merely as contextual statements would rightly be deemed unacceptable. Apparently, they express timeless and eternal truth. But why then should statements from the historical confessions be treated differently? The church in a postmodern context is called to unmask relativism and emphasize the unicity of Christ as the Way and the Life and the Truth. To avoid relativistic postmodern misunderstandings of Christianity, churches should be careful not to encourage relativism. It is easier to reject propositional views of truth than to offer adequate alternatives. The unity of the Reformed Forms of Unity is the unity of the truth. The Reformed position does not exclude other Christian positions; but rather, includes them as, at least intentionally, the purest expression of biblical truth. Therefore the acknowledgement and acceptance of Lutheran churches can never be a lawful reason for Reformed Christians to separate themselves from the church. A church that unites the Reformed and Lutheran traditions is a true church—although it might have an impure confession from a Reformed perspective.

CHAPTER TWELVE

GOSPEL DISCIPLINE AND CHURCH (DIS)UNITY IN THE REFORMED TRADITION1 Alan P.F. Sell

In the statement of the theme of this conference, it is said that “ecclesiology did not develop into a major theme within the Reformed tradition.” However true this may be of the tradition at large, it requires serious qualification in relation to the English Reformed experience in its Congregational expression. Indeed, in relation to that tradition, it is correct to say that ecclesiology was always prominent—indeed, it was its raison d’être, and that the quest of godly discipline was among its compelling inspirations. From the time of the English Reformation onwards, there were those who felt that the reform had not gone far enough. While some Puritans were content to remain within the Church of England, more radical ones were not. They became Separatists precisely because they could not agree that the established church was a true church of Jesus Christ. To them, Jesus Christ was the sole head of the church, whereas in the Church of England there was allegiance to Christ, certainly, but also to the monarch as the temporal head of the church. Second, when the Separatist Robert Browne declared that “the Lord’s people is of the willing sort,”2 he meant, positively, that the church comprises those who have voluntarily responded to the covenant—God’s gracious call to be saints; and negatively, that the church is not something into which one can be legislated in the interests of national cohesion in face of enemies—especially Roman Catholic Spain. But, third, if one does not become a Christian simply by being born in England, but by

1 This paper is a modified version of a section of ch. 12 of Alan P.F. Sell, Enlightenment, Ecumenism, Evangel. Theological Themes and Thinkers 1550–2000 (Milton Keynes: Paternoster, 2005). 2 R. Browne, A Treatise of reformation without tarrying for anie (1582), in A. Peel and Leland H. Carlson (eds.), The Writings of Robert Harrison and Robert Browne (London: Allen and Unwin, 1953), 162.

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responding to God’s gracious call to be separate from ‘the world,’ how can one rest content in a church in which godly and ungodly alike receive communion in an utterly undisciplined way? ‘The world,’ the Separatists contended, had invaded the Church of England and turned it into what they called, on a good day, a promiscuous rabble, and on a bad day, Antichrist. The Separatist lawyer, Henry Barrow, could not understand how ministers of the Church of England could “deliver the sacramentes, blesse and dismisse the profane and wicked people in the peace and favour of God, without most high sacrilege . . .”3 Barrow wrote those words from prison, and he was hanged at Tyburn in 1593—one of a number of Separatists to suffer that fate.4 To put it in a nutshell: these harbingers of Congregationalism were concerned to honor Christ as the sole head of the church, and to conceive of the church as a regenerate body living a godly, disciplined life. None of which is music to the ears of those who stand uncritically for inclusivity and against exclusivity in our time. But how inclusive should the empirical church be? That this is a pressing question is illustrated by some remarks of P. Mark Achtemeier: ‘Inclusiveness’ as an abstract concept has frequently been lifted up as the pre-eminent foundation of the church’s unity. Because this concept is an abstraction, what began as a relatively innocuous synonym for the catholicity of the church has drifted in directions leading to a thoroughgoing religious individualism and relativism. The ‘inclusiveness’ of the mainline Protestant churches is now in danger of becoming a completely elastic concept, embracing and affirming every private and idiosyncratic belief system, regardless of whether it stands in any discernible continuity with historic Christian, much less Reformed, faith.5

The Nature and Objectives of Church Discipline It seems beyond doubt that in the New Testament the church comprises the saints, the believers, the called and committed ones and their 3 H. Barrow, A Brief Discoverie of the False Church, in Leland H. Carlson (ed.), The Writings of Henry Barrow 1587–1590 (London: Allen and Unwin), 1962. 4 To date there has been no reconciliation of memories with the Church of England on these matters. This may have something to do with historical amnesia on both sides. 5 P. Mark Achtemeier, “The Union with Christ doctrine in renewal: Movements of the Presbyterian Church (USA),” in William M. Alston, Jr. and Michael Welker (eds.), Reformed Theology: Identity and Ecuemnicity (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003), 343.

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children, all of whom are within God’s covenant. More technically, we might say that the church comprises the regenerate, and we might regret that that concept, when de-Latinized, has become the slogan of a particular brand of ‘born again’ Christians. R.W. Dale, though his specific reference was to Congregationalism, no doubt thought that he was stating the obvious when he declared: “The members of a Christian Church should be Christians.”6 Dale’s ‘should’ is important: we have no grounds for affirming that everyone on our church membership rolls are actually regenerate, or that there are no regenerate persons who are not on such rolls. God alone knows such things, and the New Testament does more than hint at the possibility that we may be in for some surprises.7 What we can clearly affirm is that the Christian family is inclusive of all ages, races, and abilities, and that each should be able to play his or her part in its ministry and mission. In this sense, the church is to be distinguished from the Sunday congregations, which might include unbaptized children, unprofessed adherents, and visitors who belong to other faiths or no faith at all—all of whom should be welcomed. In what follows, I have in mind the church as defined, not the congregation. Questions of inclusion and exclusion have frequently arisen in connection with church discipline, and it should be noted that historically the dissenting traditions differed among themselves over the disciplinary process. Thus, for example, whereas the Westminster Assembly’s Form of Presbyterial Church-Government allows that wider assemblies “have some power to dispense church-censures,” local discipline is for the most part the responsibility of the ruling elders of particular congregations.8 However, the Congregational Savoy Declaration of the Institution of Churches (1658) recommends that private offences be treated privately in the first instance; public offences and private ones not repented of be brought before the whole (local) church, which 6 R.W. Dale, Essays and Addresses (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1889), 184. This is not, of course, to say that God is somehow the church’s exclusive property. His providence is over all, his Spirit everywhere active: we may not exclude him from any part of the created order. See further remarks in Alan P.F. Sell, Confessing and Commending the Faith. Christian Witness and Apologetic Method (Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 2002), 361–63. 7 Matthew 25:31–46; Luke 16:19–31. 8 “The Form of Presbyterial Church-Government and of the Ordination of Ministers,” in The Subordinate Standards and Other Authoritative Documents of the Free Church Of Scotland (Edinburgh: Free Church of Scotland, 1933), 310–11. Cf. “The Westminster Confession of Faith,” ch. XXX.

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must consent to any excommunication.9 The term ‘excommunication’ notwithstanding, it is noteworthy that in Congregational church books there is a reluctance to use it. Rather, offenders are frequently ‘withdrawn from’ lest their poison spread through the body. As for the Presbyterians of Old Dissent: being quite unable to establish presbyteral structures in the wake of the Act of Uniformity of 1662, they had in many cases become de facto independent churches by the eighteenth century, though without the independent polity as represented by church meeting—the ultimate disciplinary organ in Congregational circles. Thus by 1732, in a letter reporting an enquiry into the state of dissent, a writer (almost certainly not a Presbyterian) could say: The Presbyterians very rarely if ever as a church, enquire into the conduct or behaviour of their members, and it is a thing almost as seldom known that they discharge any of them either for heresy or disorderly walking, and if at any time anything of this kind is acted, it is done by the pastor only or by the managers or committee, which terms are made use of in the room of deacons, and for want of proper discipline immoral persons are continued in their societies.10

The church is supposed to be a disciplined body—honoring God and equipped for his mission in the world. As Dale drily remarked, “[it] would be very strange if a Society were instituted merely to preserve the purity of its own membership and a regular succession of efficient officers.”11 In particular, the church is under the discipline of the Word, revealed in the Bible, and savingly active in Jesus Christ, to whom the scriptures witness. Both ministers and members are under the discipline of the Word, as the Westminster Larger Catechism (Q and A 159, 160) rightly insists. In a narrower sense, church discipline concerns the steps taken to ensure that the church lives up to its high calling. In this connection, it must be granted that the ‘policing of some saints’ can be enjoyed too much by some: for example, a pruri-

9

The Savoy Declaration of Faith and Order, 125. The letter is dated 24 February 1731/32. It is at Dr. Williams’s Library, London, MS (RNC) 38.18. It is discussed by Roger Thomas, “The Difference between Congregational and Presbyterian in the chapel-building age,” in Studies in the Puritan Tradition, A joint Supplement of the Congregational and Presbyterian Historical Societies, December 1964, 28–40. The above quotation is from p. 37. 11 Dale, Essays and Addresses, 142. 10

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ent interest in cases of moral laxity was always a possibility in days before the Sunday tabloids and the National Enquirer. But this does not afford grounds for dispensing with discipline altogether. Indeed, some of the classical Reformed statements introduce discipline as the third mark, or note, of the church, alongside the faithful preaching of the Word and the right administration of the sacraments. The marks do not define the church, but they show us where it is. In passing, it is interesting to note that The Common Confession of Faith (1967) of the Council of Churches in Indonesia is one of the few twentieth century confessions to mention discipline: “Church Discipline has as its aims that Christians who have gone astray may return to the way of truth, and that the holiness of the congregation may be protected.”12 The Congregational Declaration of 1967 tiptoes gently and rather vaguely in the direction of discipline when it observes that the challenge to be a holy people: calls for disciplines within the Church’s life, that members may be strengthened when they must offer resistance or make renunciations in face of evil, and the half-hearted may be encouraged to commit themselves more deeply to the standards God expects from his Church.13

Here we have the tested and the half-hearted, but where are the positively naughty? Although fully conceding that church discipline in the sense now under review can be badly mishandled, the positive intention of it should be emphasized. The primary objective is that Christ, the head of the church, be not dishonored by immoral or hypocritical behavior.14 The second is that weaker brothers and sisters be not harmed. The third objective is that the erring brother or sister repent and be restored to fellowship.15,16 John Owen declared that “The ‘nature and

12 L. Vischer (ed.), Reformed Witness Today. A Collection of Confessions and Statements of Faith issued by Reformed Churches (Bern: Evangelische Arbeitsstelle Oekumene Schweiz, 1982), 37. 13 A Declaration of Faith (London: Congregational Church in England and Wales, 1967), 33. 14 Romans 2:23. 15 II Thessalonians 3:14; I Corinthians 5:5; Matthew 18:15; II Corinthians 2:6–8; Galatians 6:1. 16 For church discipline in the New Testament see, for example, Eduard Schweizer, Church Order in the New Testament (1959) (London: SCM Press, 1961).

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end’ of church discipline is ‘corrective,’ not vindictive,—for healing, not destruction. . . .”17 It is of supreme importance that two principles be kept firmly in mind. First, church discipline is discipline under the gospel. This implies that both legalism and antinomianism are ruled out. Christianity is neither a new set of rules, nor an inducement to free-wheeling license. Second, the will of the Lord of the church is paramount, and this should sincerely be sought. “The right and arbitrament is the Lords, not the servant’s,” declared Tertullian.18 In his wake came Robert Browne: “[By] his discipline and government [Christ] hath over us, he is our king. . . . So if we sever Christ and his discipline, rule, and government, what is he but an Idol Christ?”19

Church Membership Questions of inclusion and exclusion arise especially in connection with the confirmation or reception of church members, doctrine, and morals. Let us consider each of these in turn. Although the number and names of the elect are known to God alone, the church is called to be a visible sign and foretaste of God’s kingdom in the world. The saints are earthed; and the only way to be a member of the church catholic is to be a member of the church local. One cannot be a Christian ‘in general,’ and this fact in itself entails a measure of discipline.20 Listen to the Congregational historian, Bernard Lord Manning:

17

J. Owen, “The True Nature of a Gospel Church,” in The Works of John Owen, William H. Goold (ed.) (1850–53) (London: The Banner of Truth Trust, 1968), XVI, 171. 18 Tertullian, De Pudicita, XXI. 19 R. Browne, “An Answere to Master Cartwright His Letter” (1585?), in The Writings of Robert Harrison and Robert Browne, A. Peel and Leland H. Carlson (eds.) (London: Allen & Unwin, 1953), 461. 20 I have developed this theme in a number of places. See, for example, Saints: Visible, Orderly and Catholic. The Congregational Idea of the Church (Geneva: World Alliance of Reformed Churches and Allison Park: Pickwick Publications, 1986); Commemorations. Studies in Christian Thought and History (1993) (Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 1998), ch. 13; Testimony and Tradition. Studies in Reformed and Dissenting Thought (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005), ch. 11. It is, I believe, biblically and theologically defensible. In the English political context it gained a new lease of life with the Separatists and their Congregational and Baptist successors.

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You say you love Christ’s Church. Well, here it is: Tom, Dick, Harry, and the rest; a funny lot of lame ducks. . . . They are not very good. But they have, in their own odd ways, heard Christ’s call. They have trusted in Christ on His Cross. It is little use your feeling mystical sympathy with St. Francis who is dead, with St. Somebody Else who never existed, with men of good will all over the world whom you are quite safe from meeting. If you do not love your brothers whom you have seen . . . you cannot, in fact, love those brothers (whom you call the Church) whom you have not seen.21

Manning went on to point out that in the remark quoted he was simply updating John Owen: Let none pretend . . . that they love the brethren in general, and love the people of God, and love the saints, while their love is not fervently exercised towards those who are in the same church with them. Christ hath given it you for a trial: he will try you love at the last day by your deportment in that church wherein you are.22

But what are the criteria for the confirmation or reception of members? Traditionally, these have concerned a profession of faith in Christ as Savior and Lord and evidence of a ‘godly walk.’ In this matter the addition of locally devised ‘small print’ can lead in the direction of new Galatian heresies, that is to say, of the imposition of ‘new circumcisions’ whether doctrinal or ethical: You must be a Calvinist, or a teetotaller, to belong to this church. No doubt a good case can be made for both of these positions, but endorsement of them should not be elevated into terms of church membership, for they would then take equal place with, if not precedence over, confession of faith in Christ as Savior and Lord as the term of membership, and would reduce the church to a theological party or a specific social crusade. But let us not judge churches on the basis of their more idiosyncratic ways. In general, it is true to say that, traditionally, great care was taken over the reception of church members.23 Inclusion among the visible

21 Bernard Lord Manning, Why not Abandon the Church? (1939) (London: Independent Press, 1958), 37–38. 22 Goold (ed.), The Works of John Owen, IX, 262. 23 I use the term ‘reception of members’ in preference to ‘confirmation,’ since it is what one finds in the first centuries of dissenting church life. In dissenting circles the latter term has come into use (and not yet universally—in some cases because it is what the Church of England does!) only under the influence of the twentieth century ecumenical movement. In common parlance people would speak of ‘making members’ on candidates’ profession of faith. In fact, however, they were already within the covenant, and baptism, whether of infants or believers, witnessed to this.

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saints was by no means automatic. The primary criteria, to repeat, were a credible confession of faith in Christ supported by a ‘godly walk.’ Thus in the 1670s the church at Bedford, under the pastoral care of John Bunyan, recorded their practice thus: The principle upon which they thus entered into fellowship with one another, and upon which they did afterwards receive those that were added to their body and fellowship, was ffaith in Christ and Holiness of life, without respect to this or that circumstance or opinion in outward and circumstantiall things. By which meanes grace and faith was incouraged, Love and Amity maintained, disputings and occasion to janglings and unprofitable questions avoyded, and many that were weake in the faith confirmed in the blessing of eternall life.24

As to the procedure adopted, Stephen Ford’s Epistle to the Church of Christ in Chippin-Norton [sic] (1657) is instructive: That when any persons are desirous to joyne themselves to the church; the said persons should first make known their desires to the Pastor or Elders. . . . That if the Pastor or Elder be satisfyed . . . (he) is to propose the said persons to the Church at their next meeting. That all the members . . . are upon Scripture grounds to be satisfyed in the fitnesse and worthiness of the person to be admitted; & also to give their free consent. . . . That such persons as through modesty, or want of the gift of utterance, cannot by word of mouth declare the dealings of God with them to the satisfaction of the Church, that then the said persons have liberty to give satisfaction to the Church in writing, or otherwise.25

If local churches took the reception of members seriously, there is a good deal of evidence to suggest that those seeking reception were likewise very much in earnest. John Pye Smith, for example, agonized over the matter for months. Some time after making his personal covenant with God, we find him writing on 23 September 1791:

Thus candidates were members being received, or ‘admitted’ to the full privileges of church membership, including attendance at the Lord’s Table and, in Baptist and Congregational churches, attendance at Church Meeting. 24 Quoted by R.H. Coats, John Bunyan (London: SCM Press, 1927), 54. Bunyan and his church never made believer baptism by immersion a term of church membership. A number of churches in the Bedford area adopted a similar position and to this day Bunyan Meeting, Bedford, and other churches, continue in Bunyan’s line on this matter. 25 Quoted by K.W.H. Howard (ed.), The Axminster Ecclesiastica 1660–1698 (Sheffield: Gospel Tidings Publications, 1874), 240.

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I am this week to confer with Mr. Brewer about that serious duty, Church fellowship. O may the Lord preserve me from all rash, hasty proceedings! May he give me his blessing! I would commit this, and all my ways, to the hands of my faithful and compassionate Redeemer. O mould my spirit at thy will. Amen and amen.26

Not until 21 November 1792 did he write to the church in these terms: If it shall seem good to this Church of Christ to admit me into communion with them in divine ordinances, I solemnly call upon, and earnestly intreat every individual to deal faithfully with me; to warn, advise, reprove, and in every respect to watch for my soul, as we shall assuredly give an account to the Great Head of His body, the Church.27

Pye Smith was duly received, and went on to become a distinguished minister. Interestingly, he became the first pastor of Clapton Park Congregational Church, London, and its first Minute Book, in his hand, records the reception of a member on 2 July 1807 thus: Elizabeth Whitwell, one of the children of this church, gave a satisfac-tory account of her hope towards God and her experience of personal religion, which was corroborated by pleasing testimonies to the Christian propriety of her habitual deportment. She was, therefore, unanimously advanced to the full enjoyment of all the privileges of church-communion.28

By contrast, it would seem from an anonymous observation of 1821 that in some quarters at least standards were slipping: No person used to be admitted into the church without being examined as to knowledge and experience publicly, before a considerable congregation; and, yet, it was scarcely ever known, that any person was deterred from offering himself as a candidate for communion, on account of the strict mode of admission.29

Two decades later, the prominent Dr. Robert Vaughan, took a somewhat less rigorous view:

26 John Medway, Memoirs of the Life and Writings of John Pye Smith, D.D., LL.D., F.R.S., F.G.S., Late Theological Tutor of The Old College, Homerton (London: Jackson and Walford, 1853), 21. 27 Medway, Memoirs, 23. 28 Quoted by Albert Peel, “A Congregational church’s first pastorate,” Transactions of the Congregational Historical Society, 10 no. 5, April 1929, 237. Peel’s second pastorate was at Clapton Park, 1922–34. 29 The London Christian Instructor, or Congregational Magazine, 4, 1821, 338–9.

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alan p.f. sell [The] practice of requiring candidates to make their appearance at the church-meeting at the time when their names are approved, though very seemly and good in itself, I would rather we should be understood to recommend than to enforce. . . . While resolved not to open the doors of the church to the worldly, we should be careful that we do not close them against Christians.30

There can be no doubt that the kind of testimony expected when one ‘gave in one’s experience’ at Church Meeting caused some prospective members considerable distress, and in some cases there may have been undue psychological pressure to deliver the ‘right kind’ of testimony. During the months when he was in turmoil over whether to proceed to reception, Pye Smith wrote, “I was firmly persuaded that I could never have real religion unless I experienced far greater degrees of terror than I had yet known.”31 In a word, to use the ‘language of Canaan’ of those times, he needed to feel more ‘worm like’ and to have struggled longer in the ‘miry clay’ before being rescued by the Savior. A similar well documented case is that of the rumbustious Joseph Parker (1830–1902) of London’s City Temple. Having been raised in a climate of evangelical testimonies, Parker the teenager feared that his sins were not sufficiently serious, and therefore that his repentance would not be sufficiently telling: “So I stood outside the gate, crying bitter tears, because I had not sinned according to the magnitude and quality of another man’s transgression.”32 (We should not, of course, conclude that testimonies couched in steryotypical language are, by that fact, necessarily insincere. The problem arises when candidates for reception as members seek what they regard as qualifying experiences of specific, approved, kinds, and worry if they do not receive them). So much for inclusion within the church fellowship; but what of exclusion? However disciplined a church may be in receiving mem-

30 R. Vaughan, Congregationalism: or, the Polity of Independent Churches, Viewed in Relation to the State and Tendencies of Modern Society (2nd edn., London, 1842), 197–200. Not even Vaughan would have endorsed a much more recent, hopefully apocryphal, view of the matter: a candidate for reception as a member was advised, “Just have a word with the minister on the golf course—but make sure he wins!” Vaughan’s remark calls to mind the earlier one of Richard Baxter: “I am not so narrow in my principles of Church communion as once I was. . . . I am not for narrowing the Church more than Christ himself alloweth us, nor for robbing him of any of his flock.” See The Autobiography of Richard Baxter (abridged) (London: Dent, 1931), 116. 31 Medway, Memoirs, 22. 32 Quoted by Albert Dawson, Joseph Parker, D.D. His Life and Ministry (London: Partridge, 1901), 22.

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bers, the fact remains that the saints are also sinners. What is to be made of this in cultures and contexts which proclaim inclusivity as a virtue and exclusivity as a vice? Those of such a mindset will regard ‘suspension from communion’ and, still more, ‘excommunication’ as disasters to be avoided at all costs; yet it is arguable that occasions may arise, and in fact do arise, when, in the interests of honoring God and maintaining the peace and integrity of the church, such actions may regretfully be required, though always with the hope of restoration. Traditionally, the main grounds for the suspension or excommunication (withdrawing from) members were doctrinal and moral. I shall present a few cases to illustrate each in turn.

Doctrine It would seem from the records and writings I have consulted that the candidate’s experience and way of life were the paramount criteria of reception, but in many places catechizing preceded and followed reception,33 with the result that doctrinal considerations were never very far away. They were, indeed, on occasion the cause (or in some cases the pretext) for secession, and some ministers found to their cost just how sensitive the doctrinal antennae of some members of their flocks could be. In 1809 Jacob Martell arrived at the Congregational church in Heathfield, Sussex, as co-pastor with George Gilbert. However, within a year Martell “embraced the Sentiment of Adult Baptism by Immersion and was ejected.”34 In 1810 the church declared that Baptists who requested the privilege might become occasional communicants, but they were “not to have a Voice in the affairs of the Church.”35 By contrast, in the following year the church at Clapton Park received as members the former Baptist deacon, Thomas Pilby Burford, and his wife, Elizabeth, as members. The relevant resolution contains nine careful clauses, of which the fifth is the crucial one:

33 Richard Baxter was especially committed to this aspect of ministry. See Alan P.F. Sell, Testimony and Tradition, ch. 3. 34 Quoted by N. Caplan, “Free will or election: conflict in a Sussex church, 177–78,” The Journal of the United Reformed Church History Society, 1 no. 5, May 1975, 151. 35 Quoted by Caplan, “Free will or election,” 151.

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alan p.f. sell That the difference of sentiment between us and Mr. And Mrs. Burford, as to the right of the infant seed of God’s people to the ordinances of church-membership and baptism (though the affirmative of that question is considered by us as a scriptural doctrine and an important privilege), yet cannot, on solid and scriptural grounds, be made a bar to the communion of saints.36

In the following clause, and in return for this ‘forebearance,’ the saints “confidently rely on a correspondent disposition in Mr. And Mrs. Burford, and that they will candidly avoid the introduction of discussions on the question of baptism as what, under these circumstances, could not contribute to godly edifying and holy love.”37 Precisely the same attitude was adopted by R.W. Dale of Carrs Lane church in the staunchly Nonconformist town of Birmingham—twenty of whose mayors in a period of forty years in the nineteenth century were Unitarians, and whose ministerial inheritance included Samuel Bourn and Joseph Priestley. Dale explained in a letter of 6 February 1885 to T.C. Finlayson that he would be willing to receive a Unitarian as a church member on the ground that a person may have the faith that saves while denying the divinity of Christ.38 This was consistent with what Dale had written in his celebrated Manual of Congregational Principles: A Christian society which imposes any other condition of membership than faith in Christ is a sect, and not, in the highest sense of the term, a Christian church. It is a private Christian club. It receives persons into membership, not because they are the brethren of Christ, but because they are the brethren of Christ professing certain religious opinions or observing certain religious practices. . . . It is a society not for all Christians, but for a particular description of Christians. It is a sect—not a Church.39

This, while it rightly warns against the imposition of new ‘Galatian heresies,’ does not really answer the question concerning the proclamation of the church as a community of faith. There are ‘babes in Christ’ who are not yet ready for strong doctrinal meat; there are members whose commitment to Christ is not in doubt, but their opinions on 36

Quoted by Peel, “A Congregational church’s first pastorate,” 239. Quoted by Peel, “A Congregational church’s first pastorate,” 239. 38 See A.W.W. Dale, The Life of R.W. Dale of Birmingham (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1899), 344–45. 39 R.W. Dale, A Manual of Congregational Principles (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1884), 50. 37

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certain doctrinal matters are distinctly odd, even heterodox; and none of us will gain entry to heaven by the ‘work’ of reciting a doctrinally sound confession of faith to which we sincerely assent. But, as D.W. Simon observed, it is one thing for a church member to hold heterodox opinions, it is another for him or her to propagate them within the fellowship: Suppose . . . that an individual member of an individual Church notoriously and plainly not only entertains, but actually propagated Unitarianism, i.e., in other words, gives himself up to active dishonesty, are [the church members] to do nothing but protest? It seems to me that duty to Christ, themselves, and the erring brother, requires, first, admonition, then formal separation, either of him from the Association, or of the Association from him, i.e., disfellowshipping. But you can’t do this unless a certain body of doctrine is a constitutive factor of Congregationalism. . . .40

With Dale’s general view, and with Simon’s qualification, I have considerable sympathy. ‘Galatian’ sectarianism is to be avoided; the ‘faith once delivered is to be upheld.’ There is a faith commonly agreed among the saints, and this should be respected or, after due consultation, amended. For my final doctrinal incident, I offer an autobiographical reminiscence by way of showing that there is more than one way of handling doctrinal divergence. I was present at a service in North Street Congregational Church, Guildford, in the late 1940s. In the absence of the minister the service was conducted by the Reverend John P. Stephens, a small, puckish man of considerable intelligence and keen wit. The theme of his sermon was fidelity to the faith once delivered to the saints. Clearly possessed of knowledge gained in advance, at one point the proceedings went as follows: It is remarkable the strange beliefs that some quite intelligent people will fall for. I have even heard that in this district there are those who have succumbed to British Israelite doctrine. [Pause; palpable silence; shocked expression on face]. Have I dropped a brick? [Pause; peering intently around the congregation]. Did it hit anyone?41

40 F.J. Powicke, David Worthington Simon (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1912), 230–31. 41 I quote from memory—but it is hard to forget. For Stephens (1884–1953) see the obituary in The Congregational Year Book (London: Congregational Union of England and Wales, 1955), 525–26, which confirms (526): “His sermons were thoughtful and deep, illustrated most aptly, in delivery fresh and lively, and progressive in outlook.” In

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What a delightful example of the ‘softly softly’ method of church discipline!

Morality In Congregational church books, moral cases greatly outnumber doctrinal ones. For all his abhorrence of legalism and sectarianism, Dale rightly insisted that “the right to ‘excommunicate’ the irreligious appears to be essential to the very existence of the Church.”42 At their best the saints knew that they must not take cases of moral discipline with anything other than due seriousness; they also knew that a primary objective was the repentance and restoration of the offender. The Congregationalists at Axminster kept careful records of some disciplinary cases. In the 1670s Robert Bull stole a sheep from a neighbor and, when challenged, denied the offence. He was brought before the church, and the pastor preached on Joshua 7:25, concerning the stoning of an offender. Perhaps not surprisingly, “it was a day of trembling of soul, trouble and heaviness indeed to many.” When called upon to acknowledge his sin and repent, Bull remained silent. This brought a further exhortation from the pastor, who ended with a word to the congregation: Brethren, know your duty, to admonish him, and call upon him to repentance; know your duty, to abstain from affectionate communion with him till he doth repent, but still to pray for him and put on bowels for him. The Lord give a blessing to this institution of His for the saving benefit of the whole body.43

The proceedings concluded with the renewing of the covenant. Between circa 1669 and 1698 Axminster members were disciplined for lying, stealing, fraud, drunkenness, disorderly walking, enthusiasm,

a different context, Albert Peel showed himself able to pour a little wit over doctrinal strife. With reference to the Modern Free Churchmen’s Union, whose base of activity was at the Blackheath Congregational Church, London, and to Nathaniel Micklem of Mansfield College, Oxford, he wrote: “So far as I see them, most Congregationalists are not disposed to wander with the wizards on the Blackheath, not do they propose to fall down and worship the dogmatic image which Nathaniel the principal has set up.” Inevitable Congregationalism (London: Independent Press, 1937), 113. 42 R.W. Dale, Essays and Addresses (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1899), 134. 43 Howard, The Axminster Ecclesiastica, 52–55.

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evil relationship, immodesty, and adultery.44 During the same period, Brother Campion was called before the Congregational church at Rothwell, Northamptonshire, for “proferring love to a Sister, when engaged to another.” The same church acted against dancing, card playing, other games, and secular songs.45 It would seem that on occasion ministers used church discipline to their own advantage. Thus Samuel Newton, of the Old Meeting, Norwich, wearing a full-bottomed wig, and accustomed to smoke a pipe on the way to worship—ruled his flock with rather high-handed notions of clerical authority. . . . [W]hen he received a memorial complaining of certain things in his ecclesiastical administration, he proposed and accomplished the excision of the memorialists from the roll of membership.46

Conclusion Experience suggests that the methods of preparing and receiving church members vary widely within the Reformed family, and that particular challenges arise where local ecumenical partnerships comprising more than one covenanted denomination are concerned. It may well be that in the more settled communities of the past, the obligation to instruct and receive church members was more easily fulfilled than in more mobile societies—especially those in which consumerism is rampant. It is undeniable that many people today find their way to a church because of its location, its music, its preaching, its child care facilities, rather than because they affirm the distinctive principles of the denomination named on the notice board (and such principles may be held with varying degrees of conviction or emphasis within any given denomination). They may come from other Christian traditions or from none. But all who come are warmly to be welcomed and encouraged to assume the responsibilities of membership. This entails careful preparation with a view to their reaffirming or professing their

44

Howard, The Axminster Ecclesiastica, 242–43. See John Taylor, “The survival of the Church Meeting,” Transactions of the Congregational Historical Society, 21 no. 2, December 1971. 46 John Stoughton, Reminiscences of Congregationalism Fifty Years Ago (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1881), 6–7. 45

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faith, as the case may be; and so that they understand our ways and thus are able to participate fully in the church’s life. The old combination of sincere profession of faith evidenced by a ‘godly walk’ is by no means redundant if we still believe that the church visible (ideally) comprises the regenerate, and that its proclamation and the lives of its members should be God honoring. If we are content with nominal membership we may find that in the end our churches have become so identified with the prevailing culture that they have become more like dough than yeast.47 We should then be unable to make the counter-cultural witness that may be required of Christ’s saints, who are called to be in the world but not of it. It is hardly necessary to add that the most appropriate way of making such a witness is not by haranguing ‘the world’ as from an Olympian height of moral rectitude (the saints, after all, are also sinners), but by proclaiming good news to ‘the world’ and by serving its people with generosity and its institutions with discriminating zeal. In the time at my disposal, I have, traditionally enough, concentrated on discipline within the local church. The questions how far a wider churchly body may discipline a local church; or whether a Christian world communion is a churchly body and, if so, how far it may discipline a member church, are questions to which the Reformed family as a whole has thus far given no final answer. I suspect, however, that any such discipline would fail to achieve its objectives—and deservedly so, if ‘top down’ authoritarianism were favored over that mutual episcope which ought to characterize all relationships within the local church and between it and the wider family of Christ, and which is rooted in the common quest of the mind of Christ. However, these broader questions may be resolved, sufficient has been said to suggest that in matters of church membership, both inclusion and exclusion are matters too important and too pastorally delicate to make blanket sloganizing appropriate. Nor are disciplinary issues of concern only to the individuals involved. The honor of God and the unity and peace of the church are at stake. As Calvin said,

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Matthew 13:33; Luke 13:21.

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all who desire to remove discipline or to hinder its restoration—whether they do this deliberately or out of ignorance—are surely contributing to the ultimate dissolution of the church.48

No doubt this would be regarded as a hard saying in more wantonly inclusive, ‘feel good,’ circles at the present time. This only serves to underline its importance.

48

J. Calvin, Institutes, IV.xii.1. For the development of Calvin’s ideas on discipline see Richard R. De Ridder, “John Calvin’s views on discipline: A comparison of the Institution of 1536 and the Institutes of 1559,” Calvin Theological Journal, 21 no. 2, November 1986, 223–30.

PART THREE

ECUMENICAL EXPLORATIONS ON THE UNITY OF THE CHURCH

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THE HEALING OF MEMORIES FINDING ONE ANOTHER AGAIN IN CHRIST Jeffrey Gros

When I cycled down the Danube in 1995 to the shrine that now marks the tragic battle between Turks and Austro—Hungarians at Mohács (1526) in present day Hungary at the Serbian border, I said a prayer for the reconciliation of the peoples of this region so burdened by suffering and memories of violence, for the reconciliation of the Christian peoples in Christ, for reconciliation of Muslim and Christian peoples in the one God, and for all of the peoples of central Europe and the Balkans who have suffered so much over the centuries. Indeed, this Hungarian part of present day Romania where we meet near Toda is a place where, also, the first sense of tolerance emerged, with the 16th century Pax Transylvania, acknowledging four Western churches, and finally Orthodoxy. We can hope that the modern ecumenical movement, which the Catholic Church joined in 1964 at the second Vatican Council, may begin the process of healing painful memories and building bridges of faith and bonds of communion which will help the next millennium reverse the animosities of the last 500 years. The iconography of the Orthodox patriarchal residence in Bucharest sums up an experience hardly imaginable for those of us who have been raised side by side in the United States. It shows Roman martyr Demetrius’ tomb flanked on one side by the violence of Turkish invasion and on the other murderous Hapsburg troops, both wreaking havoc on the Romanian Orthodox people. This sense of being caught in between is precisely the experience of the Reformed Christians of Central Europe, and especially in Transylvania. For the Catholic Church, the Declaration on Religious Liberty (1965) marks a basis from which the healing of memories can begin. During the height of that discussion, Easter European Reformed relations were the key focus in the debate. Cardinal Beran of Prague, recently released from Marxist prison at the time, rose to say how important

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this statement on freedom was for the healing of the Czech people, who were still suffering the painful burden of Hus’ murder and the forced reconversion of so many of the Bohemian people. One only has to look at the trial of Hus and the Battle of the White Mountain pictured in Prague’s city hall to realize the weight of these painful memories upon the present imagination of our people, a burden of history unimaginable to most in our New World. In this brief essay I would like to note three things: 1) Catholic ecumenical commitments, 2) the progress of the Reformed Catholic dialogue, and 3) some specific challenges.

Catholic Entry into the Modern Ecumenical Movement As Catholics we are particularly appreciative of the Reformed churches and colleagues that have assisted us in becoming involved in the modern ecumenical movement, especially during the period of the second Vatican Council (1962–1965) and its reception through engagement in World Council discussions, bilateral dialogues, and national councils around the world. The names of W.A. Visser t’Hooft, Lukas Vischer, Robert McAfee Brown, Douglas Horton, and a host of others come to mind. The ‘observers’ at the council became important advisors, especially in the debates on religious freedom, divine revelation, appropriate ecumenical theology, and strategies of reception. Likewise, as we look at the Reformed traditions, especially those churches that are presbyterially ordered, we see a shepherding of the collegial, communal, and participatory dimensions of catholicity that have been somewhat muted in more recent Catholicism. We recognize and learn from appropriate roles of synodical government, lay participation in governance, and the balance between communal and personal expressions of episcope so well developed among many of our Reformed fellow Christians. We have also found our Reformed colleagues appreciative of the support of personal episcope when local bishops or the pope enables our communal voice to provide focused leadership. I always recommend that newly forming parish councils observe their neighboring Presbyterian sessions/consistories to understand the responsibilities, processes, and vision whereby participatory structures of ministry effectively serve the church and preserve communion between the congregation and other dimensions of the church’s life. In US ecumenical life, Reformed Christians have some-

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times been able to see the importance of bishops, especially as they help focus the voices of the marginalized; for example, in our African American Methodist churches. It is my view that in our five centuries of alienation from one another, the loss of a vibrant conciliar and collegial dimension to our Catholic life was one of the tragedies of the Reformation. We can be grateful that our Reformed colleagues and the Reformed Catholic dialogue have helped us to reappropriate these dimensions of the catholic tradition reaffirmed at the second Vatican Council. We likewise hope to see the day when more universal conciliar and personal forms of common witness may emerge among us. Of course, we are also appreciative of the patience of our ecumenical partners in the gradual process of reception of the council. As those in Central and Eastern Europe know so well, the process of reception of the 16 documents of the council could only begin in depth with the changes that have come about after 1989. At the end of the council, the primate of Poland confided to Pope Paul VI that he expected the council to have a minimal effect on the renewal of the church in his country. Indeed, after the changes and opportunities following 1989, there were voices in Slovakia and Poland that would have welcomed a return to the hegemony of the Catholic Church as it had been prior to 1965. This desire for the preference of the Catholic Church in society was definitively put aside in the Declaration on Religious Freedom. Developments in those countries where the Catholic Church was able to influence constitutional reform and the instigation of freedom for all in matters of religion, testify to this dramatic change in Catholic policy, one necessary for ecumenical equality in civil society. In Romania, for example, not one of the bishops was allowed to attend the council, and many of the Eastern Catholic bishops were confined to prison during that period. When I visited the nuncio in Bucharest in 1993, it was clear that the reception of the Catholic vision of ecumenism had only just begun.

Our Common Vision The passion for unity is at the very center of Catholic identity, so very much so, that to Protestants more complacent with post-Reformation fragmentation, Catholic ecclesiology seems to be more ecclesio-centric

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than Christo-centric. Catholicism recognizes the real, if imperfect, communion that exists with other Christian churches, and therefore is on a pilgrimage with them toward that unity for which Christ prayed (Jn 17:21). In this, it shares with other Orthodox, Anglican, and Protestant churches the goal of the ecumenical movement as articulated in the World Council of Churches: “[T]o proclaim the oneness of the Church of Jesus Christ and to call the churches to the goal of visible unity in one faith, one Eucharistic fellowship, expressed in worship and common life in Christ, in order that the world might believe.” Reformed and Catholic churches have worked together for forty years to articulate a basis for Christian unity within the context of the international Faith and Order Movement. In 1991, the World Council of Churches (WCC) articulated such a vision in The Unity of the Church as Koinonia: Gift and Calling, enumerating specific elements needed for full communion: The unity of the church to which we are called is a koinonia given and expressed in 1) the common confession of the apostolic faith; 2) a common sacramental life entered by the one baptism and celebrated together in one eucharistic fellowship; 3) a common life in which members and ministries are mutually recognized and reconciled; and 4) a common mission witnessing to the gospel of God’s grace to all people and serving the whole of creation. The goal of the search for full communion is realized when all the churches are able to recognize in one another the one, holy, catholic and apostolic church in its fullness. This full communion will be 5) expressed on the local level and the universal levels, through conciliar forms of life and action. In such communion churches are bound in all aspects of life together at all levels in confessing the one faith and engaging in worship and witness, deliberation and action.1

We also recognize together the long road ahead to recognition of one another as churches, as the last Assembly of the WCC reminded us: In God’s grace, baptism manifests the reality that we belong to one another, even though some churches are not yet able to recognize others as Church in the full sense of the word. We recall the words of the Toronto Statement, in which the member churches of the WCC affirm that “the membership of the church of Christ is more inclusive than the membership of their own church body. They seek, therefore, to enter

1

WCC, Canberra, 1991.

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into living contact with those outside their own ranks who confess the Lordship of Christ.”2

This is an important reminder to both Catholics and Reformed, since many of us caricature one another as intransigent because we have deep convictions about our very different emphases in ecclesiology, and because we are sometimes quite content to see our own ecclesiological reality as the norm for all other churches in the ecumenical movement—at least implicitly. Of course, the internal lives of our two traditions are a) gifted with diversity, b) plagued by a variety of polarizations in diverse contexts (see the Catholic polarization at the highest levels, for examples in the 1995 papal encyclical Ut Unum Sint and the tone of the 2000 text Dominus Iesus and its 2007 reiteration. It does little good to tell our people, and our ecumenical colleagues, that the former is much more skillfully written and has a higher claim to authority than the latter. I would suspect that there are similar polarizations within the ecumenical program of the Reformed churches), and c) our traditions both suffer competing priorities in our ecumenical relationships.

Catholic Shifts The Second Vatican Council (1962–1965) was called to help the Catholic Church better proclaim the gospel in a world that was experiencing rapid changes. As a result of the council, the Catholic Church renewed the liturgy, empowered the lay faithful to full participation in the church’s life, recommitted itself to evangelization, and made the quest for peace and justice integral to its daily life. On an equal footing with each of these mentioned changes, the church also committed itself to work for Christian unity and to become an advocate of religious freedom for all. As a result many positive changes have occurred. Consider for a moment these statements that express Catholic teaching:

2 WCC Porto Alegre, 2006. http://www.oikoumene.org/en/resources/documents/ wcc-commissions/faith-and-order-commission.html. For a Reformed overview of the meaning of full communion, as articulated in conciliar discussions, church agreements and the challenges in presents to the Reformed churches and the ecumenical movement, see Joseph Small, “What is Communion and When is it Full?” Ecclesiology 2: 1 (2005), 71–88.

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jeffrey gros 1) Catholics recognize the real but imperfect communion that exists among the Catholic Church and other churches and ecclesial communities, and we have begun to live into a deeper communion.3 2) We no longer speak of “separated brethren” but of “fellow Christians.”4 3) Common baptism, those things we share in faith, and our common scripture help Catholic identity to be formed within an understanding of our common Christianity.5 4) We have moved from an ecumenism of ‘return’ to a mutual respect, using dialogue as the means for disclosing our agreements, as well as those things needing resolution on the common pilgrimage toward that unity for which Christ prayed.6 5) Our theological understanding has shifted from seeing the Roman Catholic Church as the one, true Church to an affirmation of the fact that the one, true Church “subsists in” the Catholic Church, but that elements of the true Church are alive and saving in other churches, and that we are all wounded while the scandal of division remains.7 6) Integral to all Catholic formation for ministry is its ecumenical vision and content.8

Pope John Paul II reminded Catholics: “The commitment to re-establishing full and visible communion among all the baptized does not apply merely to a few ecumenical experts; it concerns every Christian, from every diocese and parish, and from every one of the church’s communities. All are called to take on this commitment, and no one can refuse to make his own the prayer of Jesus that all may be one; all are called to pray and work for the unity of Christ’s disciples.”9 Pope John Paul II made clear that what takes place in these dialogues and our understanding of their reports is essential to the catechetical mission of the Church. Therefore, Catholic relations with the Reformed and other churches are to be integral to Catholic life: While dialogue continues on new subjects or develops at deeper levels, a new task lies before us: that of receiving the results already achieved.

3 Decree on Ecumenism 1965. http://www.vatican.va/archive/hist_councils/ii_vatican_council/documents/vat-ii_decree_19641121_unitatis-redintegratio_en.html 4 Ut Unum Sint 1995 [UUS]. http://www.vatican.va/edocs/ENG0221/_INDEX.HTM 5 Directory for the Application of Principles and Norms on Ecumenism 1993. http:// www.vatican.va/roman_curia/pontifical_councils/chrstuni/documents/rc_pc_chrstuni_doc_25031993_principles-and-norms-on-ecumenism_en.html 6 Decree on Ecumenism. 7 Decree on Ecumenism. 8 The Ecumenical Dimension in the Formation of Pastoral Workers, 1998. http:// www.vatican.va/roman_curia/pontifical_councils/chrstuni/documents/rc_pc_chrstuni_doc_16031998_ecumenical-dimension_en.html 9 UUS.

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These cannot remain the statements of bilateral commissions but must become a common heritage. For this to come about and for the bonds of communion to be thus strengthened, a serious examination needs to be made, which, by different ways and means and at various levels of responsibility, must involve the whole People of God.10

Of course, such an ecumenical development will entail a careful rereading of the Council of Trent (1545–1563), which has begun most dramatically and authoritatively in the 1999 Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification, and a rereading of Vatican I (1870) in the light of Vatican II (1962–1965), especially the latter’s ecclesiological and ecumenical reforms.11 The Catholic understanding of faith and its interpretation and passing on in history the tradition of the Word is a dynamic process, and therefore cannot be viewed statically or uniformly at any moment of its development. A sense of unity is very strong in Catholicism. Sometimes, this unfortunately leads to an unwarranted dependence on the authorities and central offices of the church, even when these encourage diversity, local initiatives, subsidiarity, and deepening ecumenical ties in each place. The long heritage of ultramontanism, especially since the French Revolution, has stifled some creative inculturation.12 A strong papal personality or processes of preserving unity which are not transparent to Catholics and ecumenical colleagues, often obscure a theology of communion that claims to honor cultural diversity, appropriate levels of authority, and full lay participation in the mission of the church. The Catholic Church has a renewed vision of collegiality, synodality, full lay participation, a Word-centered worship and personal piety, and an identity formed by the confession of real, if imperfect communion with all Christians. It has clearly articulated a new and positive appreciation of other churches, even if there are issues to be resolved that both bring to the ecumenical table. With such dramatic development in such a few years, one is not surprised that the inherited structures, the public officers and the various ministers in the Catholic

10

UUS, emphasis added. See, for example, a beginning of this process, in the context of the dialogue on primacy with the Orthodox churches. Walter Kasper, ed., The Petrine Ministry: Catholics and Orthodox in Dialogue (New York: The Newman Press, 2006). 12 See Jeffrey Von Arx, ed., Varieties of Ultramontanism (Washington: Catholic University of America Press, 1998), Richard Costigan, The Consensus of the Church and Papal Infallibility: A Study in the Background of Vatican I (Washington: Catholic University of America Press, 2005). 11

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Church have not perfected its institutions, leaders, and the culture of its members. Reception of Vatican II and its subsequent reforms is as important for the internal life of the church as it is for ecumenical engagement.13

Reformed Catholic Reconciliation The more than forty years of Reformed Catholic dialogues internationally and in local contexts around the world have been particularly fruitful in witnessing to Christ’s reconciling will for the churches.14 We realize that “the Reformed tradition is a complicated” but welcome “discussion partner.”15 In this section, we will note some contributions of the international dialogue and some examples from our particular, United States context. Unfortunately, as George Tavard notes: By and large the works of John Calvin remain generally unread by Catholic theologians. The result is of course that questionable clichés are often adopted, notably regarding predestination, pessimism as to the human situation, extremism in addressing the consequences of original sin, harshness in judgment, a legalism that can destroy the freedom of the children of God, a reduction of spiritual life to asceticism, and suspicion of the denial of mystical graces. In addition, the memory of colonial Puritanism has been detrimental to the reputation of Calvin and his disciples among Catholics in North America.16

For this reason, the direct dialogue between these two living traditions today is important to build trust, dispel this ignorance and caricature, and eventually lay the ground work for deepening communion. Anyone who has even the most superficial knowledge of the 16th century

13 See, for example, George Tavard, Vatican II and the Ecumenical Way (Milwaukee: Marquette University Press, 2006). Ormond Rush, Still Interpreting Vatican II: Some Hermeneutical Principles (New York: Paulist Press, 2004). 14 http://www.usccb.org/seia/journey.shtml. John Radano, Catholic and Reformed (Louisville: Office of Theology and Worship, Presbyterian Church, 1996), Occasional Paper # 8. 15 Martien Brinkman, “Unity: A Contribution from the Reformed Tradition,” in M. Goheen & M. O’Gara, eds., That the World May Believe (Lanham: University of America Press, 2006), 114. 16 George Tavard, “A Reflection on the Joint Declaration on Justification and the Reformed Tradition,” in Goheen, World May Believe, 187.

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realizes that Calvin is one of the greatest systematic theologians of the era. Reading the carefully worded texts of the dialogues will clarify the differences that need to be resolved, especially where they treat the Reformed focus on the Creatura Verbi and the invisible church, and the Catholic focus on the sacramental understanding of church and its essential visibility. On the Catholic side, however, it will be important to realize that the sacrament/mystery understanding of the church is not without its critics. There is always a danger to over-sacralize the visible elements of the church, so that sociologically conditioned institutions and sinful persons are given a static respect that verges on the idolatry of which the Reformed tradition is always so suspicious. In fact, in the 1985 Synod of Bishops, the tensions between mystery ecclesiology and people of god ecclesiology (often emanating from Third World bishops formed by the positive experience of liberation theology), necessitated a careful review of Vatican II which surfaced communion/koinonia ecclesiology as the dominant theme—a theme familiar in the World Council discussions of the church as a conciliar communion. Such a formulation does not negate the Catholic drive for unity, its recognition of the church and its sacraments as means of grace, nor its affirmation of itself as a pilgrim people of God in the movement of the kingdom throughout history. These debates and compromises only show the unresolved character of the variety of emphases within the church’s leadership, and the continued search of ecumenical unity within what appears to be a harmonious Synod of Bishops.17

The International Reformed Catholic Dialogue The Reformed Catholic dialogues provide an important component in the pilgrimage toward full communion. There have been four international dialogues sponsored by the World Alliance of Reformed Churches and the Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity:

17 Jeffrey Gros, “Theological Debates: Synodical and Conciliar,” Ecumenical Trends 15: 2 (1986), 18.

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The Presence of Christ in the World: 1968–1977,18 with the Lutheran World Federation: The Theology and Problem of Mixed Marriage: 1976,19 Toward a Common Understanding of the Church: 1984–1990,20 and The Church as Community of Common Witness to the Kingdom of God: 1998–2005.21 From a Catholic point of view, these dialogues help our people and leadership understand that the Reformed tradition has a sense of the biblical imperative for unity, even with its more inclusive ecclesiology and its emphasis on the invisible church.22 They should dispel the Catholic prejudice that the lack of bishops means the absence of the biblical episcope, or a commitment to elements of apostolic succession even if not embodied in episcopal ordinations. And most pastorally important, it will help our people realize that a doctrine of the real presence of Christ in the Lord’s Supper can be embodied in other formulations, than those used in the polemics of the Reformation and the theories used to explicate it in the fourth Lateran Council (1215) and Trent. While the key issue in reconciling these churches is ecclesiology— what understanding, practice, and witness of these churches is necessary before full communion is achieved in a united church—this dialogue has found it essential to tackle the core issues of the Christian faith, the Trinity, and the Incarnation. The ecclesiological issues themselves are driven by this central confessional position of the churches. “Jesus Christ, in whose name our forbearers separated themselves from one another, is also the one who unites us in a community of forgiveness and kinship.”23 The second chapter of the second report even is entitled Our Common Confession of Faith. While the drafters are clear on how this text differs from a confession in the classical understanding, it is their reflection on the common elements of the Christian faith shared by 18 Lukas Vischer and Harding Meyer, eds., Growth in Agreement Reports and Agreed Statements of Ecumenical Conversations on a World Level (New York: Paulist Press, 1984), 433 ff. 19 Vischer, Growth, 277 ff. 20 In William G. Rusch and Jeffrey Gros, eds., Deepening Communion (Washington: US Catholic Conference, 1998), 179 ff. 21 http://www.prounione.urbe.it/dia-int/r-rc/doc/i_r-rc_3-contents.html 22 For a discussion of Reformed exclusiveness and inclusiveness, see Richard Mouw, “True Church and True Christians: Some Reflections on Calvinist Discernment,” in Goheen, World May Believe, 103–112. 23 Rusch, Deepening, 442.

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the Catholic and Reformed churches that emboldens them to use such a formulation. Not only does this text claim agreement on the work of Christ, justification, grace, and the Trinity, it also professes to have reconciled differences over the relationship of these to the church: Together we confess the Church, for there is no justification in isolation. All justification takes place in the community of believers, or is ordered toward the gathering of such a community. Fundamental for us all is the presence of Christ in the Church, considered simultaneously as both a reality of grace and a concrete community in time and space.24

A creative section of the 1990 report is on the topic, Toward a Reconciliation of Memories. The process of reconciliation will be greatly enhanced with positive portraits of one another without the “selectivity and polemics” of the past, and with an affirmative view of the “present reality in our churches.”25 On the basis of this discussion the dialogue leaves historical scholars and educators with a challenge: We need to set ourselves more diligently, however, to the task of reconciling these memories, by writing together the story of what happened in the sixteenth century, with attention not only to the clash of convictions over doctrine and church order, but with attention also as to how in the aftermath our two churches articulated their respective understandings into institutions, culture and the daily lives of believers. But, above all, for the ways in which our divisions have caused a scandal, and been an obstacle to the preaching of the Gospel, we need to ask forgiveness of Christ and of each other.26

I personally have found this text most helpful in providing a hermeneutical guide for teaching courses on the Reformation in Protestant, Catholic, and ecumenical contexts.27 However, I have yet to find an adequate text to guide seminary level students with this perspective in view. We need resources that make the conviction of this dialogue a concrete reality in the narrative we share with our ministry and people. The pope has picked up on this theme as integral to the reconciling and reforming moments in Catholic ecclesiological developments, as

24

Rusch, Deepening, 203. Rusch, Deepening, 181 ff. 26 Rusch, Deepening, 197. 27 Jeffrey Gros, “Building a Common Heritage: Teaching the Reformation in an Ecumenical Perspective,” Ecumenical Trends 35: 5 (2006), 11–15. 25

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a recognition of the shadow side of Catholic history, taking account of the painful memories that continue to leave divisions among us: Christians cannot underestimate the burden of long-standing misgivings inherited from the past and of mutual misunderstandings and prejudices. Complacency, indifference and insufficient knowledge of one another often make this situation worse.28

A third round of this international dialogue has been published which testifies to a common vision of the kingdom as a grounding for common witness in the world.

The United States Reformed Catholic Dialogue The international dialogue has been conscious of the importance of local relationships, because of the character of the World Alliance and the emerging theology and practice of local church in Catholicism: “[N]either body wishes to detract from the importance of similar, more-or-less official conversations which had been going on for some time at the national level. . . .”29 In the United States, we have been particularly appreciative of initiatives that have developed from Scotland and the Netherlands, though as the third international round demonstrates, common witness has also been an important testimony in Canada, Northern Ireland, and South Africa as well. For the sake of illustration, I will note the results of our US Reformed Catholic dialogue. In addition to the formal US dialogues, several Reformed churches have reassessed the evaluations of Catholic doctrine, especially on the Lord’s Supper, in light of contemporary liturgical reforms, common ecumenical scholarship, and the pastoral urgency of interchurch families. Of particular theological significance is the process and conclusion of the Christian Reformed Church and its understanding of the Heidelberg Catechism question and answer number 80.

28 29

UUS # 2. Vischer, Growth, 434.

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The synod of 2004 concluded that the Mass, when celebrated in accordance with official Roman Catholic teaching, neither denies the one sacrifice and suffering of Jesus Christ nor constitutes idolatry.30

Early Rounds The US dialogue has been remarkably productive, though in the most immediate past there has been a long hiatus in the 1980s, after 1983, because of the energies going into the reunion of the Presbyterian Church, the largest Reformed member of the dialog. The theme of the current round is mutual recognition of baptism and theological bases for agreement on the doctrine of the Lord’s Supper. Early successful statements on such issues as scripture and tradition,31 ministry,32 the roles of women, stages toward unity,33 the laity,34 and pastoral approaches to marriage, baptism, and the Lord’s Supper35 provide important, yet to be realized proposals for reconciliation. While they have provided resources for later developments on these issues, some of the earliest dialogues moved so quickly towards agreement that they may appear naive about the openness of our churches. It will be important for all future dialogues, not only in the US, to continue to draw upon this early and very promising work.

30 See Lyle Bierma, “Confessions and Ecumenicity: The Christian Reformed Church and Heidelberg Catechism 80,” Jeffrey Gros, “Mission and Mystery: Gospel Testimony in Service to the World,” in Goheen, World May Believe, 145–172. 31 Reconsiderations: Roman Catholic/Presbyterian and Reformed Theological Conversations 1966–67 (New York: World Horizons, Inc., 1977). 32 “The Ministry of the Church,” Journal of Ecumenical Studies 5 (1968), 462–465; “Validation of Ministries in the New Testament,” Kilian McDonnell, “Ways of Validating Ministry,” Journal of Ecumenical Studies 7 (1970), 209–265; “Ministry in the Church, Women in Church and Society,” Journal of Ecumenical Studies 7 (1970), 686–691. 33 Ernest Unterkoefler and Andrew Harsanyi, eds., The Unity We Seek (New York: Paulist Press, 1977), reprinted in Jeffrey Gros and Joseph Burgess, eds., Building Unity (New York: Paulist Press, 1989), 384–417. 34 The Roman Catholic-Presbyterian/Reformed Consultation, Laity in the Church and the World: Resources for Ecumenical Dialogue (Washington: US Catholic Conference, 1998). 35 Patrick Cooney and John Bush, eds., Interchurch Families: Resources for Ecumenical Hope (Washington: US Conference of Catholic Bishops, 2002).

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Ethical Themes Two sets of US dialogues are truly pioneering in that they take up the significant ethical issues of our time: human rights, abortion, peace, and education. These discussions, with the possible exception of that on peace, have yet to bear the fruitfulness of which they are capable. This is due to the politicized character of religion in the US context, and the fact that common reconciling statements do not assist those most energized by public advocacy. The statement on abortion, for example, not only provides a case study of dialogue on a major, church dividing, ethical issue, and the reconciliation of memories by giving a common account of the ethical traditions underlying the positions. It also provides some resources that might be helpful in the American religious community in finding a basis for a national common ground, in fidelity to common Christian values, on what continues to elude the political parties in their proposals for national consensus.36 It records five very concrete areas of common faith and four where there are issues to continue to be discussed. While the American impulse for advocacy and issue oriented organization runs counter to the irenic impulse of ecumenical agreements generally, the very nature of our unity in Christ makes witness to reconciliation here even more urgent. Likewise, the cultural, economic, and political role of the United States in the world urges ecumenical collaboration on the US churches, since these earlier ethical dialogues, similar—but more theoretical—conversations on ethics have begun in the World Council of Churches37 and in the Joint Working Group of the Catholic Church and the World Council.38 For these churches, healing has meant not only “a new level of common witness to society,” but also a confession that “both our traditions have at times violated Christian principles and damaged political justice.”39 Likewise, these discussions make substantive contributions to

36 Ethics and the Search for Christian Unity (Washington: United States Catholic Conference, 1981). Also in Gros, Building, 418–423. http://www.usccb.org/seia/chui .shtml. 37 Thomas Best and Wesley Granberg-Michaelson, eds. Costly Unity: Koinonia and Justice, Peace and Creation (Geneva: World Council of Churches, 1993). 38 The Ecumenical Dialogue on Moral Issues: Potential Sources of Common Witness or Divisions, in Rusch, Deepening, 597–612. 39 Ethics and the Search, 7.

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the reconciliation already begun on scripture and tradition by delineating how “the core logic” of these two churches “use[s] a combination of arguments from Scripture, from the traditional discussions of just war theory and from social-ethical analysis of the contemporary situation.”40 These dialogues are a call for renewal, indeed reform, in both of our churches. Much change has occurred in the last forty years. Many have been converted to Christ’s call for the unity of the church. Many remain to respond to Christ’s call. We are now challenged to take the next steps.

Challenges on our Pilgrim Journey Several challenges are before us in Reformed and Catholic relations as we move forward together into the 21st century. 1) First, we need to be sensitive to debates within the Catholic Church. 2) Second, we note two challenges Catholics perceive in our relationship with Reformed partners. And finally, 3), we note the contextual nature of the ecumenical movement, even for two traditions which claim catholic universality. 1) The debates on how the teaching of the Vatican Council II that the “one true Church subsists in the Catholic Church” are widely known. A variety of interpretations are provided at the highest levels of Catholic leadership.41 While it is clear that the council intended to move away from an undifferentiated identification of the existing institutions of the Catholic Church with the Church of Jesus Christ without remainder, it is also clear that the council left it to the theological community and to the postconciliar magisterium to clarify both the theological meaning of this formulation, and more especially the pastoral implications of this formulation for Catholic practice and for the methodology of dialogue with our ecumenical partners.

40

Ethics and the Search, 8. See Karl Becker, S.J., “On the Meaning of Subsistit in,” Origins 35 (January 9, 2006), 514–22; and also for the more “inclusive” reading of Lumen gentium, no. 8 in Francis Sullivan, S.J., “Questio Disputata: A Response to Karl Becker, S.J., On the Meaning of Subsitit in,” Theological Studies 67 (2006), 395–409. Tavard, Vatican II, 138. James Massa, “The Priority of Unity in the Mystery of the Church,” Journal of Ecumenical Studies, 42 (2007) 589–607. 41

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For those who too closely identify the church with the Roman Catholic Church, its formulations of the faith and the current institutional arrangements, the path of dialogue, reform, and reconciliation becomes more difficult. On the other hand, for those who do not take sufficient account of the truth claims of Catholic ecclesiology in dialogue, proposals for institutional and theological reform, and approaches to other Christian communities, the results of the dialogue will not have a wide credibility. These internal tensions demonstrate the diversity of Catholicism, and they also provide frustrations for our ecumenical partners. A second important debate has been focused by two important German contributors to the contemporary Catholic ecumenical scene. The question is raised as to the priority of the universal over the local church in Catholic ecclesiology, with implications for how we evaluate the ecclesiology of ecumenical partners and common proposals for ecclesiological reconciliation in Faith and Order and bilateral discussions. As a private theologian, and in some of the texts over which he presided as President of the Congregation of the Doctrine of the Faith, Pope Benedict XVI has made a strong case for the priority of the universal over the local in Catholic ecclesiology. Cardinal Walter Kasper, President of the Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity, has made the case for the simultaneity of local and universal in the Pentecost experience and in Catholic ecclesiology. Cardinal Kasper has emphasized the pastoral implications for these two theoretical positions, as they balance papal universality, with episcopal and national collegiality, within the universal communion of local churches which is the Catholic self-understanding.42 For the most part, bilateral dialogues with the Orthodox and the Reformation churches have not matured to the point of touching on ecclesiology in such detail. However, with the Reformed heritage of collegial structures, subsidiarity, local participation, and checks and balances even in presbyterially/episcopally ordered ecclesiologies, this internal Catholic debate is not without its interest to ecclesiologists

42 Joseph Ratzinger, “The Local Church and the Universal Church: A Response to Walter Kasper,” in America (November 19, 2001), 7–11; Walter Kasper, Letter in reply to Cardinal Ratzinger, in America (November 26, 2001), 28. For an analysis of the debate, see Killian McDonnell’s review: “The Ratzinger/Kasper Debate: The Universal Church and the Local Churches,” Theological Studies 63 (2002), 227–250.

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concerned about Reformed and Catholic reconciliation.43 Likewise, it will be very interesting to see how universal collegial structures evolve in the Reformed family to give visibility to the catholicity therein confessed. We can learn a great deal about the personal and collegial episcope needed in the unity church for which we pray, by listening attentively to both Reformed and Catholic proposals for universal structures that are communal, collegial, and personal. Finally, there is the debate about ecumenical methodology, traditional formulations of the faith and their interpretation, and the process of ecumenical reception within Catholicism. There are some voices in Catholic ecumenism, citing the private theology of Joseph Ratzinger, which question the forty years of progress made in Faith and Order and the bilateral dialogues.44 Catholic methodology recognizes the centrality of truth in the dialogues, the historical character of biblical and confessional formulations, the hierarchy of truths, and the need for penitence, conversion, and continual reform in the institutional expressions of the church’s life. For this reason, Catholic ecumenists are willing to test formulations, both of our partners and of our own Magisterium, against the biblical and historical witness of the faith of the church through the ages. Some question whether this critical scholarship is not rooted in an ideology of relativism rather than a confidence in the truth of the gospel and an honest quest for its clarification, and possible consensus, through dialogue. For example, in the responses to Faith and Order’s 1982 Baptism, Eucharist, Ministry, the Orthodox Church of Greece refused to respond

43 See, for example, Jeffrey Gros, “The Universal and the Particular Christian Unity in a Post-Modern World,” Exchange 37 (2008), 437–448. 44 “It is time to move beyond the branch theories and models approach of previous generations of ecumenists, which tended to foster a relativism of that which particular ecclesial bodies hold to be essential to faith and order. However serviceable these approaches were in helping to identify the particular gifts of each ecclesial tradition (and what might have been lacking in one’s own), they likely obscured the unitary nature of the one ekklesía that begins to take shape when Christ summons the twelve, the spiritual sons of the ‘new Israel’ (cf. Mk 3:14). By acknowledging the ongoing presence of the one Church in history, Christians gain a renewed urgency to look to the historically concrete, to the actual faith and practice of another’s communion, in order to identify what Christ wills and has been willing for his pilgrim people. The question of the one Church existing now, in our present world, with an urgent summons to all people, and with a voice that can speak authoritatively to the postmodern issues pressing upon women and men today, gives to the ecumenical task a resolve that it has lately been lacking.” Massa, “The Priority,” 601.

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because this text had no theological standing since it was not the product of the true church and its authorized bishops. One Catholic bishop, now a cardinal, also made such an assertion, which thankfully had no influence in the response of the Catholic Church to this text—the first ecumenical response since 1439!—and therefore an important methodological precedent.45 The Catholic response to the Anglican Roman Catholic Final Report, however, did raise questions of how closely the formulations of the consensus corresponded to traditional Catholic magisterial formulations.46 How the hierarchy of truths, the hermeneutics of history, reception and rereception,47 and the evaluation of the ecclesial status of ecumenical partners will develop in 21st century Catholicism, continue to be issues for the future of the ecumenical movement. 2) Second, some Catholic challenges before the Reformed churches: When the encyclical of the late Pope John Paul II, Ut Unum Sint, was published in 1995, with its generous offer of a “patient and fraternal dialogue” to ecumenically reform the papacy to better serve the ecumenical movement, even short of theological discussions of universal ministry in the church, many of us who had worked with Reformed colleagues for decades were surprised at the staff response from WARC in Geneva. We were told that Reformed were not interested in conversation about reform of the Petrine office. In the US, for example, we had been willing to talk about authority and polity questions, and the shape of the unity we have been seeking as early as the 1970s.48 In Memphis, for the study of our covenant between presbytery and diocese, we even placed pictures of the young Pope John Paul and the Presbyterian General Assembly on facing pages, to illustrate different approaches to universal episcope. While Catholic ecumenists would recognize that “in Reformed eyes papacy continues to be incompatible with the spirit of the New Testament,”49 these ecumenists are disappointed that an ecumenist, whose

45 George Vandervelde, “Vatican Ecumenism at the Crossroads? The Vatican Approach to Differences with BEM,” Gregorianum 69: 4 (1988), 689–711. 46 Christopher Hill and Edward Yarnold, SJ, Anglicans and Roman Catholics: The Search for Unity (London: SPCK/CTS, 1994). 47 Walter Kasper, The Petrine Ministry. 48 Unterkoefler, Harsanyi, The Unity We Seek. 49 Lukas Vischer, “The Petrine Ministry of Unity and the Common Witness of the Churches Today,” in James F. Puglisi, ed., Petrine Ministry and the Unity of the Church (Collegeville: The Liturgical Press, 1999), 139.

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career has contributed so much to the discussion of conciliar fellowship, also reported Reformed disinterest in this ecumenical conversation.50 Christocentric ecumenical scholarship has begun to transcend the polemical approaches to the scripture characteristic of the last 500 years.51 On the other hand, Lukas Vischer is correct for Catholics as for Reformed in understanding: “[t]hat the significance of Peter, the apostle, cannot be exhaustively described by the ministry of a bishop and would be decisively reduced if it would be limited to the role of a ministerial service, though, of course, ministerial services are necessary and demanded and supported by the Holy Spirit.”52 His suggestion that transparency and mutual consultation is an essential priority in this dialogue with the Reformed about the papacy is very well formulated. “Lack of transparency is incompatible with a true sense of ecumenical responsibility.”53 In fact, even some Catholic bishops and elements of the Roman Curia would welcome such a development within Catholicism. This would enhance communication and consultation and be a needed renewal of the exercise of the papacy in service to communion among Catholics. Reformed churches could easily invite Catholics into the drafting processes and assemblies where their magisterium is exercised. The Holy See could easily invite observers/experts to work with all of the dicasteries of the Roman Curia to enhance the quality of texts produced, and insure that there were no surprises. The quality of the texts and pronouncements of both communions and the catholicity of their reception would be enhanced by such a process of transparency and mutual consultation. The model for such a process could well be the role of the observers from other churches and ecclesial communities during the second Vatican Council.54 Such a process of consultation

50

Vischer, “The Petrine Ministry,” 144. Raymond Brown, et al., Peter in the New Testament (New York: Paulist Press, 1973). 52 Vischer, “The Petrine Ministry,” 143. 53 Vischer, “The Petrine Ministry,” 150. 54 Such processes of transparency, consultation, and mutual admonition would, indeed, improve communication on the points of tension that Vischer rightly identifies as neuralgic, and even embarrassing on both sides of the ecumenical conversation: 1) sexuality and marriage issues, 2) gender roles, and 3) care for the environment, Vischer, “The Petrine Ministry,” 145–147. Of course, any experienced ecumenist or well schooled ecclesiologist could enumerate a much longer list of exemplary challenges, most of which could be served by the structures of transparency which Vischer envisions. 51

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must be supported, however, by “[a] collegial structure . . . to widen the horizon, and . . . set limits to power. . . .”55 in which the Catholic Church and its Petrine office would participate. Mutual admonition and affirmation, also suggested by Vischer, has been seen as an integral step in the process of building the basis for full communion.56 Unfortunately, when this occurs, as with Anglicans and Catholics, it is often accompanied by reporting that prefers to focus on the conflict rather than the ecumenical honesty and bonds of communion to which such admonition testifies. Mutually agreed upon ways of challenging one another in Christ will eventually be a testimony that the dialogue of love has matured into a true dialogue of truth. Fortunately, European ecumenists with their particular experience are not the last words from the Reformed churches on this issue. Indeed, the Presbyterian Church (USA) has staged a dialogue in Louisville and in Rome providing an ecumenically open Reformed witness when WARC seemed reluctant to do so. As they note: “Whatever our attitude may be to the institution of the papacy, its importance to the very idea of unity—so long sought by so many—cannot be avoided.”57 This is a discussion to which the Reformed churches have a major contribution to make, as we seek together that universal and visible communion for which we pray. A second challenge to the Reformed churches in their relationship with Catholicism is the work on the issue at the headwaters of the Reformation, Justification by Faith. The second round of the international dialogue has provided a very rich contribution to the ecumenical literature on this theme (# 77–88). German Reformed theologians made magisterial contributions to the study of the 16th century condemnations which laid the groundwork for the 1999 historic Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification, which the World Methodist Council also signed on to in 2006. However, scholars representing the Reformed churches report that their churches seem reluctant to follow up on the WARC and German work, and to formally put aside the historic condemnations which are remaining irritants in our lives 55

Vischer, “The Petrine Ministry.” Gabriel Fackre, Michael Root, Affirmations & Admonitions: Lutheran Decisions and Dialogue with Reformed, Episcopal, and Roman Catholic Churches (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans, 1998). 57 Anna Case-Winters, Lewis Mudge, “The Sucessor to Peter,” in “Special Issue on Presbyterian Roman Catholic Relations,” Journal of Presbyterian History 80: 2 (2002), 83. 56

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together.58 On the other hand, US Presbyterians recommend to the Reformed that they “perhaps find some way of adding our voice to the findings of the Joint Declaration.”59 If the dialogue recommends the reconciliation of memories, and the Reformed churches seem reluctant to proceed, how do we move forward? Does this inability to decide and act together as Reformed churches say more to us about ecclesiology than about continuing soteriological fragmentation? 3) Finally, we are challenged to both celebrate and enhance our local common witness in particular contexts around the globe. On the one hand, we can be grateful to the Joint Working Group of the World Council of Churches and the Catholic Church for publishing “Inspired by the Same Vision: Roman Catholic Participation in National and Regional Councils of Churches,”60 which documents conciliar participation worldwide, and to the WARC-Catholic third round which gives details of three examples. These positive experiences need to be resources for places where tensions still exist. On the other hand, each context presents its unique challenges, as noted about the Catholic Church in Romania. In the US, Presbyterians and Scandinavian immigrant Lutherans are more allergic to bishops, for example, than are Hungarians or the churches in India. Latin American Catholics have major contextual work to do to sort out groups who are ecumenical partners, assertive anti-ecumenical evangelicals, and non-Christian Mormons and Witnesses—a catechetical task that is also a challenge for some Eastern European Orthodox. We can take heart for the positive developments and see them as incentives to foster greater common witness where it is yet to develop. We have grown apart over 500 years of separation. Most of our history does not have the witness of 16th century Transylvania and its modicum of tolerance to draw from for reconciling resources. However, our common vision of the kingdom and our common theological

58 Unity in Faith: The Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification in a Wider Ecumenical Context. Presentations and relevant documents from a Consultation held in Columbus, Ohio, U.S.A., 27–30, November 2001, Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity and The Lutheran World Federation, (Geneva: Lutheran World Federation Office for Ecumenical Affairs, 2002). See also Tavard, in Goheen, World May Believe, 187–202. 59 Case-Winters, “The Successor to Peter,” 99. 60 540–570 in Thomas Best, Lorelei Fuchs, Jeffrey Gros, eds., Growth in Agreement III (Geneva/Grand Rapids: World Council of Churches/Eerdmans, 2007).

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seriousness auger well for what the Holy Spirit might do as we move forward in response to Christ’s call: Unity is a gift from above, stemming from and growing toward loving communion with the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Christian prayer for unity is a humble but faithful sharing in the prayer of Jesus, who promised that any prayer in his name would be heard by the Father.61

61 Walter Kasper, A Handbook of Spiritual Ecumenism (Hyde Park: New City Press, 2007), 10.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

AN ASYMPTOTIC DIALOGUE? A RESPONSE TO JEFFREY GROS Leo J. Koffeman

In his inaugural lecture, the well-known Dutch, Roman Catholic, ecumenical theologian Anton Houtepen once characterized the ecumenical dialogue on ecclesiological issues, and specifically on the issue of ordained ministry, as “an asymmetric dialogue.”1 This qualification mainly drew attention to the fact that the churches involved take as points of departure opposite views regarding historical developments and their relevance. This fact significantly hampers ecumenical dialogue. Sometimes I wonder if it were not better to speak of an asymptotic dialogue. From the time that I was introduced to geometry at secondary school, I have been fascinated by the graph of an asymptote: it is a straight line which is continually approached by a curve that however never actually meets the straight line.2 It is a picture that often crosses my mind when I read official Roman Catholic responses to ecumenical reports on ecclesiological issues, at least in the Dutch context: ‘convergences yes, consensus no’—you are coming closer, friends, but you are not yet there! Protestant church leaders tend to be less frank in this respect, but between the lines a similar opinion can often be discovered.3

1 A.W.J. Houtepen, Een asymmetrische dialoog: Historische kanttekeningen bij de onderlinge erkenning van de kerkelijke ambten (An asymmetric dialogue. Historical notes on the mutual recognition of ecclesial offices) (Utrecht: University of Utrecht, 1994). 2 For those interested: it is the graphic representation of the formula: y = 1/x. 3 E.g., see the reception of the final report of the most recent Dutch dialogue, De universele en de locale dimensie van de Kerk (English translation: “The Universal and the Local Dimensions of the Church,” Exchange. Journal of Missiological and Ecumenical Research, 37 (2008), 392–436; this volume of Exchange includes a number of theological reactions to the report). It was seriously discussed by the Roman Catholic Bishops’ Conference, although its reaction was rather disappointing, and totally in line with my picture of an ‘asymptotic dialogue.’ But the Protestant Church in the Netherlands did not give any formal reaction at all; its leadership simply seemed not

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Is the ecumenical dialogue, and more specifically the Roman Catholic-Reformed dialogue, on ecclesiological issues asymptotic in nature? I want to explore some implications of this question, and focus on three major issues: 1. the reception of dialogues by the churches involved, 2. the role of ecclesial self-understanding in dialogue, and, 3. more specifically the relation between unity and diversity.

I have been participating in two processes during the last twenty years that have been helpful, practical sources of insight into the issues at stake. The first one is my participation in national and international Roman Catholic-Reformed dialogue. In the early 1990s, I was invited to participate in our national Reformation-Catholic Dialogue Commission that, over a period of more than a decade, produced two books and a final report.4 From 1998 I have also had the privilege of being a member of the most recent dialogue team of the World Alliance of Reformed Churches (WARC) in its theological conversations with the Roman Catholic Church.5 Without any doubt, participating in these dialogues has deepened and enriched my understanding of Roman Catholic ecclesiology. A second important source of experience has been my involvement in church unification in the Netherlands. In May 2004, the two major WARC member churches in the Netherlands united with a small Lutheran church to form the Protestant Church in the Netherlands. My chair for church law qualified me to be a member of the Church Law Working Group, which had to draft the new church order for the Protestant Church in the Netherlands. Long lasting internal discussions within the Working Group, alternated with sometimes extremely difficult synodical decision making processes that resulted in a church order based on a distinctive concept of church unity. Within one church, represented by one general synod, a differentiated system of checks and balances is designed to safeguard the position of minorities, both in terms of confessional tradition and in terms of spiritual

to be interested in the results of a commission that had been in dialogue on its behalf for about ten years. 4 M.E. Brinkman, H.P.J. Witte (ed.), From Roots to Fruits (Geneva: WARC, 1998); L.J. Koffeman, H.P.J. Witte (eds.), Of all Times and of all Places (Zoetermeer: Meinema, 2001). Final report, see above, footnote 3. 5 Final Report “The Church as Community of Common Witness to the Kingdom of God,” Reformed World, 57(2&3), June/September 2007, 105–207; Information Service, N. 125 (2007/III), 110–156.

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and ethical preferences. Let me give a few examples. The Lutheran minority, less than one percent of our total constituency, has its own instruments, including an Evangelical-Lutheran Synod, to preserve the Lutheran tradition and to make it serve the church as a whole. Traditionally orthodox Reformed congregations, with a relatively strong emphasis on the Calvinist doctrine of predestination, are given room to continue within the church as a whole, without ‘compromising.’ At the same time, it is left in the power of local congregations themselves to decide on issues such as providing room for a liturgical rite of blessing same sex relationships or admitting children to Holy Supper. From this background, let me respond to the rich contribution of Jeffrey Gros, and more specifically, to the three challenges on our pilgrim journey he identifies in his final paragraph. However, I will deal with them in a somewhat different order.

Reception At first sight, the issue of the reception of ecumenical dialogues is a matter of church polity—if not church politics!—rather than a matter of theology. In the final part of his lecture, Jeffrey Gros points to some delicate questions regarding the Roman Catholic approach to ecumenism in this respect. But did we as Reformed churches and theologians, in fact, already begin to take ecumenical reception seriously at all? To some extent we did, for example, in admitting Christians from other churches to Holy Supper in our churches. But I cannot avoid the uncomfortable question if this is in many cases not an easy way of avoiding the most vibrant ecumenical issues rather than a way of really dealing with them! The answer depends on a Reformed view of church unity. One question for us today is: how do Reformed churches (and theologians) respond to a Roman Catholic view of church unity? Naturally, the reverse side of this question is: what does Protestant church unity look like, and how convincing is it in an ecumenical framework? The result of our Dutch unification process into the Protestant Church in the Netherlands, and the underlying concept of ‘unity in diversity’ seems to provoke two opposite standard reactions, both within the church and in wider ecumenical discussions. One has been brought forward several times by eminent representatives of the Roman Catholic Church, including the Dutch episcopacy and the Pontifical Council for the Promotion of Christian Unity. Its

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purport is: is this really unity, if you allow for so much local autonomy? This approach reflects concerns in the more conservative part of the Protestant Church in the Netherlands itself. It represents a more monolithic concept of organic church unity, based on an absolute understanding of truth. If truth—and what we know and can formulate about truth—is clear, little room for diversity is left within the church as the ‘pillar of truth.’6 The opposite reaction is: is this kind of unity really necessary? Could we not and should we not have refrained from full organic unity, and have limited the result of the process to full mutual recognition— maintaining however the traditional structures of the three churches involved? It would have prevented a lot of painful discussions and decisions, some people say. In ecumenical circles this approach is reflected in some reactions within the Community of Protestant Churches in Europe—the Leuenberg Community. Here we were sometimes challenged to defend our model of unity by those who represent a conservative interpretation of Leuenberg and its concept of ‘unity in reconciled diversity’: since all churches which accepted the Leuenberg Agreement ipso facto have been mutually reconciled, there is no need to draw consequences in terms of structural, organic unity. So, for some, the unity of the Protestant Church in the Netherlands is not convincing because of the way diversity is accommodated; for others it is redundant because of its emphasis on structural unity. What then is church unity from a Reformed perspective? How does it witness to reconciliation? Does it really enhance reconciliation? This is the reverse side of the question: How can and how should Reformed theologians and churches react to a Roman Catholic understanding of unity? What can we learn from it? And what will remain, at least for the near future, as the most vital questions for further theological research in this area? These questions necessarily require more clarity about a genuine Reformed view of church unity. The problem might be that there is hardly anything like that. In this respect, even the idea of an asymptote might be too optimistic. Reformed churches and theologians do not seem to bother too much about church unity. This also constitutes the basic question regarding the reception of ecumenical dialogues in the Reformed family, as became clear with

6

1 Tim 3:15.

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regard to the Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification,7 accepted in 1999 by the Roman Catholic Church and the Lutheran World Federation, and without any doubt a major milestone in ecumenical history. In 2006 the World Methodist Council signed it as well. But what about the WARC? Jeffrey Gros’ question is appropriate. I think he is right that this “inability to decide and act together”8 says much about Reformed ecclesiology. The WARC under its present Constitution has no instruments to organize a binding process of reception. At the same time, it is clear that the Joint Declaration is fully in line with what has been phrased together in the Report of the second round of WARC-RCC conversations, Towards a Common Understanding of the Church,9 as Gros also points out.10 So, what is the problem, if there is any? It is more a problem of the church(es) than a problem of theological interpretation. A similar question regards the Reformed view of the Roman Catholic Eucharist. As mentioned by Gros, the synod of the Christian Reformed Church in North America, after a series of serious discussions with representatives of the American episcopate, recently concluded: “The Mass, when celebrated in accordance with official Roman Catholic teaching, neither denies the one sacrifice and suffering of Jesus Christ nor constitutes idolatry.”11 In this manner, it withdrew a traditional interpretation of the Roman Catholic Eucharist as given in Q/A 80 of the Heidelberg Catechism. I am certainly happy with this ecumenical step forward, and so is the Vatican, as I have understood. But what is new? Roman Catholic-Reformed dialogue in the Netherlands came to similar conclusions in the early 1990s, and our synods fully agreed. However, the Report had been written in Dutch, the Dutch Bishops’ Conference did not really appreciate this report, probably did not share the contents with the Vatican, and in its response focused on the issues still to be solved rather than on this positive result. An asymptotic dialogue, indeed.

7 Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification by the Lutheran World Federation and the Catholic Church, http://lutheranworld.org/Special_Events/EN/jd97e.pdf 8 Gros, art . . .* 9 “Towards a Common Understanding of the Church. Reformed-Roman Catholic international dialogue, second phase (1984–1990),” in J. Gros etal., Growth in Agreement II (Geneva-Grand Rapids: WCC-Eerdmans, 2000). 10 Cf. Gros, art. . . .* 11 Heidelberg Catechism Q. and A. 80 and the Roman Catholic Eucharist (Grand Rapids: CRCNA, 2004) 32. Cf. Gros, art..*

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As to the Christian Reformed Church (CRC) decision, it is not the content of the decision that is new, but the level on which this decision was received within the Roman Catholic Church. Whereas the WARC does not constitute an authoritative platform for all Reformed churches, Rome does so for all Roman Catholic (particular or local) churches. That is what makes the role of WARC in reception processes extremely difficult. The position of the Lutheran World Federation (LWF) is somewhere in between. Our unification in the Netherlands made us a member of the LWF at the same time. Therefore, the Protestant Church in the Netherlands is, through the LWF, partner in the Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification. Not everybody in our church is aware of that fact, I know. The real ecclesiological challenge from the side of the Roman Catholic Church for the Reformed churches, behind issues like the doctrine of justification and the Petrine office, consists in the viability of a representation of all Reformed churches on a universal level. If the WARC implements its preliminary decision to merge with the Reformed Ecumenical Council (REC) into a World Communion of Reformed Churches, this might bring us a small step further. But Reformed churches will have a long way to go if they really want to strengthen the bonds between them and to enhance mutual commitment. For the moment it seems to be obvious that they do not meet minimum standards of unity on a supralocal, let alone a universal level. Here, our Roman Catholic partners should continue to challenge us. The question is: is there really a perspective of finding consensus in this respect, or will our dialogue indeed remain asymptotic?

The Role of Ecclesial Self-Understanding This brings me to the issue of ecclesial self-understanding. I think that the way the Reformed family has responded so far to the invitation to discuss the primacy of the bishop of Rome is characteristic, but I am afraid that the picture is more complicated than Jeffrey Gros suggests. In May 1995, the late Pope John Paul II in his encyclical Ut Unum Sint asked: Church leaders and their theologians to engage with me in a patient and fraternal dialogue on this subject [i.e. the primacy of the Bishop of

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Rome], a dialogue in which, leaving useless controversies behind, we could listen to one another, keeping before us only the will of Christ for his Church and allowing ourselves to be deeply moved by his plea “that they may all be one . . . so that the world may believe that you have sent me” (Jn 17:21)?12

Two years earlier, the Fifth World Assembly of Faith and Order in Santiago de Compostela (1993) had also said: “This issue should be on the agenda in any future ecumenical study of ecclesiology.”13 Jeffrey Gros is surprised about the negative response from the WARC staff in Geneva: “We were told that the Reformed were not interested in conversation about reform of the Petrine office.”14 This reaction seems to be opposite to the positive experiences in the USA, especially from the side of the Presbyterian Church there. I think, however, that Gros is a bit one sided, when he explains the negative WARC reaction as characteristic of “European ecumenists with their particular experience.”15 This may have played a certain role, but the fact that Geneva is a European city should not make us underestimate the role of churches from other contexts in the WARC. In my view, it is much more theologians and church leaders from the southern hemisphere that determine the WARC response to this kind of ecumenical agenda—and why not? Who is setting the agenda, anyhow? In my view, this has proven to be the most decisive and the most divisive issue in the third round of conversations between the WARC and the Roman Catholic Church. It took us quite some time—in fact three years—to come to a sufficient degree of agreement on the main issues and the methodology involved. In fact basic ecclesiological differences have determined the process as such. The Roman Catholic delegation consisted of five members, all of them from the northern hemisphere, and three regular consultants. Only one of the consultants had spent most of his life in the south, although he himself was also from a German background. In our formal meetings, no major differences of opinion among the Roman Catholic representatives with regard to topics and methodology were shown. The Reformed delegation consisted of seven members, three of

12

Ut Unum Sint, § 96, http://www.vatican.va/edocs/ENG0221/_INDEX.HTM T.F. Best, G. Gassmann (ed.), On the Way to Fuller Koinonia. Official Report of the Fifth World Conference on Faith and Order, Santiago de Compostela 1993 (Geneva: WCC, 1994), 251, cf. 243. Cf. The Nature and Mission of the Church: A Stage on the Way to a Common Statement (Geneva: WCC, 2005), § 99–104. 14 Gros, art . . .* 15 Gros, art . . .* 13

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them from the northern hemisphere and four from the south, and two regular consultants, one of them from the south. It took a lot of internal discussions within the WARC delegation, and then also between both delegations, to come to terms with the different experiences and expectations involved. In the year 2000, we were supposed to have our annual dialogue meeting in Castel Gandolfo, near Rome. It happened to be planned three weeks after the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith had issued Dominus Iesus. The WARC staff seriously considered cancelling the meeting because of the language of defect used in Dominus Iesus to explain the difference between ‘church in the proper sense’ and ‘ecclesial community,’ which was understood as a lack of recognition of the significant ecumenical progress made since Vatican II. It struck me that most of our Reformed delegates were so heavily shocked by Dominus Iesus, whereas one could as well argue that nothing new had been said if compared with Vatican II. From a psychological point of view, Dominus Iesus was an unfortunate incident, of course, but dialogue is about ‘real’ theological issues, is not it? Our African, Latin American, and Asian friends rightly argued that dialogue basically is about life, about a common responsibility in terms of justice and peace, and therefore presupposes an atmosphere of respect and recognition. My personal theological development makes me interested in issues like the Petrine office, episcopacy, sacramentality of the church, etc. I like to do research in historical backgrounds, text analysis, conceptual comparison, and so on. But I have learned, at least a bit, to ask myself questions about the relevance of all these kinds of issues. I would certainly be in favor of Reformed participation in an ecumenical dialogue on the primacy. But would it really leave room for a wider scale of input, both from outside and—more importantly—from within the Roman Catholic Church? What does this say about concepts of unity? The unity of the WARC is fragile and in a way not very committed. But it leaves room for a really open agenda—not set beforehand by the leading theological and ecclesial authorities. The unity of the Roman Catholic Church is well organized, hierarchical, and selective. In a way, the unity of the WARC is more inclusive—and to that extent more universal!—than the unity of the Roman Catholic Church.

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Unity and Diversity This brings me back to the issues of unity and diversity, which are directly related to the issues of universality and contextuality. This may also be the background of the much debated question of the interpretation of the well-known formula subsistit in. Vatican II undoubtedly took a step when it rephrased the relationship between the existing institutions of the Roman Catholic Church and the una sancta, the Church of Jesus Christ, saying that the one true Church “subsists in the Catholic Church, which is governed by the successor of Peter and by the Bishops in communion with him.”16 This clearly is not the same as a full blown identification, but Roman Catholic (and other ecumenical) theologians have given a wide range of interpretations of this wording. According to Jeffrey Gros, this diversity of interpretations as such provides frustrations for the ecumenical partners. This is certainly true as far as the impact on recognizing the ecclesiality of other Christian communities is concerned, as the discussions regarding Dominus Iesus have shown. But how decisive is the issue of subsistit in, in fact? When I once studied this issue, it struck me that the same verb is used in the Decree on Ecumenism, Unitatis Redintegratio. There we meet an inspiring vision of how Vatican II saw the goal of the ecumenical movement: “(W)hen the obstacles to perfect ecclesiastical communion have been gradually overcome, all Christians will at last, in a common celebration of the Eucharist, be gathered into the one and only Church in that unity which Christ bestowed on His Church from the beginning.”17 And than the Decree continues: “We believe that this unity subsists in the Catholic Church as something she can never lose, and we hope that it will continue to increase until the end of time.”18 It seems to me that this is a complicating sentence, which at least prevents a too open interpretation of subsistit in, for example, in terms of ‘is present in.’ It is imaginable that the Church of Christ is present in different churches at the same time and in more or less the same way. But I do not see how the unity of the Church of Christ

16 Lumen Gentium, § 8, http://www.vatican.va/archive/hist_councils/ii_vatican_ council/documents/vat-ii_const_19641121_lumen-gentium_en.html 17 Unitatis Redintegratio, § 4, http://www.vatican.va/archive/hist_councils/ii_vatican_council/documents/vat-ii_decree_19641121_unitatis-redintegratio_en.html 18 Unitatis Redintegratio, § 4; italics mine.

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can be present in different churches at the same time and in more or less the same way. Here, specific Roman Catholic structures seem to be implied in the interpretation of unity. This brings us back to the issue of episcopacy and primacy. A comparison with the church order of the Protestant Church in the Netherlands might be helpful. In article I–1 it begins with these words: “In accordance with its confession the Protestant Church in the Netherlands is shape of the one holy apostolic and catholic or universal Christian church which, sharing in the expectation granted to Israel, presses toward the arrival of the kingdom of God.”19 The Protestant Church in the Netherlands is ‘shape of the una sancta.’ This sentence might be comparable with: “the one Church of Christ which in the Creed is professed as one, holy, catholic and apostolic (. . .) subsists in the Catholic Church, which is governed by the successor of Peter and by the Bishops in communion with him.”20 My unofficial English translation of article I–1 is a bit odd, but I want to highlight the fact that the Dutch text has no article before ‘shape.’ It does not say ‘the shape,’ nor does it say ‘a shape.’ To say the former would be to say too much and could be interpreted in an exclusive and anti-ecumenical sense: only this church (at any rate in the Dutch context) manifests the una sancta. To say the latter would be to say too little, and could be understood in a relativistic way: the Protestant Church in the Netherlands is only one church among many manifestations of the una sancta—and that is no problem! This would not take seriously the ecumenical task. The text wants to leave this question unanswered, as a challenge to the church. Consequently, this notion is taken up again in article XVI–1, about the life and work of the church in an ecumenical perspective: “As shape of the one holy apostolic and catholic or universal Christian church, the church is called to seek and promote unity, fellowship and cooperation with other churches of Jesus Christ.” This article concludes the more theological part of the church order. The circle is closed. It is important for this church to be ‘shape of the una sancta,’ particularly for its ecumenical orientation. But here the

19 Dutch text: “De Protestantse Kerk in Nederland is overeenkomstig haar belijden gestalte van de ene heilige apostolische en katholieke of algemene christelijke Kerk die zich, delend in de aan Israël geschonken verwachting, uitstrekt naar de komst van het Koninkrijk van God.” Kerkorde en ordinanties van de Protestantse Kerk in Nederland inclusief de overgangsbepalingen (Zoetermeer: Boekencentrum, 2003), 9. 20 See above, footnote 15.

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question what unity could or should finally look like is not answered in any way. Both the Roman Catholic ‘subsistit in’ and the Dutch Protestant ‘shape of’ leave ample room for interpretation. But the impact in terms of the possibility of recognizing other churches as ‘churches in the proper sense’ is significantly different. From a Reformed perspective, other churches can easily be regarded as other shapes of the una sancta, as long as this does not hamper the ecumenical drive. Unity can be combined with quite a lot of diversity, and unity is not necessarily embodied in one church in a way superior to any other church. As I said, the Roman Catholic approach seems to be different, since it depends on a more elaborate concept of the visible unity required. Here Roman Catholic theology and Reformed theology have some homework to do—challenging each other. What does visible unity look like? Is there a way to find common ground? Or will our dialogue remain an asymptotic one? Let me highlight two specific questions in this respect. An important aspect of the issue is the interplay between local and universal levels of the church. In the Dutch context, relationships between the Roman Catholic Church and the Protestant Church in the Netherlands have become ever more formal over the last two decades. There is a polite way of meeting each other monthly in the National Council of Churches. But my own church tends to measure most of the results of ecumenical dialogue and co-operation according to the question to what extent local congregations can use them, and the Roman Catholic Church in fact does not take responsibility at all, but seeks the reaction of the universal church—for example, the Vatican—in such issues. Here, the local and the universal dimensions are mutually frustrating. I am not sure how any common theological endeavor might really take away the blockades. Maybe another important issue we should study together is the question how our ecclesiological and ecumenical concepts deal with ecclesial inertia. Karl Barth in his hamartiology analyzes sin from the perspective of inertia—slowness. It is an aspect of sin often neglected in Western theology.21 Sin is also drowsiness, laziness, self-sufficiency, the refusal to live the new life the Holy Spirit gives, not only in our

21 Cf. K. Barth, Kirchliche Dogmatik, IV2, (Zürich: EVZ-Verlag, 1964), 452–546, esp. 452v.

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personal lives, but also in ecclesial relationships. Is that not also what often basically hampers the reception of ecumenical theological results in church life and church polity? Our ecclesiological concepts tend to be rather idealistic, if not naïve: we speak about the church as it should be rather than about the church as it is in reality. The issue of sin in the church, or sin of the church, is not a very academic issue, but—first of all—an extremely practical one. And it seems to be a neglected one as well.

Final Remarks From the very beginning, Jeffrey Gros, in his article, approaches the issue of church unity from the aspect of the need for the healing of memories, in order to enhance our local common witness. This is appropriate, and not only so in the context of the Balkans or more specifically Transsylvania. It is true, of course, that this part of the world has had its own experiences both with religious freedom and with inter-religious and interchurch struggle. And even today ecumenical mutual understanding and inter-religious tolerance are not self-evident in this area. But is that not also true for major parts of the rest of the world? We have to be aware from the very beginning that our discussions about church unity are far more than an interesting academic exchange about theological concepts that are based on thorough historical explorations and nuanced interpretations of authoritative texts. Their horizon is determined by Christian people on the grassroots level who simply are no longer able to understand why disunity should be accepted, albeit for the time being, and by a society in need of a reliable message of hope. Church unity has to be part of this message, if relevant at all. That is also why in the long run we cannot afford an asymptotic dialogue. Ecumenical theological work has to go on, whether churches are ready to receive its results or not. I think that Jeffrey Gros’ contribution—and I hope that my contribution—has made it clear that Reformed ecclesiology cannot but accept the challenge of a Roman Catholic understanding of unity—and vice versa.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

ECUMENICAL THEOLOGY AND THE UNITY OF THE CHURCH A REFORMED UNDERSTANDING OF ECUMENICAL ENGAGEMENT AND THE UNITY OF THE CHURCH Setri Nyomi

Commitment to the Unity of the Church The ecumenical family has generally drawn its inspiration for doing biblical ecumenical theology from passages such as the High Priestly prayer in John 17—especially the second part of the 11th verse and the 21st verse. These passages suggest that visible unity among Christians and churches is—among other things—the desire of God, has as a standard the unity of the Triune God, and has a missional objective. . . .protect them by the power of your name—the name you gave me—so that they may be one as we are one. . . . that all of them may be one, . . . just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me.1

In the period leading up to the 1910 Edinburgh Missionary Conference, and after it, many had the vision of working actively towards the visible unity of the church. The formation of the World Council of Churches, some of the decrees that came out of the 2nd Vatican Council, and the work done in theological dialogues between and among communions constituted some of the signs of hope along the way. That most people who participate in the ecumenical movement are committed to Christian unity in some form is without doubt. However, the vision of what constitutes the unity of the church has not always been clear. Therefore, today we cannot talk about just one ecumenical theology. There are a number of trends in ecumenical theology. One can identify two main trends today: the trend that has remained faithful to working towards visible unity of the church literally; and

1

John 17:11b & 21.

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the trend that indicates that visible unity will not be achieved in this world, and therefore the energy of theological interpretation around the unity of the church, as well as related actions, should be directed towards enhancing the spiritual unity that already exists. The Reformed family, like some other Christian world communions, reflects these two trends within itself. However, to truly appreciate Reformed commitment to church unity, one has to go back to the 16th century. The World Alliance of Reformed Churches (WARC) and many of its member churches often trace our commitment to make efforts towards Christian unity to the inspiration received from John Calvin’s letter written to Archbishop Thomas Cranmer in 1552: in that letter he indicated that he was ready to cross ten seas in order to further the course of church unity. This statement made in an era in which the church had suffered a major division, and by a person whose writings often reflect disdain for the Roman papacy, is remarkable. Calvin attached great importance to church unity, and saw it as something that the church should work towards. Being one of the theological ancestors of the churches that belong to the WARC, Calvin’s writings have, therefore, set the tone for working towards church unity, which has become an important part of the life of WARC and its member churches. At its first General Council in 1877, the following report was given of one of the sessions focused on what was known then as ‘foreign mission fields’: Their immediate preoccupation was to develop practical co-operation between the Churches of the Reformed family in the Mission field. But it was made clear that such a co-operation should not be at the expense of co-operation with non-Presbyterian Churches. The words of a Scottish delegate, Rev. Dr J.C. Herdman, are worth quoting: “We do not crave increased Presbyterian co-operation at the expense of that which is wider and more catholic. We are above all things Christian: ‘Presbyterian’ only at a secondary rate; and I hope we shall be agreed to seek no closer bonds among ourselves in the foreign field, which would tend to separate us from others whom we acknowledge (and ought to love) as equally loyal to the Crucified-Risen Redeemer.”2

This is a concrete sign of the importance that WARC and its predecessor bodies attach to thinking ecumenically. In a more recent statement,

2

Marcel Pradervand, A Century of Service: A History of the World Alliance of Reformed Churches 1875–1975 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1975), 29.

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the final document of the study of the Reformed Self-understanding which was presented to the 23rd General Council in Debrecen, Hungary declared: The Reformed heritage also includes participation in the movement to fulfil the call to unity expressed in the High Priestly prayer. Many Reformed denominations have taken the lead in uniting movements. Today, as a result of this, most united and uniting churches continue to be associated with the Reformed family.3

By including this in one of the key elements of Reformed self understanding, we are asserting how serious we take the gift of Christian unity and the call to work towards it. The work of WARC to heal divisions, the bilateral dialogues, its engagement in mission in unity—for several years together with the John Knox Centre, its commitment to working closely with other Christian world communions, and its impatience with the slow response to the process of engagement together in ecumenical assemblies is all signs of this commitment.

Divisions If this brief sketch that I have outlined here is true, then what went wrong? The fact is that a look at the Reformed family has demonstrated a visible tendency to divide—a shameful trait that we cannot simply deny. Even the processes of creating united churches have often led in the Reformed family to further divisions—there are lingering Presbyterian, Reformed, and Congregational churches after church unions in Canada, Australia, USA, Zambia, South Africa, and other places. How is it that the Reformed family has come to be noted for its many divisions when I have traced such a rich heritage that values Christian unity? While in practice there are so many visible signs of disunity, there is very little evidence to suggest that this is because there are elements of Reformed theology that favor a tendency to divide. Neither is there much evidence to support an assertion that, theologically speaking, the unity of the church is not important for the Reformed heritage. This is why I started by reviewing evidence that suggests that Christian unity is very important within the Reformed theology and for our heritage.

3

Break the Chains of Injustice, WARC’s 23rd General Council Study Texts, 6.

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One cannot, however, blame it all on non-theological factors. Indeed, in reviewing the causes of many of the divisions, there some evidence that a good part of the divisions come out of the way in which we engage in biblical hermeneutics. As a family that values ‘sola scriptura,’ the study and application of scripture has become central to our self-understanding. When principles of biblical hermeneutics lead to different understandings within a community, there has been a human tendency to demonize the other side who see things differently, and eventually to justify division on that basis. In the interest of ‘purity of biblical interpretation,’ large sections of the Reformed family have been slow to learn the importance of valuing our unity in diversity. Another factor which is tangential to the theological is the kind of governing structures found in Reformed churches. Reformed Churches have generally developed clear democracy based processes of governance that can be described as containing both some ‘blessings’ and some ‘curses.’ The predominant ethos is to have national and/or regional structures organized in a system that facilitates decisions concerning church order and practice as well as mission engagements. This often means that before one structure engages meaningfully with another structure, even within the Reformed family or even within the same country, it has to respond to scrutiny within its own structures first. It then becomes even more complicated when such conversations towards the cause of Christian unity involve churches outside the Reformed tradition. This is one reason why any serious discussion of understanding the Reformed family as a communion becomes very challenging. These forms of governance serve the Reformed family well in terms of ensuring that the church’s life is meaningful and carried on within the bounds of decency and order. However, the same useful tools have been often used to foment division. Where there is a major disagreement, it has been easy to create a new church body and simply put in place a similar structure with no accountability to the body they have just separated from. It is this that leads to my conclusion that while division may not be because Reformed ecclesiology does not value the unity of the church, it may indeed be a reflection of the difficulty we have in thinking of ourselves as a communion. Therefore, a challenge for the 21st century is for Reformed churches to review this aspect of our self-understanding. Developing a self-understanding as a communion does not necessarily mean a yielding of autonomy. It does, however, entail a conscious effort to hold ourselves accountable as belonging to the

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same family of churches, and also in turn holds us accountable to the rest of the ecumenical family. The tendency of churches to divide and/or to do mission in disunited ways is a distraction which goes against the desire of the Lord of the church expressed in the high priestly prayer as described above. In addition to linking the world’s believing in him to the unity that will be among his people,4 Jesus also referred to love among his people as the means through which others will know who his disciples are.5 Therefore, we can observe that the absence of visible unity and the presence of divisions in the church constitute a major distraction. It is therefore a scandal, especially when it occurs as it often does in the family of churches for which I work—the Reformed family. However, Reformed concern about the unity of the church goes far beyond healing divisions within the Reformed family. We are also concerned about the lack of unity within the church as a whole. Apart from the visible divisions apparent in the countless number of denominations in the world, the church has often been divided as well on public and ethical issues. Many confessional bodies still have on record today historic condemnations that we have meted out to one another. Other signs of division include how until now sharing a common table is still very difficult for many world communions. We thank God for the work that has been done under the leadership of the World Council of Churches on Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry.6 We are grateful for ongoing bilateral dialogues in a number of confessional bodies. These processes of discussing doctrinal differences can be complex. We do not expect easy answers. But we can stay with the discussions, because they are important in order to keep the focus on the unity of the church. Whatever we do on internal doctrinal issues around which there are remarkable divisions, it is often how we express our differences on how we relate to society and societal issues that provides the most current forms of distraction in the quest for unity. Today people of faith are divided over attitudes to the economy, gender, race, sexual orientation, reproductive rights, what constitutes a war on terrorism,

4

John 17:21. John 13:35. 6 The Baptism Eucharist and Ministry, published by the WCC in 1982. This was an outcome of many years of painstaking work which led to very stimulating discussions within WCC member churches in the 1980s. 5

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the environment, Palestine-Israel, Iraq, etc. It is not the differences that are problematic. God did not call us into a boring uniformity. The problem is how we have let the differences divide us. It is therefore important that theologians devote energy to addressing these divisive tendencies so that we can truly be focused on welcoming the gift of unity offered by God to the church.

Unity of the Church—Some Directions within the Reformed Family The unity of the church is very important, and will remain high on the agenda of the World Alliance of Reformed churches. In so doing, we will be using what I stated in the first part of this presentation as a part of the heritage to challenge the reality within Reformed churches today. Such unity is not a call for uniformity or homogeneity that stifles the different gifts that are brought into the life of the church. While visible unity is important, it is very important to note that the missionary content of our oneness calls us to ask the question in such a way that involves taking all aspects of oneness seriously. While we pray and work towards appropriating the gift of visible unity, we may want to ask what the signs of that unity would be. 1. The unity achieved by the United Churches is very important. This is why we value them in the WARC family. We continue to pray that many more would follow those examples. The current move towards union between the World Alliance of Reformed Churches and the Reformed Ecumenical Council will hopefully serve as an example to the various churches and inspire them towards union within the Reformed family as well as with churches outside the Reformed family. 2. WARC’s own long time engagement in bilateral dialogues is yet another example especially in as much as it leads towards Reformed churches working with other communions to overcome divisive issues. These bilateral dialogues have lifted us above divisive issues with a number of communions. The most notable ones with whom we have actually agreed that there are no dividing issues on are the Disciples of Christ and Lutherans. 3. The healing of divisions within our churches. Reformed churches, as many of us know, are plagued with all kinds of divisions—constituting a shameful blight on our witness. Our efforts to heal such divisions

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are necessary in order to appropriate the unity for which our Lord Jesus Christ prayed. 4. Ecumenically minded Christian world communions such as the World Alliance of Reformed Churches continue to challenge its members to value ecumenical engagement and work towards the unity of the church. These four are normally not difficult to identify as signs of the work towards the visible unity of the church. However, there is a fifth sign which is often not considered in the literature of ecumenical theology. This fifth area involves the extent to which the constituents of the one church, built on the one foundation Jesus Christ our Lord, are also accountable one to another in life issues that confront the one church in different parts of the world. This is where some of us are convinced that the quest for the visible unity of the church will be closer to fulfilment only when the emphases on ‘Faith and Order’ and on ‘Life and Work’ are no longer seen as divergent commitments that draw different supporters. These two need to be literally united even as our Lord Jesus desires the church to be one—so that the world may believe. How can the one church be comfortable when one part suffers while another is wasteful? How can the one church be a reality when one part claims scripture as a base for blaming others for their poverty and suffering while the other part also sees inaction on the part of the churches living in more affluent parts of the world as less than Christian commitment. In the 1990s, in an attempt to bring the focus of Faith and Order and Justice, Peace and the Integrity of Creation closer together, the World Council of Churches organized three consultations. The one on ‘Costly Unity’ was held in Ronde, Denmark in 1993. A quotation from this report which caught my attention underscores the point I am making here: “Cheap Unity” avoids morally contested issues lest they disturb the unity of the church. Costly unity is discovering the churches’ unity as a gift of pursuing justice and peace, and often exacts a price.7

Any discussion of visible unity without taking into account the implications for holding one another accountable for our role in furthering 7 Thomas F. Best and Wesley Granberg Michaelson, eds, Costly Unity: Koinonia and justice, peace and creation (Geneva: WCC, 1993).

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justice and peace has been heavily criticized—mainly by the church in the global south. As voices from the global south and voices of women are heard more and more in the discussions, one expects more holistic approaches to the quest for Christian unity.

Some Concluding Remarks The movement for the visible unity of the church is very important for the Reformed family. While within the Reformed family and the church in general there is some tension between literal visible unity of the church and spiritual unity, the tension does not need to be another reason for division into two camps of opposites. Advocates of the visible unity of the church can have our cause enhanced if we see the two trends as being in a creative tension. Major contributions of the Reformed family to Christian unity will include healing the divisions in our own ranks, being more intentionally aware of the importance of the commitment towards Christian unity as central to our heritage, and working actively in initiatives towards church unity. Drawing from our Reformed heritage, the World Communion of Reformed Churches which will unite the World Alliance of Reformed Churches and the Reformed Ecumenical Council will continue in a role of challenging member churches towards unity within and outside of the Reformed family.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

‘NO POPERY’: A BLESSING OR A CURSE? MINISTRY AS AN INSTRUMENT OF UNITY WITHIN THE REFORMED TRADITION Eduardus Van der Borght

When Reformed theologians reflect on instruments used for strengthening the unity of the church, they tend to refer to sola Scriptura and the pure preaching of the gospel rather than human traditions that cause divisions, to the pure administration of the sacraments rather than unholy practices, to the unifying power of confessions, and to the necessity that church discipline enforces minimum standards of sound teaching and moral behavior—but not to ministry. By contrast, ecumenical documents regarding the church mention ministry time and again as a major issue that needs further clarification in order to support the unity of the church. Not only has mutual recognition of ministries become part of the way to enhance the visible unity of the church since the WCC General Assembly of 1961 in New Delhi, but ordained ministry itself has also been identified as a unifying element in each church.1 After describing the church’s history and its relation to the triune God, the latest 2005 edition of the ecclesiological study of the WCC, The Nature and Mission of the Church, reflects on eight gifts and resources for the life and the mission of the church in and for the world. In addition to apostolic faith, baptism, eucharist, and ministry of all the faithful, attention is paid to four aspects related to ministry: ordained ministry; personal, communal, and collegial aspects of oversight; conciliarity and primacy; and authority.2 Issues directly related to the unity of the church are at stake, such as mutual

1 The New Delhi Report: The Third Assembly of the World Council of Churches 1961 (New York: Association Press, 1962), 116 (statement on the unity of the church) and 121 (explanation on the phrase “ministry and members accepted by all”). 2 The Nature and the Mission of the Church: A Stage on the Way to a Common Statement, Faith and Order Paper 198 (Geneva: World Council of Churches, 2005), 50–61.

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accountability and common decision making, primacy and the Petrine ministry, episcope and episcopacy, apostolicity and succession, interpretation of scripture, and tradition. More or less a fifth of the document—22 of its 118 paragraphs—is related to ministry. For those of us who find it difficult to suppress a scornful remark about Roman Catholic or Orthodox obsession with ministry, let me merely remind you that the ten chapters in book four of Calvin’s Institutes related to issues of ministry in the church, in fact, correspond with more or less a fifth of his major work. In this paper, I reflect on the discrepancy between the focus on ministry as a unifying force in all major Christian traditions and the relative silence on the issue within the actual Reformed tradition. I use the term ‘ministry’ in the way it usually is referred to in ecumenical literature, translated in German and Dutch with Am(b)t: the way the church is structured in order to optimize the proclamation of the gospel and the structuring of the church. In this structure a special responsibility is accredited to ordained ministry, relating to all aspects of episcope. I do not intend to explore issues such as episcope and episcopacy, or conciliarity and primacy—although they are important enough in relation to the unity of the church. Nor will I focus on the existing offices within the Reformed church. Instead, I will focus on the reason for the actual silence within the Reformed tradition about ministry in relation to unity and will propose a shift in approach to ministry in this respect.

Unity with Christ versus Unity with the Ministry of the Church In order to trace the reason for this remarkable lack of connection between ministry and unity of the church in the Reformed tradition, we have to go back in time. After Pope Leo X had condemned 41 errors of Luther in Exsurge Domine, Luther was invited to renounce his views at the Diet of Worms in April 1521. His main theological adversary, Johannes Eck, challenged him to reject his books with the errors they contained—since he had no right to teach contrary to the church of the ages, to which Luther replied: Unless I am overcome by the testimony of Scripture or by clear reason (for I believe neither the pope nor the councils by themselves), I remain conquered by the Scriptures which I have adduced. As long as my conscience

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is captive to the words of God, I neither can nor will recant, since it is neither safe nor right to act against conscience. God help me, Amen.3

For many Protestants even today, the attitude and words of Luther on that occasion symbolize what Protestantism is all about: the courage to withstand wrong and oppressive teaching of the church sustained by the hierarchy and the teaching office of the church. Scripture is the final criterion for the tradition of the ages. Let us now go from an iconic Protestant event to an iconic Reformed writing: the letter from Calvin to Cardinal Sadolet. Cardinal Sadolet was the bishop of Carpentras. He sympathized with Erasmus and Melanchton and had written to the city of Geneva, interpreting their situation in 1539 as heretic and schismatic. He had pleaded with them to return to the Church of Rome. In his reply, as a proof of his clear conscience before God, Calvin inserts a prayer in which he states: Always, both by word and deed, I have protested how eager I was for unity. Mine, however, was a unity of the Church, which should begin with thee and end in thee. . . . But if I desired to be at peace with those who boasted of being the heads of the Church and pillars of faith I behoved to purchase it with the denial of thy truth. . . . Nor did I think that I dissented from thy Church, because I was at war with those leaders; for thou hast forewarned me both by thy Son and by the apostles, that that place would be occupied by persons to whom I ought by no means to consent. Christ had predicted not of strangers, but of men who should give themselves out for pastors, that they would be ravenous wolves and false prophets, and had, at the same time cautioned to beware of them.4

These are not just words written at the height of the conflict in the 16th century—they still resonate deeply in the souls of many Reformed Christians. They express a core aspect of their Christian identity: Unity with the church depends on whether the leadership of the church maintains the truth of scripture, or at least the believers’ understanding of that truth. Unity with the church becomes conditional because the unity with Christ and the apostles has to be distinguished from the unity with the church and its leadership. Christ is the head of his

3 Scott H. Hendrix, Luther and the Papacy: Stages in a Reformation Conflict (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1981), 133. 4 John O. Collins (ed.), A Reformation Debate: Sadoleto’s Letter to the Genevans and Calvin’s Reply (Grand Rapids: Baker Book House, 1976), 85.

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church, not the pope, nor the bishop, nor the parish priest, nor the teaching office. Our salvation exclusively depends on Christ—not on the church and its teaching. The yoke of the hierarchy is broken because we all are priests before God. We no longer need the mediation of the church and its priests. And finally, each local congregation has direct access to Christ. In short, no popery! Calvin’s letter to Sadolet illustrates the deep impact that the experience of trust being abused by the church leadership—its popes, bishops, and teaching office—have had on the Reformed tradition. Unity with the church is no guarantee for the unity with Christ. On the contrary, unity with the church might be opposed to unity with Christ. The result was not only a rejection of the structures of ministry within the Church of Rome, but ‘no popery’ also became an expression for the tendency of approaching ministerial structures in the church very critically, even with distrust. The cloud of suspicion never parted over the Reformed structures of the church. Even synods, church councils and the offices—especially the office of the minister of the Word—could and can only be trusted conditionally. Unity with the church leadership never is equated self-evidently with unity with Christ and the apostles. Just as child abuse of vulnerable children has devastating, often permanent, results, so it seems that the historical experience of abuse of power by the church authorities has caused a similar unease with or distrust of church authorities until today. How can you ever trust authorities once they have let you down so badly? In this context a small parenthesis with an hypothesis: Could it be that within the Lutheran tradition the wounds of this experience were better healed because of the system of civil authorities functioning as ‘emergency bishops’? Whatever the answer, for the Reformed tradition the church and its hierarchical structure has proved its potential for church division and, as a consequence, has never been recovered as a unifying force. The communion with the institutional church is conditional, and ordained ministry can never be fully trusted. The fundamental thesis of this paper is that this suspicion in the institutional church and its ministry is not only a core aspect of Reformed identity, but also a problematic aspect, and it has largely contributed to the problem of unity in the Reformed tradition. Each Christian tradition experiences regular, often fierce, discussions in order to establish the optimal way to safeguard the Christian tradition in a specific context. These discussions may last for generations, even centuries, during which many faithful suffer from the direction

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taken by their church. But different than the Reformed tradition, they seldom cause a complete rupture of communion and unity with the church and its leadership. The early church developed three instruments to protect the church from those inside and outside who undermined the unity of the church: the canon of scriptures as the ultimate point of reference, confessions as the agreed core of the tradition, and ministry as a personified instrument for safeguarding continuity and unity with the tradition. The development of these three tools was influenced by many contextual elements, but in general this evolution has been recognized as the work of the Holy Spirit. The Reformed tradition accepted the canon and the confessions of the early church as authoritative, but because of the devastating experiences with church leadership in the 16th century, ministry was never able to develop its unifying potential in this tradition. The ecumenical partners challenge Protestant traditions to contemplate this inconsistency. Do the Reformed lack a basic trust that ministry is a gift of God for the church? It is my observation that, in general, the basic suspicion has not changed within the Reformed tradition. Reformed theologians tend to walk on the path of confirming the suspicion against ministry in the church. Some like to surf on the post-modern wave of deconstruction of power claims. Some stress collegiality, but remain silent about the need for personal leadership on the level beyond the local. Some tend to wipe away the difference between the ordained ministry of the pastor and the local ministries of elders and deacons. The vocation without time limits tends to be lost in continuing professionalization and functionalization. In recent years, it is not unity, but diversity that has become the favorite tune. Sometimes the attention for the institutional aspect of the church is understood as being in contradiction with the mission of the church. Some understand the problems with church leadership in other traditions as a confirmation of the truth of the Reformed suspicion against ministry, whereas the sectarian tendency in the Reformed tradition tends to be silently accepted. Some plead for a second reformation of the church in which the ordained ministry, as a relic of the past, is removed in order to more radically promote the priesthood of all believers.

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Another approach is necessary to rediscover the unity potential of ministry. The rest of this lecture, inspired by Calvin and ecumenical theology, offers steps on the way to such an alternative road. Ministry is a Gift The church is a human organization. Each organization tries to meet its objectives. Most types of organizations have people in leadership positions who are in charge of finding the most effective and successful way of reaching the goals of the organization. The church should never be afraid of learning from this anthropological approach. In recent decades this approach has become popular, as can be deduced from the many publications on leadership in the church. In the Reformed culture of suspicion towards the church and ordained ministry, it is attractive to restrict the understanding of the church to this anthropological approach. This reduction contradicts the Christian faith as it is expressed in the main confessions of the early church on the una sancta as the work of the Holy Spirit. The church and ministry are a gift of God. Calvin begins his ecclesiology with the observation that God has provided the external means we need for keeping our faith. The first means he mentions is the church with its pastors and doctors with a reference to Eph. 4:11, before the sacraments and the civil order.5 The often cited words of Calvin on the church as a mother are to be found here. She is not only the God-provided context where faith is begotten, but also the place that we must continue to be part of until our death. This church provides this mother function only through the proclamation of the gospel by its ministers. It is God’s ordo to work in this way—as He had already instituted for Israel when he not only provided the law but also priests as interpreters. The rest of this chapter is a plea for the visible church with its ordained ministers in contradiction to the tendency of Radical Reformers to dismiss the visible church. Calvin’s discussion of ordained ministry begins with the observation that it is the choice of that God who rules his church through his Word to use the service of humans.6

5 6

Institutes IV, 1, 1. Institutes IV, 3, 1.

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Ecumenical literature uses the expressions “the personal nature of the Christian gospel and ministry,” and “the scandal of particularity as a modus operandi of God.”7 A fundamental cause for the sectarian tendency within the Reformed churches and theology seems to be the loss of faith in the church and ordained ministry as God’s gift for his people. Instrument of Unity For Calvin, offices are not only a sign of gracious esteem towards people and an exercise in humility, but also the best guarantee for the bond of love and unity because the believers are dependent on the pastor’s instruction; they are unable to believe while they retain their proud self-sufficiency. And then he refers to Eph. 4 where the call for one body, one Spirit, one hope, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, and one God and Father is followed by the gifts of Christ: ministries such as apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors, and teachers. These gifts are related to the one church of the one God.8 In the ecumenical discourse the word used for ministry is “a focus of the unity of the church.”9 Ordained ministry is a function of keeping us related to Christ—and through him to the triune God—and to keep us related to the local church and to the one church of God worldwide. An anthropological approach could easily lead to the idea that the success of the leadership in the church can be measured in terms of quantitative growth or in terms of impact in society, but ministry as God’s gift for unity should be measured in terms of keeping the faithful in Christ and related to the church. Symbol of Unity The way Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry (BEM) describes ministry reveals that it does not only use functional language, but also symbolic language. The need for a person who keeps reminding the community

7 Eduardus Van der Borght, Theology of Ministry: A Reformed Contribution to an Ecumenical Dialogue (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2007), 417–9. 8 Institutes IV, 3, 1. 9 § 8 of the Ministry part in Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry, Faith and Order Paper 111 (Geneva: World Council of Churches, 1982).

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that its missionary calling is centered on Christ leads to a central place for this person in the middle of the community on which God has bestowed his gifts of grace. Because of his function, he is given a central role. The person who points to Jesus Christ, the source of unity, becomes the focal point of unity. Ministers build up the community around Christ as if it were his body by undertaking the following tasks: proclaiming and teaching the Word, celebrating the sacraments, and giving leadership. In carrying out these tasks, they take on the role of representing Christ. They are identified with the person to whom they refer. From their function as representatives of Christ, they play a unifying role in the community. Because they constantly point to Christ, the ministers themselves become a center of unity for the life and witness of the community and for the union with Christ. The symbolic function carried out by the ordained minister, consists of three different elements: 1. representing Christ vis-à-vis the community, 2. representing the unity of the body of Christ in the local faith community, and 3. representing the unity of the local faith community in a wider ecclesiastical context. Where understanding ministry as an instrument of unity can be understood as a challenge, understanding ministry as a symbol of unity means becoming aware of its potential. The Reformed tradition has developed a reticence about using symbolic language when dealing with ministry. The fear that ministers will take the place of Christ as Lord of the church and the fear that this language may lead to an ontological understanding of ministry are unmistakable. Again, we recognize the sensitivity towards legitimating a possible misuse of power. Calvin can help us to overcome our reluctance of using symbolic language to express the ministry of ministers. He is not able to avoid representative language when describing ministry.10 The reason for this can be found in Calvin’s point of departure: the awareness that this is the way in which God appears to communicate with us; namely, that he chooses individual people and calls them to be his spokespersons. It is precisely potential for symbolic unity which ministry has that should encourage Reformed theology to reformulate ministry in a stronger symbolic language. The difference with the Roman Catholic and Orthodox traditions should not be a dislike of symbolic expressions

10

Van der Borght, Theology of Ministry, 55.

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when describing ministry, but a great freedom to express this representation of Christ in ever new and different metaphors. We must avoid the temptation to express this symbolism in strongly dogmatic tinted terminology, such as in persona Christi or icon of Christ, which tends towards shibboleth. This permanently tentative attitude is caused by the Reformed sensitivity to ontologization and misuse of ministry, and the knowledge that a symbol loses its power if it becomes completely unambiguous. In addition, in the ecumenical discussion there is a permanent task for the Reformed tradition to emphasize that the symbolic representation of Christ does not happen in isolation from service to the Word and celebration of the sacraments. The ordained minister represents the Lord because he has been called to proclaim the Lord’s ‘story’ in word and sign and to encourage and admonish in the midst of people’s life stories as they happen. Re-evaluation of the Ministerial Assignment If ministry is understood as being an instrument and a symbol of unity with Christ and with the church, then the ministerial tasks can be reevaluated in terms of explaining the Word, proclaiming the gospel, and celebrating the sacraments. First of all, in interpreting scripture, we should always be aware of the fact that we are not the first to read it, but stand in a long tradition of reading it. Adding our own voice should humble us. It will often mean that we are aware of the fact that one text has produced various legitimate interpretations. As a consequence, being responsible for the unity of the church in most cases will mean that we allow for various interpretations of scripture and explanations of our faith. It should not lead to uniformity, but rather to diversity in unity. Second, if—in essence—it is the minister’s task is to keep the congregation linked to Christ and his church, then the proclamation should not focus on the minister’s individual belief, but on the belief of the church. Third, if ministry is a function of the unity of the church, it becomes understandable why most other Christian traditions stress the role of the minister at the Lord’s Supper. The Eucharist is the place par excellence to express the unity with Christ and one another. The underdevelopment of the sacramental task of ordained ministry within the Reformed tradition is directly linked to the lack of awareness of its unifying potential.

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Unity beyond the Level of the Local Personal leadership on the level beyond the local, episcopacy, and primacy—all are aspects of ministry about which there tends to be little development and experience within the Reformed tradition. If we opt not to reduce the church to the congregational level, and if one is convinced that episcope should not only be expressed by collegial and communal structures, then a plea for strengthening the unity of the church through personal episcope, on the regional level being exercised by bishops and on the universal level by a petrine ministry, becomes attractive. Personally, I am convinced that an episcopal structure will be beneficial for the unity of the church. The question does not so much seem to be whether or not to choose for an episcopal structure; but rather, which kind of bishop would be best. In recent years, important theological work on this issue has been done by Faith and Order.11 Another important ecumenical event has been John Paul II’s invitation to other Christian traditions to help improve the Petrine ministry of the pope (Ut Unum Sint). Reformed Christians should not only respond just to help the Roman Catholic Church, but also to reflect on ways in which to strengthen their own understanding of the unity of the church on the universal level.

Conclusion In recent decades, the Protestant Reformers of the 16th century have been rediscovered as Catholic theologians for whom the unity of the church was a major issue. They did not intend to establish an alternative denomination to the existing church, but they intended to reform the existing church. When the Protestant Reformation ultimately led to separate denominations, ministry in the church lost much of its unifying power. Theology of ministry within the Reformed tradition developed two basic lines of thought. One was the divisive tendency to distinguish fundamentally between unity with Christ and the apostles, on the one side, and unity with the church and its ministry, on the other side. The other was the defensive tendency—as in all the other churches—to

11 Peter C. Bouteneff and Alan D. Falconer (eds.), Episkopé and Episcopacy and the Quest for Visible Unity, Faith and Order Paper 183 (Geneva: World Council of Churches, 1999).

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understand theology of ministry as a sensitive issue that related to the core of the legitimacy of the denomination. ‘No popery’ was not only a blessing, expressing liberation from an oppressive hierarchy, it finally led to a curse—a sectarian, self-destructive tendency. In the wake of the rediscovery of the Catholic Reformers and the unifying intentions of the Protestant Reformers, time has come for Reformed theologians to explore the unifying potential of ministry within the church.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

OFFICE AS AN INSTRUMENT OF UNITY Allan Janssen

In this short contribution, I intend to focus on the Reformed notion of ‘office.’ It is more usual to use the more general term ‘leadership’ when thinking of the ministry of the church. The very characteristic that gives place to this term, however, betrays an ambiguity that is, in fact, unhelpful. To see how this is so, I review how the Reformed understand church order. In this way, we can more closely examine how office can, and does, function as an instrument of unity. If Reformed church order understands governance as executed in assembly or council by the offices as they are gathered, then governance is a function of the ordained ministry. However, these bodies often grant their authority to a number of persons who act as the ‘executive’ of the body, more often in our age of late modernity—at least in church governance, we are still in the age of modernity—this leadership function is given to professionals hired to function as the ‘leadership’ of the church. Noting this reality clarifies a number of matters. First, it allows me to enter a terminological distinction between ‘ministry’ and ‘office.’ Ministry is the term used in ecumenical documents. That term is, however, also ambiguous. The church is served by myriads of ‘ministries,’ from the ministry of Word and sacrament to ministries of children’s education, to ministries of service. Office, in contrast, allows us to think of ordained ministries in a more disciplined manner. And indeed, this is helpful—particularly as we Reformed talk about the offices of minister, elder, and deacon. Indeed, a number of Reformed churches worldwide are struggling with the notion of office, as the press for non-ordained leadership of congregations, presence in the pulpit, and presidency at the Lord’s Table becomes ever more pressing. The use of the notion of office in the context of assemblies and leadership is helpful because it highlights the notion of ordination, and with ordination, the apostolic nature of the church. Because the apostolicity of the church is not borne by bishops as extensions of the

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office of the apostle, Reformation churches located apostolicity in the apostolic message, or scripture. But how is faithfulness to that message now to be symbolized? I would argue that apostolicity effects unity in the church; the church is gathered by the one story. This story is told in a multitude of languages and heard in many ways. Nonetheless, it is the One who calls, the One who hears the cry of the people, and the One who acts to save. This is the viva vox whose store shapes and forms this particular and peculiar people. It is the assembly, understood as the offices that gather, that bears apostolic responsibility as it ordains ministers of Word and sacrament who are themselves the bearers of the story. This roots the offices of the church in the office of the apostle. A.A. van Ruler famously maintained that the apostle is an office not in the church but in the kingdom (he took this notion in turn from Ph.J. Hoedemaker).1 This is important in the context of our discussion because this makes clear that the ministry of which we speak—the ministry that effects unity—does not emerge from the church itself. Nor does it emerge from the doctrine of the church. As such, ministry or office comes from without, from the outside. It comes, as God uses the ministry as an instrument of unity. God uses persons who bring the apostolic message. This is a unity, thus, that does not emerge from a human notion of the value, quality, or content of unity. This is a unity that stands vis-à-vis idealism. That is, this is not a unity that arises from the ideals either set forth by the leadership of the church or the ideals of the membership of the church reflected by the leadership. It is true that the Spirit works not only ‘from above,’ but also ‘from below.’ Office not only emerges from Christ but also in the Spirit. It is the notion of office itself that symbolizes someone else. Office signals that the Christ in whom we are one is an alien Christ. “I am the way, the truth and the life,” he says. I am. This is a unity that is anthropocentric only as it comes to us from the One who is not only truly one of us, but who is also not one of us, and so draws us into his unity. In this way, the assemblies themselves take on the character of office. They are, in a Dutch phrase untranslatable into English in its entire connotation, ambtelijke vergaderingen. Not just an ‘official gathering,’ or a ‘gathering of office-bearers,’ but a gathering that itself bears the

1

A.A. van Ruler, Bijzonder en algemeen ambt (Nijkerk: G.F. Callenbach, 1952), 28.

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character of office. This is not the elected leadership sharing its collective wisdom with the church. This is the presence of Christ who comes to the church and who brings the critical word to those who often enough arrogate illegitimate authority to themselves. Third, the presence of the three offices (or two) in the councils of the church presents us with both a possibility and a problem. The possibility emerges from the theological foundation of office. Office represents the God who is present in Christ through the Holy Spirit. It is as the third person of the Trinity finds instrument in literally countless ways that the plurality of the offices symbolize God’s variegated approach to the church. This is not a plea for the offices of elder or deacon. Nor is it intended as a defense of the famous Reformed ‘trio.’ It is to acknowledge that as it is the Spirit who acts in the establishment of the offices, that same Spirit acts in a multitude of ways. This view of office understands the Spirit who makes one not as a Spirit who calls into existence one office only, not even one office that opens into more than one. As Ephesians 4 has it, there is a “unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.” “There is one body and one Spirit. . . .” The next sentence begins: “Each of us was given grace according to the measure of Christ’s gift. . . .” The one Spirit fans out, if you will, into a multitude. “The gifts that he gave were that some would be apostles, some evangelists, some pastors and teachers. . . .” God’s presence is prismatically directed through the Spirit. How this fits together in the full-fledged ministry of the church has ever been a topic of discussion. But it is one that the Reformed can have and can offer to the church catholic. This is, however, problematic, and it is so in two ways. It is not clear how the three offices relate to one another in Reformed churches. I would argue that the ministry of the Word has a certain priority within the church—as an instrument of unity. It should be so because the subject of unity is not the belief of the church, nor the activity of the church, nor the faith of the church, but the living Word himself. The living center of the church exists eccentric to the human congregation as the second person “in Word and Spirit gathers, protects and preserves for himself, in the unity of the true faith, a congregation chosen for eternal life.”2 The second problem is that of the personal ministry of oversight. Reformed assemblies have yet to free themselves from the fear of sin-

2

Heidelberg Catechism, A54.

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gular authority and allow a person to symbolize the unity of the church instead of the gathered church. Here perhaps the confusion of ministry as a symbolic reality and as an exercise in power comes into play. Americans are particularly attuned to this as we have a presidency that unites both governance and symbol in one person. (But then the local minister him/herself functions both as an instrument of God’s work and a symbol of unity to the local congregation.) I conclude this short essay by noting that as office denotes that the apostolicity that gathers to unity comes from without, that office also comes from the future of the God whose love intends flourishing for God’s creation. Unity is eschatological. This is God’s future. It encompasses the human future. But God’s future includes the past and the present as well. Unity is both real and not yet realized. Office or ministry that comes from God emerges from that future as it simultaneously comes from the past. This is a unity that cannot come from us, from below. It comes from beyond and breaks in, as the One who speaks also gathers this people around one font and one table. As the liturgy of my church has it: “We come in hope believing that this bread and this cup are a feast and foretaste of the feast of love of which we shall partake when the kingdom has fully come.”3 The import of that claim is that while unity is a task of the church, it is borne in the reality of the One whose love calls the church forward. This is unity grounded in love—God’s love in Christ and through the Holy Spirit.

3 Worship the Lord: The Liturgy of the Reformed Church in America (New York: Reformed Church Press, 2005), 11.

PART FOUR

THE THEOLOGICAL BASIS FOR THE UNITY OF THE CHURCH

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

ONE GOD AND ONE CHURCH CONSIDERATIONS ON THE UNITY OF THE CHURCH FROM THE PERSPECTIVE OF BIBLICAL THEOLOGY Abraham van de Beek

The church is often described from the perspective of the Trinity.1 As such, this is right because, indeed, it is the church of the trinitarian God. It depends, however, very much on the kind of doctrine of Trinity we have what this implies for the church. In the context of a social Trinity, the community and plurality of the church might be stressed. There is, however, little evidence of a social Trinity in scripture or in the earliest church history. Actually the doctrine was developed by the Cappadocian theologians after the church had become politically and culturally influential. At the beginning, ecclesiology was founded on the unity of the one God and is therefore as strict as the shema of Deuteronomy 6. In this article, we will relate the unity of the church not to the persons of the Trinity as a social community, but as perspectives on the presence of the one God. It does not matter whether we relate it to the Father, the Son, or the Spirit. In each case, we deal with the same one God and his same one church. The various perspectives will display only different aspects of the unity of the church. The aspects I will deal with are the church as the people of God, as the body of Christ, and as the temple of the Holy Spirit. It looks like a trinitarian triplet, and I suppose it was intended to be so by the editors of the volume: one people of God; one body of Christ; one temple of the Spirit. Interpreting the three as related to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit can hardly be avoided. That, however, will disturb the whole of theology. The people of God are the people

1 E.g. M. Volf, After our Likeness: The Church as the Image of the Trinity (Grand Rapids/Cambridge: Eerdmans, 1998).

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of Christ. Thus we cannot replace the words in the title ‘the people of God’ by ‘the people of the Father.’ That conclusion should make us more careful in using seemingly trinitarian triplets—and even more careful to use the word ‘God’ for the Father only in distinction to the Son. We are the people of the Father because we are the people of Jesus through the one Spirit who is God. Without keeping this in mind, we will lose the unity of God and, by consequence, the unity of the people of God. God’s coming implies the unification of the people of God. That must be a trigger for all those separated denominational churches to make up their mind—not just about their ecclesiology, but even more about their theology in a strict sense: the doctrine of God. The ‘persons’ are not a community, but they are the one and same God three times. This perspective on the church will provide us with a view of the church different from a founding on a social Trinity or a Trinity wherein the actions and identities of the persons are clearly distinguished. The unity of the one God and his one church will just be repeated thrice, each from a different perspective, and as a consequence, the unity will be much more compelling.

The One People of God When we speak about the people of God in scripture, first of all we should think about Israel. It is clear, however, that in the New Testament it is also—at least also—about the church. Phillipe Theron, in his dissertation,2 argues that various motives that are used for Israel in the Old Testament are applied to the church in the New, and since he also focuses on the unity of the church, his work can be the basis on which we can start. We can take a further step when we consider the research that has been done in the past decades on the relationship of the church and Israel.3 There are three positions about that relationship that cause

2 P.F. Theron, Die Ekklesia as Kosmies-eskatologiese teken: Die Eenheid van die Kerk as “Profesie” van die Eskatologiese Vrede [Raad vir Geesteswetenskaplike Navorsing Publikasiereeks 66] (Pretoria: N.G. Kerkboekhandel, 1978). 3 See my extensive study on Israel in Christian theology: De kring om de Messias: Israël als volk van de lijdende Heer (The Circle around the Messiah. Israel as the people of the suffering Lord) (Zoetermeer: Meinema, 2002).

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substantial theological problems. The first is the idea of two paths: both Israel and the church are paths to salvation. It seems to me that it is difficult to speak about the one people of God in this case—and since it involves the core of God’s benevolence, God’s very unity is at stake. Traditionally, therefore, the idea of a replacement of Israel by the church was common in Christian theology. Then, however, although the people of God are one, the unity of God’s promises is in danger. If there is no continuity from the historical Israel, is there continuity at all? Therefore, a third model would seem to be more promising: incorporation of the Gentiles into the people of God. But in that case, God’s coming in Christ would not be a real new event and the existence of the church as such seems superfluous. Proselytism seems to be enough. The problem is that most present day theologians have been so very much trained in historical thinking that we are inclined to begin with the Old Testament and God’s people—thus with Israel—and subsequently with the New Testament and the church as the people of God. As a consequence, we have to explain the relationship between them. In my present research on eschatology,4 I have become increasingly aware of how tricky the concept of time is. Therefore, I decided for this article to reverse the sequence: beginning with the New Testament first and subsequently seeing how it is related to the Old Testament. This approach certainly granted me new insights. Although there are many references to the church as the people of God in the New Testament, there are only a few direct quotations from the Old Testament that explicitly reflect on this designation. The most important are: 1. Hebrews 8:10: “This is the covenant I will make with the house of Israel after that time, declares the Lord: I will put my laws in their minds and write them on their hearts. I will be their God, and they will be my people” (with a combi-citation from Zechariah 8:8 and Jeremiah 31:33): the new covenant has come and the promise of the prophets has been fulfilled in Christ. The people of the new covenant are the new laos theou. 2. Romans 9:24–26 (with reference to Hosea 1:10 and 2:22): “. . . us, whom he also called, not only from the Jews but also from the Gentiles?” As he says in Hosea: “I will call them ‘my people’ who are not my people;

4 A. van de Beek, God doet recht: Eschatologie als Christology (God does Justice: Eschatology as Christology) (Zoetermeer: Meinema, 2008).

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abraham van de beek and I will call her ‘my loved one’ who is not my loved one,” and “[it] will happen that in the very place where it was said to them, ‘You are not my people,’ they will be called ‘sons of the living God.’” Here the focus is not so much on the relation of Old and New as in Hebrews, but on Israel and the Gentiles. Although the Gentiles were not God’s people, the prophet already announced that those who where not God’s people would become so. 3. 1 Peter 2:9f: “You are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light. Once you were not a people, but now you are the people of God; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.” Neither the Old and New, nor the relationship of Israel and the church is debated here; rather, the character of the community of those who believe in Christ is argued. They should live according to this reality because they are God’s people and thus they should be holy.5 The reference to Hosea implies that Peter presupposes that they are transferred from not being God’s people to being so, and thus the text comes close to Romans 9: the Gentiles have received the privileges and calling of God’s people.

These verses seem to justify the conclusion that the Gentiles, who were not the people of God, have become so through faith. And since Romans 9 speaks about both Jews and Gentiles, it is reasonable to think about a church consisting of Jews and Gentiles as the people of God. That fits in with Ephesians 2: the wall that separated the Gentiles from the people of God has been broken down and they are full citizens of the politeia tou Israel. The stress on unity in Ephesians excludes a two way model, and both Romans and Ephesians provide strong arguments against a replacement model. Thus the insertion model seems the most obvious. Then, however, it is hard to understand why the New Testament makes so much of the coming of Christ as an eschatological event and a completely new action of the Lord. Tendencies to incorporate Gentiles into Israel already existed before and proselytes were many. The New Testament, however, does not present the birth of the church as a new wave of proselytism. It is no less than a new creation.6 A closer view of the cited texts will help us further. At first sight, it seems that Romans 9 and 1 Peter 2 give arguments for the acceptance of Gentiles into the people of God—they were once not God’s people, 5 6

Cf. 2 Cor. 6:16; Tit. 2:14. 2 Cor. 5:17.

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but now they are. For the Jews nothing changed: they were and are the people of God. However, the verses quoted from Hosea are not about the Gentiles, but about Israel itself. Due to their sins, the Lord has rejected them as his people: “Then the Lord said, ‘Call him Lo-Ammi, for you are not my people, and I am not your God’.”7 And the promise of God’s grace is that those who are not his people will be made so by Him: “In the place where it was said to them, ‘You are not my people,’ they will be called ‘sons of the living God’.”8 So, we must conclude that neither Gentiles nor Jews are God’s people. The first because they never were so, and the latter due to their sin, whereby they where like the Amorite.9 They all lived in darkness and the Lord brought them into his wonderful light.10 All of them were dead in sins and evil. Therefore, says Paul, “there is no difference, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” “There is no difference, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God—and are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus.”11 It is only in Christ that Jews and Gentiles are saved, and it is only by Him that they are the people of God. He saved them by his death. I will not deal here extensively with soteriology. For now, it is sufficient to mention that salvation is by the death of Jesus, and that those who are saved participate in his death and resurrection. There is not a continuous line from the Israel of the Old Testament to the church, but the line was broken by death due to sin. Only by Jesus’ sharing the death of the sinners are sinners saved, both Jews and Gentiles. Ephesians (1:14) says that because they are owned by Him, they are his possession. The concept of ownership is interesting here. They are people who belong to Him—thus his own people. Here the Old Testament motive of the heritage, the nahala comes in. As Israel was God’s own heritage, so the church is Christ’s heritage—as the new people of God. We should not overlook this: the people of God are, in the New Testament, the people of Christ. Christ is the coming of Israel’s God to his people, as Thomas Wright recently has extensively

7 8 9 10 11

Hos. 1:9. Hos. 1:10. Cf. Ez. 16:3, 45. 1 Peter 2:9. Rom. 3:23f.

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argued in a whole series of books.12 And his coming in Christ is his ultimate love: sharing their death and being where they are. In this way, his coming is the restoration of the people of God. Death and restoration are key motives in the new covenant of the people of God. God comes to those who are in death. This motive is extensively dealt with in the book Ezekiel. In the vision of the valley with the bones, the prophet sees that Israel is dead—and it is very dead.13 But it is this Israel that is visited by the Lord when his glory returns to his temple.14 Nowhere in the Old Testament can we find the expression ‘one people’—‘am’ echad. It is self-evident that the people are one, since they are owned by the one God. There is only one exception: in Ezekiel 37: (16–)22. For a long time Israel has been split, and it has finally been scattered like bones on the soil. These bones have no future. But now the Lord will restore them, and this restoration will imply the unity of the people. They will be one nation.15 They will have one king. For they are the people of the one God who saves them from death with his coming. Restoration and unity are irresolvably connected because restoration means the coming of God to his people16 and uniting them as his own nahala. Paul and Peter draw the only possible conclusion: since there is no difference and both Jews and Gentiles are sinners, and thus not God’s people, Lo-ammi, both are saved in God’s coming to the world: “. . . all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus.” God’s people are the people of Christ—for Christ is God’s own coming. Now we turn to another group of texts about the people of God in the New Testament, in the beginning of the gospels. John the Baptist is explicitly related to the restoration of the people of God: “He will go on before the Lord . . . to make ready a people prepared for the

12 See esp. N.T. Wright, Christian Origins and the Question of God 1. The New Testament and the People of God (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1992); The Climax of the Covenant: Christ and the Law in Pauline Theology (Edinburgh: Clark; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993) and Christian Origins and the Question of God 2. Jesus and the Victory of God (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1996). 13 Ez. 37:2. 14 Ez. 43. 15 C.f. also Hosea 1:11. 16 Ez. 43.

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Lord.”17 The meaning of this text is not, in general, a preparation for God’s acting, but a specific reference to the relationship between John and Jesus. Jesus is the one who comes after him, “the thongs of whose sandals I am not worthy to untie.”18 Jesus is the one who will judge the world. He is the Lord who comes. John prepares his way. His father, Zacharias, sings in his hymn how that will happen: And you, my child, will be called a prophet of the Most High; for you will go on before the Lord to prepare the way for him, to give his people the knowledge of salvation through the forgiveness of their sins, because of the tender mercy of our God, by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven to shine on those living in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the path of peace.19

That is the way that God’s people are unified: because—in the language of John—the one shepherd gives his life on behalf of the many as the lamb that bears the sin of the world.20 Matthew says it his own way: his name is Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.21

One Savior and One Church: The One Body of Christ The church is the body of Christ. It is usual to speak about the body as a metaphor. The concept of the body evokes the idea of a unity with different parts. Just like the body is one and has many members, so the church is the one body of Christ with members who all have their own characteristics. All their differences contribute to the one body of Christ. Therefore, they should not exclude each other, but rather enjoy the plurality of the members of the church. This is the picture that is primarily evoked by the well-known sections on the body in Romans 12 and I Corinthians 12. Romans 12 is less elaborated than 1 Corinthians 14. Apart from that, it is probably written by the apostle later. Therefore, we had better turn first to Corinthians and subsequently to Romans. First of all, we must note that speaking about the church as a body is not that obvious in the New Testament as it might seem from its common use in the church today. It is limited to Pauline literature.

17 18 19 20 21

Luke 1:17. Luke 3:16. Luke 1:76–79. John 10:14; 1:29. Matt. 1:21.

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And even in the corpus Paulinum it does not occur in all the letters. It is remarkable that it is absent in the early letters such as Galatians and Thessalonians. It is not before the first letter to the Corinthians that Paul makes use of it. It is also remarkable that the word ‘body’ in this letter is used more frequently than in any other New Testament writing. Obviously, Paul was somehow triggered by this word when writing his letter and used it as a key concept in his discourse to the Corinthians. Aspects of the use in I Corinthians come back in his later letters, that taken for themselves—without the whole structure in which they function in I Corinthians—can easily be misunderstood. We begin with the well-known chapter 12 where the church is explicitly compared to a body. First of all, we must notice that the metaphor is not used in I Corinthians in order to refer to all kinds of differences that church members may have, such as culture, gender, and ethnicity. Elsewhere, the apostle even argues that differences of this kind are irrelevant.22 The differences where he speaks about the metaphor of the body are the charismata. The members have different gifts of the Spirit. And Paul’s argument is that they should not claim their own charisma to be absolute. It is just a contribution to the whole. They serve for the building up of the one body in the praise of God. It is this aspect that Paul again makes use of in Romans 12. The reference to the gifts of the Spirit indicate that it is not just an arbitrary metaphoric use of the body, as it could be used in the Hellenistic world for any corporation and especially for the gathering of the people for political decisions. It is a qualified use of the metaphor. This qualification is not limited to the spiritual gifts. The core of the qualification is that the church is the body of Christ. When Paul applies the concept ‘the body of Christ’ to the church in chapter 12, it is not the first time in the letter he makes use of it. It is introduced in chapter 10: 16, and it is from that chapter that it receives its meaning. The first time Paul writes explicitly about the body of Christ, it is in a Eucharistic discourse. The Lord’s Supper is the body of Christ. The body is first of all his own body that He gave on behalf of his people. The body of Christ has to do with the core message of Paul: “I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ and him crucified.”23 Christ has died for our sins and in his resurrection we are

22 23

See e.g. Gal. 3:28. 1 Cor. 2:2.

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justified. The Eucharistic meal is participation in Him as the One who gave his body on our behalf. By participating in the meal, we participate in his body. Just as Israelites participated in the altar by eating the sacrificial meal and thus were in communion with the Lord, the Christians are in communion with Christ by bread and wine—as the body and blood of Christ. Therefore they cannot participate in pagan rituals. The celebration of the pagans on behalf of their gods is communion with the demons. Either you belong to Christ or to the demons.24 With regard to the one body of Christ often the word koinonia is used. There should be a koinonia among the members of the church. We should have communion among ourselves as the members of a body. It is remarkable that I Corinthians does not once use the word koinonia for the community of church members among themselves, but only for the communion with Christ. The communion of the body is first of all the unity with Christ. This is the basic meaning of the concept of the body of Christ: we are members of his body, sharing his death and resurrection in the Eucharist. It is from that context that Paul introduces the concept in chapter 10. It distinguishes the church from pagan bodies that are based on rituals for their gods—which gods are nothing and precisely therefore we should not participate in them. In chapter 11, Paul focuses on the church: we all belong to this one body of Christ, again in a Eucharistic perspective. Are we really sharing his death and resurrection? If we serve ourselves and do not take care of the other one, how can we belong to the body of Christ who gave his life on behalf of the many? It must be checked: do we really have communion with Him? Chapter 12 continues the discourse by thinking about all those people who really participate in his body. How are Christians celebrating the liturgy of the Eucharist? Each of them contributes according to the gifts the Spirit gave to him or her. Jesus and his Spirit cannot be separated25 and his Spirit provides the charismata that build up church life. Thus the body of Christ is first of all the Eucharistic communion with Him. It is not so very much the bread as a substance but the celebration of the Eucharist. The formula is: ‘This is my body, which is for

24 25

1 Cor. 10:14–22. 1 Cor. 12:3.

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you; do this in remembrance of me.’26 We cannot do the bread. ‘Do’ is about acting. The breaking and sharing of the bread is the communion with the body. Thus it is in the act of consecration and participation that the body of Christ is present. Nevertheless, it cannot be separated from the very concrete bread. It is in the breaking and eating of the bread that the Eucharist is celebrated and Christians participate in the Lord. The Eucharist cannot be spiritualized just like Jesus and his death and resurrection cannot be spiritualized. Jesus arose bodily from the dead as Paul argues in chapter 15. Thus the concept of the body of Christ is related to the concrete crucifixion—Jesus Christ and Him crucified—and to his concrete bodily resurrection. It also has to do with the concrete bodily existence of the members of the church. Christian faith cannot be spiritualized either. The very first time in Corinthians that Paul writes about the body and its members has to do with the ultimate bodily reality of human beings: sexual intercourse.27 You cannot share the body of a prostitute and the body of Christ. Communion is a communion of ultimate love or of ultimate unfaithfulness. The admonition that Christians cannot have communion with the idols of the pagans28 is preceded by the warning not to share the body of a prostitute.29 On the other hand, the relation of husband and wife is bodily surrender to each other in the name of Christ,30 and a virgin can be devoted to the Lord in both body and spirit.31 Christians’ life as the body of Christ is ultimately concrete and material. It has to do with this very body. And at the same time, it is not the mere body as such; it is the body in communion. “If I . . . surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.”32 To summarize: the body of Christ is first of all the communion with Him that is celebrated in the liturgy. It is as concrete as the bread is material, and it is present in the communion as an act. It is participation in the true body of Christ who is arisen from the dead and not a mere spiritual being, although it is fully filled by the Spirit and cannot exist without the Spirit. It has to do with our concrete bodies that are, 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

1 Cor. 11:24. 1 Cor. 6:12–20. 1 Cor. 10. 1 Cor. 6. 1 Cor. 7:4. 1 Cor. 7:34. 1 Cor. 13:3.

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however, valueless without communion—positively as a communion of love, negatively as the communion of pagan magic and prostitution. Since the body is defined by the body of Christ who gave his life for his people, the body is one because Christ is one. That is the starting point from the very beginning in this letter: Is Christ divided?33 It is a rhetorical question. Christ cannot be divided. He is one person. Even more: He is the presence of the One God. He is—as Paul says—the Lord of glory crucified.34 And the Lord of glory is one. He is ’adonai kabod and in the celebration of his death we celebrate God’s own coming to his people. If the Lord can be divided, then the church can also be split. But if not—then a divided church cannot be his body. And the Lord cannot be divided. The Lord your God is One.35 Later texts of the Pauline tradition make use of this complex concept of the body. Romans 12 also focuses on the differences of the members such as I Corinthians 12 does, although here the perspective is wider after the long deliberations about Israel and God’s faithfulness. The letter to the Colossians deals with the aspect of the unity with Christ. He is the head of the church as the head of all. Here the comprehensive unity of Christ is in the center of thought. Ephesians has similar aspects, but takes other motives of the earlier Pauline letters into account as well. Just as in Romans, the unity under the one head is connected to the unity of the one people of God—Jews and Gentiles together.36 And as in Corinthians, the language of the body of Christ is related to sexuality. Similarly, according to I Corinthians 6 there cannot be communion with a prostitute and with the body of Christ at the same time, so the unity of husband and wife is the expression of the unity of Christ and his church.37 We cannot even say ‘it is symbol of.’ Words such as ‘symbol’ or ‘metaphor’ turn out to be too weak.38 It is about the very reality of Christians. They belong to Christ, and therefore they belong to each other. Body language in order to express this unity is characteristic of later Pauline literature. However, the reality to which it refers is present in other New Testament traditions as well. John 17 deals extensively with 33

1 Cor. 1:13. 1 Cor. 2:8. 35 Deut. 6:4. 36 Eph. 2. 37 Eph. 5. 38 Cf. S. Hauerwas, In Good Company: The Church as Polis (Notre Dame/London: Notre Dame Press 1995), 25f. 34

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unity. Here it is also not about the unity of the church as such. It is not even the analogy of the unity of God and the unity of the church. It is just as in the body language of Paul; it is first of all the unity with Christ that constitutes the unity of the church: “That they may be one as we are one: I in them and you in me.”39 The unity with Christ is primordial as it is rooted in the unity of the Father and the Son—that means in the very Oneness of God. The members of the church are in Christ and He in them, and therefore, they are unified in a unity that is much more basic that the unity of any human association. The unity is the ground of their very being. Denial of the unity of the church is denial of the unity with Christ, of the unity of the Father and the Son, and thus of the Oneness of God. And, as Paul argues, this is not a mere spiritual unity, but the most concrete material bodily unity.

One Church and One Spirit: The Church as the Temple of the Holy Spirit There is only one verse in the Bible where the expression ‘temple of the Holy Spirit’ occurs.40 And that is not about the church, but about the body of a single Christian. Because your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, you may not go to a prostitute. Now, we must not limit ourselves to the literal expression in order to see what a concept means. There are several places in the New Testament letters where the Holy Spirit who dwells in Christians is spoken about.41 However, all these texts deal with individual Christians and their behavior. They must practice a holy life because they are a dwelling place of the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is not conceived of as some kind of spiritual power that empowers Christians to do the right things. The Holy Spirit is God Himself. That appears from several verses where the body of a Christian is called a temple or dwelling of God.42 The indwelling of the Spirit and the indwelling of God can be used as alternatives. The indwelling of the Spirit is the indwelling of God. The presence of the

39 40 41 42

John 17:22f. I Cor. 6:19. Rom. 8:9, 11; I Cor. 3:16; II Tim. 1:14; James 4:5. I Cor. 3:16, 17; II Cor. 6:16.

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Spirit is the presence of God and thus Christians are a dwelling of God in the Spirit.43 It is really thought provoking that we personally are a house of God: that God Himself dwells in us. Do we ever consider what that implies? For now, however, we will deal with the church as a whole and its unity. We must first notice that the idea that we are a temple or a dwelling place of the Spirit in the New Testament is usually not directly related to the unity of the church. Nevertheless, this does not mean that it is not implied, but the main argumentation must be found in the Old Testament. For understanding the concept of the people of God, we must begin with the New Testament and for understanding the church as the temple of the Spirit, we must turn to the Old. The indwelling of the Spirit is the indwelling of God. Our bodies are a dwelling place of God in the Spirit. Old Testament writings often speak about God’s dwelling place on earth. The core of this language is the temple. And because the temple stays in Jerusalem, this city can also be called God’s dwelling. Even the whole of Israel can be named so. It is not restricted to Jerusalem. Silo is also a place where the house of God once existed. But nowhere in the Old Testament does it speak about the dwelling of God or of his holy name in two or more places at the same time. He did not live both in Silo and in Jerusalem—or Gibeon, Gilgal, Bethel, and other places. He stayed once in Silo and later in Jerusalem. The Lord rejected Silo and preferred Jerusalem— and according to Jeremiah that fate could also happen to Jerusalem.44 References to God’s dwelling in Israel are always directed to one single sanctuary. Deuteronomy 12 makes this explicit: it is not allowed to bring sacrifices just in any place where the Israelites live but only in the place that the Lord will choose so that his Holy Name will be there. Deuteronomy 16: 6 adds that this is also the case for the celebration of Pesach. What is the reason for this centralization of worship? The books of Kings and Chronicles inform us extensively about the reform by King Josiah. He destroys all the sanctuaries in the country because people worship other Gods in these places, and they worship the Lord in the wrong way, e.g., by sacrificing children. Even the temple of Jerusalem

43 44

Eph. 2:22. 7:14.

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must be cleansed from such practices because the other sanctuaries—the bamot—are traditionally pagan sacred places, and the worship of their gods continued to be done there—therefore they should be closed. It is easier to keep one’s eyes on a central sanctuary in the capital than on an abundance of local holy places. That is even more the case if this central sanctuary is as of old the place of the worship of the highest God—’el ’eljon—the Creator of heaven and earth, as it was in the sanctuary in Jerusalem.45 There is, however, another reason for the unity of worship. We cannot separate the commandment of the one sanctuary in Deuternomy 12 and 16 from the shema in chapter 6: “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one.” Because the Lord is one He can only be worshipped in one place. The Lord is not split up into a large number of local lords as Baal is divided in Baal-Zebub, Baal-Peor, Baal-Hermon, etc. The Lord is not divided. The Lord is one. And that is expressed in the one place where He dwells in his Holy Name. The call for one single sanctuary in Deuteronomy is not a speciality of this book. It is a thread through the book of Kings, and many Psalms refer to it just as many places in the prophets. The most remarkable is the way the book of Kings deals with the issue. After the reign of Solomon, ten tribes are split off from the house of David and given to Jeroboam. Jeroboam decides on political grounds to found his own temples in Bethel and Dan so that the people of the north do not have to travel to Jerusalem for their religious obligations. Due to political developments, a new worship is developed. This is severely criticized by the authors of the book of Kings. When Jeroboam’s successors continue the worship in the new sanctuaries, the final decision on their reign is: “He did evil in the eyes of the Lord, walking in the ways of Jeroboam and in his sin, which he had caused Israel to commit.” It will be repeated continuously. The ultimate quality of a king depends on his attitude towards the one sanctuary. Even politics that are initiated by the Lord himself do not provide a base for deviating from this rule. The people may be divided, but the Lord is one. Politics are not the same as religion, not even in old Israel. For the Lord is one, his name is one, and therefore his temple is one. Now, how does the Old Testament’s claim on the one temple relate to the individual character of each believer as a temple of the Holy

45

Gen. 14:19.

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Spirit? Does this not result in many temples—as many as there are Christians? It is hardly imaginable that Jews like Paul and other New Testament authors who knew the Old Testament by heart and lived in it like a home could think so. Therefore, we have to consider the case more precisely. First of all, we must note that nowhere the New Testament speaks about the temple or the dwelling place of the Spirit in the plural. Even if the subject of a sentence is plural, the predicate is in the singular: You are (plural: este) a temple of the Holy Spirit, not temples.46 This certainly has to do with the oneness of the Spirit. Just as Christ cannot be divided the Spirit cannot be so. By consequence, all the Christians together are one and the same dwelling place of the Spirit. Thus, we can understand that Peter speaks about the individual members as stones of the one building.47 This metaphor focuses on the unity of the temple of the Spirit and actually this can be the only conclusion from the unity of the temple: all Christians together are one dwelling place of the Spirit because the Spirit is one and cannot be split up. Nevertheless, the Spirit in each of them is fully present—for the Spirit cannot be split up into parts. The one Spirit who in his full divinity lives in each of them and unites them all in the unity of his divine being. In this perspective, the concept of the temple of the Holy Spirit displays even more the unity of the church than its naming as the body of Christ. The body easily evokes the difference of the members—and that is useful. But the temple of the Spirit characterizes the individual members as full dwelling places of one and the same Spirit who is one and the same God, the God of Israel as confessed in the shema. Thus, the concept of the temple of the Spirit is more related to the Eucharistic basis of the idea of the body than to the diversity of its members. Actually, the temple of the Spirit and the Eucharistic body of Christ are very closely related and they often occur in one and the same text. Ephesians 2:19–22 brings all aspects together in a sentence that can only be understood in the sacramental unity of Christ and his people: “You are no longer foreigners and aliens, but fellow citizens with God’s people and members of God’s household, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone. In him the whole building is joined together

46 47

I Cor. 6:19. 1 Cor. 2:5.

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and rises to become a holy temple in the Lord. And in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit.” Therefore, we have to consider another aspect in the New Testament of the temple as God’s dwelling place. John remarks after Jesus saying about breaking down the temple and rebuilding it in three days: “. . . the temple he had spoken of was his body.”48 Jesus’ body is the temple. He himself is God’s dwelling on earth. In the visionary language of the book of Revelation: “I did not see a temple in the city, because the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are its temple.”49 With the coming of God in Christ, the temple made by hands of men has become superfluous. The climax of God’s coming among us is his surrender at the cross. When Christ dies, the curtain that enclosed the most holy was torn.50 There is no longer a barrier between God and human beings. The death of Jesus is the apocalyptic event of God’s full dwelling in the world. That not one stone will be left on another51 of the temple of stone is just a matter of time and the consequence of Jesus’ presence as the Lord who Himself is the temple. We must notice that there is a difference of God’s dwelling in the old temple and his personal dwelling in Christ. In the Old Testament, it is told that he dwells amidst his people. In the New Testament, he dwells in themselves. You are the temple of the Spirit. It is the one Spirit who is the personal presence of God who is no other God than Christ. Christ as the temple and the Christians as God’s temple are one and the same temple. By consequence, it does not matter where you worship him: if it is just in unity with him. The woman in Samaria asks where we should worship God: Mount Gerizim or Jerusalem?52 The torah leaves it open. The book of Deuteronomy even seems to prefer the Gerizim.53 As a Jew, Jesus should answer: Jerusalem. But He answers: in Spirit and truth.54 That does not mean that it is a mere spiritual prayer. This kind of spiritualization is foreign to the New Testament. It means that worship can only be in the Spirit of Christ who is the Truth himself. Thus, it is not 48 49 50 51 52 53 54

John 2:21. Rev. 21:22. Matt. 27:51. Luke 21:5. 4:20. Deut. 11:29; 27:12; cf. Jos. 8:33. John 4:23.

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a relativization of the role of the temple, but an intensivization: only in Christ can you worship the Lord. True worship is only possible in the one temple which is his body and thus, in the Eucharistic participation in the one body of Christ which cannot be divided, as it is the presence of the one God. Therefore, it can even be reversed: not only God as the Spirit dwells in us, but the people of God dwell in him as well. In Pauline language, this is expressed in the frequent use of ‘in Christ,’ en christooi. Paul is a Jew, and he will not say anything that does not fit with the Old Testament. For the Lord is One—also in his revelation. The climax of temple language as referring to the full unity of God and his people is not found in the New Testament, but in the Old Testament. It is not Paul, but Moses who bestows us with the most amazing text about this mutual indwelling: “The eternal God is your refuge.”55 God’s people live in him. They live in Christ. He is our home. And he is so because we share his Spirit—that is his very being. Nowhere can the unity of the church be expressed more intensively than in this word of Moses: the Lord your God will be a safe home for you. And the Lord your God is One.

Conclusion We can conceive of the church in different ways: as God’s people, as the body of Christ, or as the temple of the Holy Spirit. Any of these concepts turns out to refer to the unity of the church because they are related to the one God. God cannot be divided and thus his people, his body, and his dwelling place cannot be divided. This cannot be stressed enough, and the church should not only confess her unity, but also live it. The core of this unity is the Eucharistic celebration of the one body of Christ where the Spirit is present in the communion with Christ to the glory of the Father. The Creed of Nicaea-Constantinople expresses the unity of the church as an expression of the unity of God in a conspicuous way. The Creed thrice uses the word “one” after “we believe in.”56 “We believe 55

Deut. 33:27. See for the original Greek version, H. Denziger, Enchiridion Symbolorum Definitionum et Declarationum de rebus fidei et morum, ed. 24 (Barcinone etc: Herder, 1967), 150. 56

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in one God, the Father . . .,” “and in one Lord. . . .” We would expect: “. . . and in one Holy Spirit. . . .” The Creed, however, has simply “and in the Holy Spirit. . . .” The ‘one’ of God’s present dwelling in the world is saved for the church: “and in one holy catholic and apostolic church.” The church is the expression of the unity of God under the aspect of his present dwelling in the world: the unity of God as confessed in the unity of the Spirit is the unity of the church. The church is the expression of God as the one God. Therefore, the Creed goes so far as to say that we believe in one church, as we believe in one God. The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit are not three Gods. They are the one and only God, and the unity of this one God is visible in the world in the unity of the one church.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

ONE SAVIOR, ONE CHURCH RECONCILIATION AS JUSTIFICATION AND “NEW CREATION” Philippe Theron

Introduction: Alienation and Reconciliation The immense amount of attention that South Africa has attracted since the 1960s presumably indicates that the world realizes that the South African situation is symptomatic of a universal predicament. Living in a falling (not merely fallen) world means living in a creation that is alienated from the Creator. Falling from the Father, his creation is falling apart. Reconciliation requires much more than reparation, be it renovation (restoration) or compensation (satisfaction). It involves a re-creation in which the Potter reshapes the clay1 of the shattered pottery,2 which he pronounces unacceptable, into something fundamentally new. This new creation comes about through God’s judgment that brings about vindication of the Creator and justification of creation. It entails the completion of God’s eschatological purpose, “to put into effect when the times will have reached their fulfillment—to bring all things in heaven and on earth together under one head, even Christ.”3 He has accomplished this unification of creation on the cross. “Through the Son, then, God decided to bring the whole universe back to himself. God made peace through his Son’s sacrificial death on the cross and so brought back to himself all things, both on earth and in heaven.”4 Following the meeting of the WCC in New Delhi during the 1960s, the ‘cosmic Christ’ became a favorite theme in ecumenical circles. Unfortunately, there was a tendency to emphasize the incarnation at

1 2 3 4

Jer. 18:4. Isa. 30:14. Eph. 1:10. Col. 1:20, Good News.

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the expense of the crucifixion. It resulted in an optimism alien to the critical character of a theologia crucis. This paper argues that as fruit of the cosmic reconciliation through Christ crucified, the unity of the church is a promise of the eschatological peace, i.e., the union of the disintegrating creation in the death of the Son, to the Father, through the Spirit, so that God will be all in all.5

Reconciliation in the South African Debate Under the caption, First Reconciliation, Then Reunification, a recent issue of Kerkbode,6 the official magazine of the Dutch Reformed Church, carries a report of a meeting by leaders of the indigenous Dutch Reformed Family of Churches, which are predominantly constituted along racial lines.7 According to Kerkbode’s account, at times the tension ran high, especially between the Uniting Reformed Church and the remaining black Reformed Church in Africa that did not take part in merging with the previously brown Dutch Reformed Mission Church to form the Uniting Reformed Church. In some places, these two churches are embroiled in bitter court cases relating to church property. Nevertheless, the article mentions that hopes are high that the process of reconciliation is still on course. Consequently, they decided that in the immediate future reconciliation should be given priority. In post-apartheid South Africa, reconciliation, which is a core concept in the church’s vocabulary, tends to become a buzzword in sociopolitical discourse. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission has captured worldwide attention. On the question whether it has fostered or frustrated unity, opinions are divided. Nevertheless, it remains irrefutable that any form of reconciliation that ignores the truth is false. This holds true for society in general, and the church in particular.

5

1 Cor. 15:28. “Eers versoening, dan kerkhereniging” (“First reconciliation, then church reunion”), Kerkbode (Church Herald), 178/7 (11 May 2007), 1. 7 Dutch Reformed Church (predominantly white), the Uniting Reformed Church (predominantly brown, but also black), the Dutch Reformed Church in Africa (predominantly black), and the Reformed Church in Africa (predominantly Indian). 6

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In the period prior to the political disbanding of apartheid, reconciliation was a crucial theme in theological debate. Already during June 1968, the South African Council of Churches declared in A Message to the People of South Africa, that “a policy of separate development . . . rejects as undesirable the good reconciliation and fellowship which God is giving to us by his Son.”8 Jaap Durand9 recalls discussions in 1978, held with theological students studying for the ministry in the Dutch Reformed Mission Church10 in which it became clear that reconciliation was the central issue in South Africa. It gradually dawned on them that all talk of reconciliation was meaningless within the social context of apartheid, since the latter’s ideological point of departure was the conviction that people were in principle irreconcilable. Russel Botman, a member of the class of 1978, remembers how they “had spent many hours . . . debating the ethical injustices of apartheid and now wanted to trace all that knowledge to its theological center.”11 Since apartheid departs “from the irreconcilability of people,” it became manifestly clear “that apartheid was inherently against the gospel.”12 The same sentiment was sounded in the Open Letter (1982) that was signed by 123 signatories and caused quite a stir in South Africa and abroad.13 It maintained that the church should proclaim that no structuring of society should take as a starting point the “fundamental irreconcilability of people or groups of people.”14 Following Hendrikus Berkhof and echoing Barth’s principle of analogy between Christengemeinde and Bürgergemeinde, the church is called to be the “experimental garden” (proeftuin) of God to demonstrate the unity, mutual love, peace, justice, etc. that he intends for the whole of society.15 Defending the Open Letter, Durand claims that society, comprising believers and 8

See Jaap Durand, “How I changed my mindset from eternal truths to contextualized metaphors,” Ned. Geref. Teologiese Tydskrif (Dutch Reformed Theological Journal) 43 (2002), 64–70, 67. 9 Jaap Durand, “How I changed my mindset,” 67f. 10 Currently part of the Uniting Reformed Church. 11 H. Russel Botman, “Narrative Challenges in a Situation of Transition,” H. Russel Botman & Robin M. Petersen (eds), To Remember and to Heal. Theological and Psychological Reflections on Truth and Reconciliation (Cape Town, Pretoria, Johannesburg: Human & Rousseau, 1996), 40. 12 Botman, “Narrative Challenges,” 40. 13 See D.J. Bosch, A. König, W. Nicol, Perspektief op die Ope Brief (Perspective on the Open Letter) (Kaapstad, Pretoria, Johannesburg: Human & Rousseau, 1982), 13–17. 14 J.J.F. Durand, “The prophetic calling of the church,” Perspektief op die Ope Brief (Perspective on the Open Letter), 2.1.2, italics mine. 15 Durand, “The prophetic calling of the church,” 2.1.3.

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non-believers, should be structured on the model of reconciliation.16 Being God’s “demonstration model,” his “example” for the world, the church should declare that, per analogiam, the basic structure of society should reflect God’s reconciliation of people. At the General Synod of 1978, the Dutch Reformed Mission Church rejected apartheid as conflicting with the gospel since it subscribed to the belief of the fundamental irreconcilability of people.17 That decision was decisive at the meeting of the World Alliance of Reformed Churches (WARC) in Ottawa, 1982. Allan Boesak, the best known exponent of liberation theology (respectively: black theology)18 in South Africa, played a major part at this meeting where he was elected president. Botman remarks that Boesak confronted the World Alliance “with the logical conclusion to be drawn from the decision of the synod of his church.”19 Consequently, the theological defense of apartheid was declared a heresy, and the membership of the Dutch Reformed Church was suspended.20 According to Durand, the acceptance of the Confession of Belhar (the General Synod of 1986) formed the climax of this process.21 Although the term ‘apartheid’ is not mentioned in this confession, Durand maintains that the authors “wanted it in this way to underline the fact that it concerns itself in the first place with the heretical church doctrine (his italics) that underlies the entire apartheid system.”22

16

Durand, “The prophetic calling of the church,” 74f. Cf. Handelinge van Sinode van die NG-Sendingkerk (Acts of the Synod of the Dutch Reformed Mission Church), 1978, 399f. 18 See W.D. Jonker, “The Gospel and Political Freedom. Aspects of a South African Debate,” A. van Egmond & D. van Keulen (eds), Freedom. Studies in Reformed Theology I (Baarn: Callenbach, 1996), 243–262. 19 Botman, “Narrative Challenges,” 40. 20 Called to Witness to the Gospel Today (World Alliance of Reformed Churches, Geneva), 1983, 29: “We declare with Black Reformed Christians of South Africa that apartheid (‘separate development’) is a sin, and that the moral and theological justification of it is a travesty of the Gospel, and in its persistent disobedience to the Word of God, a theological heresy,” italics mine. 21 Durand, “How I changed my mindset,” 68. In point 3 of the Accompanying Letter to the Confession is stated: “This confession is not aimed at specific people or groups of people or a church or churches. We proclaim it against a false doctrine, against an ideological distortion which threatens the gospel itself in our church and country,” italics mine. 22 J.J.F. Durand, “A Confession—Was it really necessary?” in G.D. Cloete & D.J. Smit, A Moment of Truth (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1984), 33–41, 36. 17

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Continuity between Creation and Re-creation It should be noted that the theological defense of the irreconcilability of people was not proclaimed a heresy, but the theological defense of apartheid as such. The latter was apparently so patently identical with the former that it could be taken for granted. Nevertheless, for the sake of ‘truth and reconciliation,’ it must be pointed out that, as theologically precarious, flawed, unimpressive, and even spurious the theological defense of apartheid might have been, the Dutch Reformed Church never defended a view claiming the irreconcilability of people. As a matter of fact, the anthropology behind the theological defense of apartheid was not an extremely pessimistic view of humanity,23 but tended precisely in the opposite direction. A neo-Calvinistic interpretation of the old adage, gratia non tollit sed perficit naturam, was essential.24 In an article, “Continuity between Creation and Re-creation,”25 one of the stalwarts of the theological defense of apartheid puts it in a nutshell: “Recreation does not mean the annihilation of creation and providence (read: history PFT) because these works of God, too, are only good.”26 After all, should the splendid pluriformity of creation not be reflected in, for instance, a pluriformity of churches in which the precious variety of languages, customs, and cultures should be accommodated? Did the abundant fruit of the family of Reformed churches in South Africa and abroad, not provide proof of the value of this policy? Was church polity in this regard not the precursor—if you like, the ‘experimental garden’ preceding political policy? Far from being pessimistic, apartheid, or separate development as the proponents of this policy preferred to call it, was an impossible political pipedream built on unfounded optimism that it would safeguard racial and cultural identities in an equitable way, establish economic stability, and secure neighborly peace. It was the panacea that

23 Cf. Durand’s interpretation of apartheid. He refers to the “negative approach to humanity and society” reflected in the concepts “apartheid” and “separate development.” “The prophetic calling of the church,” 69. 24 Grace does not destroy but perfects nature. 25 F.J.M. Potgieter, “Kontinuïteit tussen skepping en herskepping. ‘n Reaksie op die Ope Brief ” (“Continuity between Creation and Recreation. A Reaction to the Open Letter”), D.J. Bosch, A. König, W. Nicol, Perspektief of die Ope Brief (Perspective on the Open Letter) (Kaapstad etc.: Human & Rousseau, 1982), 106–13. 26 Potgieter, “Kontinuïteit tussen skepping en herskepping,” 108.

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served as a social solution for church and society. The alien (paroikia) character of the church as a divine institute, signaling the coming of God’s eschatological kingdom, was not acknowledged. The fundamental difference between reconciliation as a theological concept, on the one hand, and reconciliation as a social and political settlement, on the other, was not conceded. Clearly, there is a deep seated difference between reconciliation, say, between Muslims and Christians within the same society, and ‘Jews and Gentiles’ within the one body of Christ. The indiscriminate way in which the word ‘reconciliation’ (respectively: ‘irreconcilable’) was used in the period preceding the dismantling of apartheid, suggests that the theological proponents and opponents of apartheid were not worlds apart—theologically speaking. Whoever dared to draw attention to the difference between church and state, concurring with Calvin that one should distinguish between Christian freedom and civil freedom,27 was liable to be labeled an adherent of a modern two kingdom doctrine, denying the universal kingship of Christ, but tending towards docetism and gnosticism. In post-apartheid South Africa, with its religiously ‘neutral’ state, a clear distinction between reconciliation in the church and the state has regained respectability. While describing apartheid as “a crime against humanity,” in 1995, Dirkie Smit, one of the signatories of the Open Letter, argues that the religious and theological truth-guilt-confessionreconciliation complex does not have a great deal to say for the South African society. He continues: In the first place, society is not the church. Its citizens are not identical with the Christian believers. South Africa is not the kingdom of God. We do not have a theocratic form of government. The logic of Christian confession of guilt and forgiveness is not the logic of the public, political and economic world. The grammar of Christian contrition, confession and absolution is not the grammar of public jurisprudence. In the public

27

J. Calvin, Institutes 4, 20. There is a close material relationship between Institutes 3, chapter 19 that deals with “Christian Freedom” and Institutes 4, chapter 20 that treats “civil government.” In the 1536 edition, the part dealing with Christian freedom (in substance the same as 3, 19) “was followed in the same long chapter by a section on ecclesiastical power and one bearing the title of the present chapter (4, 20, PFT) and essentially of the same content. Subsequent revisions widely separated these parts of the original ch. vi, but IV.xx is in a real sense a continuation of III.xix”, John T. McNeill (ed.), translated by Ford Lewis Battles, Calvin: Institutes of the Christian Religion, Volume 1 (Philadelphia etc.: SCM, MCMLX), 1485.

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sphere, Smedes’s logic28 probably makes more sense than that of Matthew 18 does. Religious forgiveness is not amnesty.29

Today one even gets the impression that certain theologians are bent on separating church and state. Advocating the abolishment of all public religious holidays (Easter weekend, Christmas, even Sundays) in a country where 80% claim to be Christians is a case in point. In such situations, the danger of uncritical negative collusion with the religiously ‘neutral’ state, looms large.30 Freedom of religion should not be confused with freedom from religion. At a time when talk of theocracy in whatever form is tantamount to political heresy, it might be worthwhile to recall the famous hymn of Venantius Fortunatus (535–609), Regnavit a ligno Deus, God reigns from the cross.31 Denying the fundamental meaning of the cross is the very essence of docetism and spiritualism, for nothing is as painfully concrete as the cross on Calvary. It is hard to suppress the suspicion that the accusation of heresy was little more than a strong arm ploy on a par with the theological support for apartheid. Botman maintains that the Kairos Document took the issue of ‘irreconcilability’ further.32 It served the political strategy to demonize the opponent: “The God of the enemy is not only an idol, it is Satan, the anti-Christ.” It corresponds with the political pressure to persuade the “world community” to declare apartheid a “crime against

28 Namely, that one must forgive for the sake of one’s own spiritual health and future. Smit refers to Lewis Smedes, Forgive and Forget (San Francisco: Harper Collins, 1984). 29 Dirkie Smit, “The Truth and Reconciliation Commission—Tentative Religious and Theological Perspectives,” Journal of Theology for Southern Afica 90 (1995, 3–15), quotation on 12. 30 “The peril of the Christendom idea—precisely the same peril that attends upon the post-Christendom idea of the religiously neutral state—was that of negative collusion: the pretence that there was now no further challenge to be issued to the rulers in the name of the ruling Christ.” O. O’Donovan, The Desire of the Nations. Rediscovering the Roots of Political Theology (Cambridge: University Press, 1996), 213. 31 That is an allusion to Ps. 96: 10. See A. Noordegraaf, “ ‘ ’t Is van het hout, dat God regeert . . .’. Enkele overwegingen over de prediking van het koninkrijk Gods en de verzoening” (“‘It is from the wood that God reigns . . .’. A few Reflections on the Preaching of God’s Kingdom and Reconciliation”), K.A. Deurloo e.a. Verzoening of Koninkrijk. Over de prioriteit in de verkondiging (Reconciliation or Kingdom. About the Priority in the Preaching) (Baarn: Callenbach, 1998), 32–47. 32 Botman, “Narrative Challenges,” 40–42.

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humanity,”33 the very opposite of the “silent (read: soft) diplomacy” employed by the South African government against Zimbabwe. With regard to the accusation of heresy, a statement by Russel Botman34 is rather revealing: “Although the heresy theme captured most of the attention within the debate among Dutch Reformed Churches, reconciliation became a flagship, a ‘liberating metaphoric device.’ ”35 He adds that the pregnant meaning of the word itself (without its theological-soteriological content) aroused hope. It would seem that, as the heart of the gospel, it was not the atonement that was crucial, but socio-political motives. Clearly, the accusation of heresy should not be taken too seriously.

Two Soteriologies In his study The Kingdom of God—The Destiny of Jesus, Heinz Schürmann rejects what has become customary in certain theological circles, i.e. to drive a wedge between the post-Easter staurological soteriology of the apostle Paul in which the cross is at the core of the proclamation, and the eschatological soteriology of Jesus in which everything centers on the coming of God’s kingdom. According to the latter, Jesus proclaimed the liberating kingdom, but, following Paul, the confession of the church deformed it into the vicarious suffering of the Savior. That reminds Schürmann of Alfred Loisy’s modernist one liner that Jesus proclaimed the coming of God’s kingdom and what actually came was the church.36

33 In 1973, 20 dictatorships in East Europe led by the Soviet Union, signed the International Convention on the Suppression of the Crime of Apartheid. Cf. Hermann Giliomee, “Nazi-argument dryf rede by die agterdeur uit,” Die Burger (“Nazi Argument Drives Out the Reason from the Back Door,” The Citizen (31 Mei 2007), 22. For an excellent rebuttal of the accusation of a “crime against humanity,” see Herman Giliomee’s presidential address at the meeting of the South African Institute of Race Relations on 15 February 1996. Hermann Giliomee, Liberal and Populist Democracy in South Africa: Challenges, New Threats to Liberalism (Johannesburg, 1996), 8–11. Of great importance, too, is his article, “Rediscovering and Re-imaging the Afrikaners in a New South Africa: Autobiographical Notes on Writing an Uncommon Biography,” Interario XXVII (2003) 3/4, 9–47. 34 Russel Botman became a leading figure in the SACC and at present is the rector of the University of Stellenbosch. 35 Botman, “Narrative Challenges,” 40. 36 Heinz Schürmann, Gottes Reich—Jesu Geschick. Jesu ureigener Tod im Licht seiner Basileia-Verkündigung (The Kingdom of God—The Destiny of Jesus. Jesus’ Very

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The paradigm switch from cross to kingdom favors a reshuffle of priorities. Christ’s vicarious suffering should be substituted at the center by the resurrection. The latter is not the revelation of Christ’s cross as the justification of sinners,37 but should be seen as the vindication of Christ’s pre-Easter message of the imminent kingdom. The preaching of Jesus (subjective genitive) replaces the preaching about Jesus (objective genitive).38 Dogmatics rather than ethics has the priority. Reconciliation is no longer linked to expiation. God’s mercy is taken for granted. ‘God Himself’ should substitute his crucified Son as the pivotal point of the gospel. Obviously, this has profound implications for ‘God Himself’ as expressed in the Trinitarian confession of the church.

The Crucified Christ as Foundation and Consummation The doctrine of the Trinity is historically and systematically mainly a matter of soteriology. Due to the focus on the immanent Trinity, this fact has often been obscured. In a lecture as early as 1909 (published in 1910), long before the ‘Rahner rule,’39 Noordmans warns against a fatal duplication40 in which we try to find the immanent Trinity behind, instead of within the economic Trinity.41 For sure, scripture Symptomatic Death in the Light of His Sermon in the Basileia (Freiburg etc.: Herder, 1983), 11–13. 37 Rom. 4:25. The translation: “He was delivered over to death for (dia) our sins and was raised to life for (dia) our justification” suggests that his death and resurrection have different meanings. According to this interpretation, the first dia has a causal and the second a final connotation. Budiman prefers to give the second dia a causal meaning, too: Because of our justification on the cross, Christ was raised to life. This interpreation is supported by 1 Cor. 15:17: “If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins.” Rudy Budiman, De Realisering der Verzoening in het Menselijk Bestaan. Een onderzoek naar Paulus’ opvatting van de gemeenschap aan Christus’ lijden als een integrerend deel der verzoening (The Realization of Reconciliation in Human Existence. An Investigation into Pauls’ Opinion of the Community of Christ’s Suffering as an Integrating Part of Reconciliation) (Delft: Meinema, 1971), 112f. 38 H.J. de Jonge, “Eerherstel voor het koninkrijk” (“Rehabilitation for the Kingdom,”) K.A. Deurloo e.a. Verzoening of Koninkrijk (Reconciliation or Kingdom), 9–17. 39 “The economic Trinity is the immanent Trinity and vice versa,” in K. Rahner, Theological Investigations 1V, 79, Kuschel, 416. 40 O. Noordmans, “Het getuigenis van Dr. de Hartog,” Verzamelde Werken (“Dr. de Hartog’s Testimony,” Collected Works) 1 (Kampen: Kok, 1978), 139. 41 “Het getuigenis van Dr. de Hartog” (“Dr. de Hartog’s Testimony”), 149. Also “Het getuigenis van Dr. de Hartog. Waardering en kritiek” (“Dr. de Hartog’s Testimony.

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is not shallow. Behind the Lamb slaughtered on Calvary, is the Lamb slaughtered from the beginning of creation.42 The way in which he is slaughtered from eternity is, however, inconceivable to us in this dispensation.43 Depicting the economic Trinity as the shortest summary of God’s historical revelation, Noordmans uses the striking image of a swooping eagle with outstretched wings following his plummeting creation down into the deep.44 Right at the center, between the wings, we observe the downward thrust of the body 45 in the form of the suffering Servant as the concrete “body (or form)46 of God” (Gods gestalte).47 As God’s “expressed image,”48 Christ the Savior forms the proper substance (body) of the confession, while Father and Spirit are like wings extending from creation to consummation. Noordmans also finds this figure in the Apostolic Confession, and hears its swooping sound in the hymns of Luther and the preludes of Bach: Vom Himmel hoch da komm Ich her, in between Gott Vater in Ewigkeit, and Komm, SchöpferGeist. On Calvary, God caught up with his falling creation. Christ’s cry of God forsakenness testifies to the fact that, in his Son, God has completely identified himself with his alienated creation in accordance with his eternal counsel. Thus, we can say that creation itself is a prefiguration of its consummation in the suffering Servant. As the omega, Christ is also the alpha. As the climax of God’s covenant,49 the Crucified is also the foundation of creation. He is the firstborn (πρωτοτόκος) of creation in whom all things were created and in whom all things hold together (συνέστηκεν).50 “The Lamb that was slain from the creation of the world”51 holds the key to the mystery of history.52

Appreciation and Criticism,”) in: Noordmans, Verzamelde Werken (Collected Works) 1, 161f. 42 Rev. 13:8. 43 “Het getuigenis van Dr. de Hartog” (“Dr. de Hartog’s Testimony”), 162. 44 Noordmans, Verzamelde Werken (Collected Works) 2, 224. 45 Cf. Phil. 2:6–8. 46 μορφῇ Θεοῦ, Phil. 2:6. 47 See Verzamelde Werken (Collected Works) 8, part II, 1: “Gods gestalte” (“The Body of God”). 48 “Het getuigenis van Dr. de Hartog” (“Dr. de Hartog’s Testimony”), 162. 49 N.T. Wright, The Climax of the Covenant (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993). 50 Col. 1:15–17. 51 Rev. 13:8. 52 Rev. 5.

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To quote Noordmans: Every unbroken form of creation that we leave behind overtakes us and defiles the Gospel. The creation accompanies us until we come to Calvary and what remains there of its appearance and glory we may pronounce—no sooner. Paradise is close-by the cross. And the Adam and Eve we see going in and out, are the murderer and Mary Magdalene. Whatever does not take part in the procession to the cross . . . is not creation, but paganism.53

The Unity of the Corpus Mysticum in the Corpus Crucifixum Of the many metaphors the New Testament uses for the church, the “body of Christ” has attracted the most attention. No other image expresses the unity of Christ with the believers in a comparable way. It is closely connected with the expression “in Christ,” which has a corporal-local connotation, and is a favorite and fundamental formula of the apostle Paul.54 Rom. 12:5: “In Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others.” Incorporated in Christ, the church is included in the history of Christ55 in whom an “inclusive place-taking”56 transpired. 2 Cor. 5:14: Because “one died for all . . . therefore all died.” That could only occur because of the Creator’s incarnation in creation, uniting and incorporating it in himself.57 In Paul’s presentation, participatory and juristic conceptions coincide.58 Christ’s death for all implies the death of all. Following Dorothy Sölle, it has become customary to distinguish terminologically between a ‘representative’ (Stellvertreter) and a ‘substitute’ (Ersatzmann).59 Neither of these concepts describes the mystery

53 54 55

“Herschepping,” Verzamelde Werken (“Recreation,” Collected Works) 2, 257. H. Ridderbos, Paulus (Paul) (Kampen: Kok, 1966), 441. F. Neugebauer, “Das Paulinische ‘in Christo,’ ” New Testament Studies, 1958,

132. 56 O. Hofius, “The Fourth Servant Song in the New Testament Letters,” Bernd Janowski & Peter Stuhlmacher (eds.), The Suffering Servant. Isaiah 53 in Jewish and Christian Sources (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004), 163–188. 57 E. Jüngel, Das Evangelium von der Rechtfertigung, 137: “Dazu bedarf es . . . einer Gegenwart, in der die ganze Schöpfung present ist. Und das kann nur heiszen: dazu bedarf es der Gegenwart des göttlichen Schöpfers in der Gestalt des Geschöpfes.” 58 E.P. Sanders, Paul and Palestinian Judaism. A Comparison of Patterns of Religion (London: SCM, 1977), 472. 59 Cf. the discussion by Budiman, De Realisering der Verzoening in het Menselijk Bestaan (The Realization of Reconciliation in Human Existence), 20f. of the pastoral

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of Christ adequately. Christ as a ‘mediator’ may also be misunderstood since it suggests a third independent party between God and humanity. Although, in a sense, every representative includes those he/she represents by excluding them, it is true of Christ in a fundamentally realistic and inimitable way. In the human Son of God as a representative, the Creator and his creation are, so to speak, presented. In-corporated in the corpus crucifixum, the church is the corpus Christi who is the corpus Dei. Reconciled by “Christ’s physical body through death”60 the church participates in the Trinitarian unity of Father and Son through the Holy Spirit. The connection between the church as the body of Christ and Christ’s own crucified body is so close that it is sometimes difficult to distinguish them. In a context that refers to Christ himself as our peace,61 it is hard to decide whether,62 this one body in which the reconciliation to God took place, refers to Christ or the church.63 In 1 Cor. 11:27, sinning against the body and blood of the Lord obviously means sinning against the corpus crucifixum, but in vs. 29, not recognizing (διακρίνειν) the body seems to refer to the church, especially in light of vs. 31: “But if we recognized (διακρίνειν) ourselves, we would not come under judgment”?64 The unity of the church is grounded in the justification wrought in Christ’s death that the Spirit imparts (imputes) to us in baptism. When there is disunity because some claim to be of Paul, others of Apollos, others of Cephas, and still others of Christ,65 Paul exclaims in exasperation: “Is Christ divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Were you baptized into the name of Paul?”66 Being baptized into (εἰς) Christ means being baptized into his death.67 Similarly, Paul opposes Peter when the latter separates himself from the Gentiles to please those belonging to the circumcision group because it amounts to a denial of

letter, De Tussenmuur weggebroken (The Dividing Wall Broken Down), ’s-Gravenhage 1967, of the General Synod of the previous Nederlandse Hervormde Kerk (Dutch Reformed Church). 60 Col. 1:22. 61 Eph. 2:14. 62 Eph. 2:16. 63 Cf. Ridderbos, Paulus (Paul), 421. 64 See also Budiman, De Realisering der Verzoening (The Realization of Reconciliation), 137f. 65 1 Cor. 1:12. 66 1 Cor. 1:13. 67 Rom. 6:3.

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dying with Christ in baptism.68 “For all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is neither Jew nor Gentile, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”69 Therefore Paul could exclaim: “May I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the (old, falling) world has been crucified to me, and I to the world.”70 After all, “neither circumcision nor uncircumcision means anything; what counts is a new creation.”71 This the Creator has accomplished in Christ the eschatological Adam. “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!”72

Reconciliation as a New Creation Although the author of the letter to the Ephesians does not use the concept of the church as καινὴ κτίσις (new creation), the idea is prevalent. “For we are God’s workmanship, (ποίημα) created in Christ Jesus . . .”;73 “His purpose was to create in himself one new man out of the two, thus making peace, and in this one body to reconcile both of them to God through the cross . . .”;74 “. . . and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.”75 According to Eph. 3:4,6 the “mystery of Christ” is the mystery that the Gentiles are σύσσωμα (joint-body) and συμμέτοχα (joint-shares) of the promises in Christ. The unity of the church is a sign of God’s eschatological purpose “to bring all things in heaven and on earth together under one head, even Christ.”76 God has already “placed all things under his feet and appointed him to be head over everything for the church, which is his body, the fullness of him who fills everything in every way.”77

68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77

Gal. 2:12. Gal. 3:27f. Gal. 6:14. Gal. 6:15. 2 Cor. 5:17. Eph. 2:10. Eph. 2:15f. Eph. 4:24. Eph. 1:10. Eph. 1:22.

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In Christ, both church and creation have their foundation and destination, but only the church is called his body. As such, the church is a sign of the eschatological destiny of the entire creation. The cross signifies the breach between the church and the world, and is at the same time the bridge between them. It is sometimes intimated that uniting the Dutch Reformed family of churches means returning to the one church that existed before the policy of different churches for different races started in the 19th century. However, that is not only impossible but also undesirable. It is impossible to restore a broken marriage, or a broken friendship, to the situation that obtained before the break occurred. That might be possible in merely impersonal, legal relationships by merely compensating for losses sustained, but in personal relationships that possibility is precluded, as Vernon White has conclusively demonstrated.78 Dealing with the painful past is indispensable for a promising future. To start anew something new must be created out of the past with its pain. The pain must be transformed into something positive; the bad must be transmuted into something good; the old must be recreated into something new. That is precisely what the justification of the wicked involves. God’s judgment re-creates good out of evil, life out of death, unity out of separation, and reconciliation out of alienation. When God’s Trinitarian history crosses our sinful history, he crosses the minus into a plus. In the final analysis, Christ’s cross is a positive sign (+) planted in the midst of creation proclaiming the Creator’s “Yes” to his promises.79 It signifies God’s self-sacrificing, unifying love in Christ, his Son and our Savior. And the unity of the church, grounded in the crucified Christ, is, albeit unimposing and still soiled with sin, already a sign of what God has in store for the whole of creation in his eschatological new creation.

78 Vernon White, Atonement and Incarnation. An Essay in Universalism and Particularity (Cambridge etc.: Cambridge University Press, 1991), chapter 7: “A moral demand: conditions for real reconciliation.” 79 2 Cor. 1:20.

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Concluding Propositions 1. In a falling world that is falling apart, ‘apartheid’ is the inevitable result. That is also apparent in the fragmentation of the church as a reflection of society. 2. If proponents and opponents of the theological defense of apartheid had taken human greed, fear, pride, appetite for self-aggrandizement, passion for power, etc. more seriously, they would have heeded the Heidelberg Catechism’s warning that we are prone by nature—that means, rather fundamentally!—to hate God and our neighbor. In short, the critical character of the doctrine of justification of the godless would have played a more prominent part in their theology. 3. Neither the distinction between church as an institute and an organism (Kuyper), nor the Barthian distinction between Christengemeinde and Bürgergemeinde takes the theological distinction between church and society seriously enough. 4. Only when the eschatological character of the church is reflected in the church’s striving towards truth, reconciliation, and (institutional) unity can the church be called the salt of the earth and the light of the world.

CHAPTER TWENTY

THE REALITY OF THE UNIFIED CHURCH Annette Mosher

Introduction In America there is a saying, ‘the squeaky wheel gets the grease.’ In other words, only when something becomes problematic does one pay attention to it. There is something problematic in church unity; so much so, that we are paying attention to it during this conference. This paper does not assume that the problem is that the church is not unified. Rather, the argument of this paper is that the church is, in reality, unified. The further argument is that the problem lies not in unity, but in the perception and behavior of the members of the body. If we are to enact the reality of the unity of the church, then the church body must align itself with that reality. The arguments to support these claims will reflect on the work by Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s, Sanctorum Communio. Sanctorum Communio was Bonhoeffer’s doctoral dissertation published in 1930. In it Bonhoeffer tackles the problem of the church existing visibly in the world.

The Collective Person Before we can approach the reality of the unity of the church, we must first understand Bonhoeffer’s formulation of the “collective person.”1 Bonhoeffer says that it is individuals that make up the human race. However, people do not act without affecting one another. Interactions between people begin to take shape based on the character and behavior of each of these people. In coming together, these individuals form a community through their interactions that reflects the individuals 1 Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio. Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, vol. 1. ed. Clifford J. Green, trans. Reinhard Krauss and Nancy Lukens (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1998), 121.

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involved. Bonhoeffer says this “community can be interpreted as a collective person with the same structure as the individual person.”2 Once the community is formed, it is no longer a mass of individuals functioning independently, but the “center of activity lies . . . in all of them together.”3 The community is given personhood through the individuals. Although the center lies in all of them, because the actions of the individuals still affect the collective person, once one sins, sin infects the collective person. This is not a strange thought in streams of Christianity that accept the doctrine of original sin. We understand that “sin came into the world through one man . . . and so death spread to all because all have sinned . . .”4 Bonhoeffer agrees with this and says, “The world of sin is the world of Adam, the old humanity.”5 Therefore, the collective person is “humanity-in-Adam.”6 Within this collective person there is no unity except the bond of sin. Because of the fall, there was a “break in immediate community with God, and likewise in human community.”7 Now the humanity-in-Adam has become “composed of many isolated individuals and yet is one, as the humanity that has sinned as a whole.”8 This formulation of the collective person by Bonhoeffer compares similarly to the apparent reality of much of the current Protestant church. Bound together as members of the one church, still many branches of Protestantism operate in isolation from one another. Distinctions are made in relation to doctrines, confessions, and traditions—and even nationalism. If Roman Catholicism and Orthodox branches are added in, the divisions appear even deeper. It would appear that the collective person known as the church is as hopelessly divided as humanity-in-Adam. However, this is not reality.

2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 77. Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 78. Romans 5:12, NRSV. Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 107. Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 121. Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 107. Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 121.

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Christ existing as Church-Community If that were the end of the story then the church would have an excuse. As a social entity composed of selfish sinners, one would expect nothing less than division and in-fighting. However, with the work of redemption, Christ redeemed the collective person to God and formed a new collective person—“Christ existing as church-community.”9 Bonhoeffer says, “In Christ humanity really is drawn into community with God, just as in Adam humanity fell,”10 and “But the world of Adam is the world Christ reconciled and made into a new humanity, Christ’s church.”11 In scripture we see support for Bonhoeffer’s argument. Romans 5:18 says, “Therefore just as one man’s trespass led to condemnation for all, so one man’s act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all. For just as by the one man’s disobedience the many were made sinners, so by the one man’s obedience the many will be made righteous.”12 This new humanity is God’s revelation based on the “fact of Christ.”13 We know that we cannot empirically prove that Christ’s death was our redemption, and, similarly, we cannot empirically prove the purpose of the church. We must except by faith that Christ is the physical presence within the church as a revelation of God.14 Bonhoeffer also realized this, and it is a pivotal point for Bonhoeffer. For Bonhoeffer the church is nothing more or less than “a reality of revelation, a reality that essentially must be either believed or denied.”15 The “humanity-ofAdam has become the church of Christ.”16 Bonhoeffer says that understanding the church as revelation is where evaluation of the church breaks down. He gives two examples of approaches to the church: values and the church as a social community. The first fails because it begins with a character value (he emphasizes holiness) and ends with an ideal that is humanly inaccessible. The

9

Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 121. Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 146. 11 Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 107. 12 Romans 5:18–19, NRSV. 13 Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 126. 14 Ephesians 1:22–23, NRSV, “And he has put all things under his feet and has made him the head over all things for the church, which is his body, the fullness of him who fills all in all.” 15 Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 127, italics Bonhoeffer. 16 Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 152. 10

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second fails because the community “preserves the tradition”17 rather than the source being the primary influence. Instead of these two models, Christ existing as church-community places the reality of the church in the revelation of redemption, and therefore “only the concept of revelation can lead to the Christian concept of the church.”18 This concept is the church that Paul defines in 1 Corinthians: “For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ,” “Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ? Should I therefore take the members of Christ and make them members of a prostitute? Never!” and “Has Christ been divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Or were you baptized in the name of Paul?”19 Bonhoeffer says, “The church is the presence of Christ in the same way that Christ is the presence of God.”20 Bonhoeffer also says that this church is visible. It is visible as “a corporate social body in worship and working-for-each-other.”21 It is at the same time invisible in an eschatological sense. Bonhoeffer says something at this point that affects our topic of unity. He says, “Even the church-community of the New Testament was never actually ‘pure’ (Luke 17:21)—it was so only eschatologically, that is, as God’s church-community, as the body of Christ. A misunderstanding on this point necessarily leads to perfectionist sectarianism.”22 Bonhoeffer does exactly the opposite of the norm. He claims unity as the norm of the visible church and purity as the norm of the invisible church. One asks what the state of the church would be if this argument would have been the historically prevailing argument rather than value-laden objectives such as purity, holiness, or even dogma.23

17 18 19

Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 130. Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 134, italics Bonhoeffer. 1 Cor. 12:12, 6:15, and 1:13, and referred to by Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio,

140. 20

Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 140–141. Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 141. 22 Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 141. 23 The author does not wish to indicate that values are not important; rather, that unity is also an important goal to strive for. 21

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Vicarious Representation The idea of a pure church is one area where Bonhoeffer would have differed from the Reformers. Bonhoeffer made a distinction between the church and the “Realm of God” saying, The church is not the Realm of God any more than the Christian, who is iustus-peccator [justified-sinner], is actually already completed, even though in reality the Christian is just that. The Realm of God is a strictly eschatological concept, which from God’s point of view is present in the church at every moment, but which for us remains an object of hope, while the church is an actually present object of faith. The church is identical with the realm of Christ, but the realm of Christ is the Realm of God that has been realized in history since the coming of Christ.24

Here the view of the church is a problem of which view. Humanity sees the sinfulness and feels the need to purge it from the church. God does not see the sinfulness and therefore the church is already pure in his view. Christ has truly redeemed the collective person, and it is only his redeeming work that makes the church pure. The ethical person has difficulty with this concept. Bonhoeffer points out, “As ethical persons we clearly wish, after all, to accept responsibility ourselves before God for our good and evil deeds.”25 Can we even go one step further than Bonhoeffer and say that ‘as ethical persons we clearly wish, after all, to demand responsibility from others before God for their good and evil deeds?’ Bonhoeffer refuses both. He says, “It is not an ethical possibility or standard, but solely the reality of the divine love for the church-community; it is not an ethical, but a theological concept.”26 Christ’s action was a gift to us that was made possible through God’s love. Our sin was already removed by him on the cross, and Bonhoeffer says rather than fighting his gift “we ought to let our sin be taken from us, for we are not able to carry it by ourselves; we ought not reject this gift of God.”27 But what to do about the sin we find in the church? We must accept that historically Christ paid the price even for that sin. With that

24 25 26 27

Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 154. Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 156. Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 156, italics Bonhoeffer’s. Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 156.

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payment he restored the communion between God and the collective person, and “the community of human beings with each other has also become a reality in love once again.”28 The purity of the church has nothing to do with the actions of the people within that church. The purity of the church rests solely with the purity of Christ.

Reality Now for Bonhoeffer “the church is established in reality,”29 and it is the actual presence of Christ in the world. The church is also now “realized . . . for eternity.”30 This is the important point that must be grasped. The church is not a religious community that has been established by the will of the people to follow God. The church is the physical presence of Jesus Christ, which has been formed through “God’s new will and purpose for humanity.”31 Therefore, “its existence is sustained by the Spirit who is a reality within the church-community.”32 If Bonhoeffer is correct, we must ask then why the church does not appear unified. It is the distinction between God’s will and individual will and the ability to perceive reality. If the church is perceived as a religious community, the will of the spirit of the people determines unity. But if it is seen as a revelation of Christ existing as church-community, then the will of the divine Spirit determines unity. In relation to this problem, Bonhoeffer says, “The unity of the church as a structure is established ‘before’ any knowing and willing of the members; it is not ideal, but real.”33 If we accept Bonhoeffer’s logic and if we consider scripture as revelation, then it follows that the members of the church do not have the option of determining if or how the church will be unified. Just as Christ cannot be divided, the presence of Christ can also not be divided.34 Instead, the task of the church body is to align itself to the already realized unity of the church given from God. Bonhoeffer has the solution for this—corporate prayer. He says, “We must make every 28 29 30 31 32 33 34

Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 156, italics Bonhoeffer’s. Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 157. Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 157. Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 141. Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 160. Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 199. 1 Corinthians 1:13.

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effort to have our congregations learn again how to pray; it is precisely corporate congregational prayer, as Luther never wearies of saying, that is one of the major sources for strengthening, gathering, and unifying congregations.”35 The other method to unity Bonhoeffer named as the “will to unify.”36 If the congregation recognizes that unity is reality, then there should be striving to find that true reality. It is not a reality based on education, experience, or knowledge of the congregants, but is “unity given from above.”37 This recognition of the unity already present in the real presence of Christ existing as church-community requires humility though. Bonhoeffer warns, “the stronger the will, the more partisan individuals behave.”38

One Remedy Bonhoeffer would not be the person who would claim that unity must remain at all cost. His own historical participation in the Confessing Church during the Third Reich is proof of this. However, his struggle with his own church is also historical proof of his will to unify. Additionally he says, “. . . turning against the church’s authority can at any rate only be an act of supreme obedience that is most deeply committed to the church and the word within it, but never a merely capricious act.”39 These were prophetic words for Bonhoeffer. However, they also point to what he believed was the job of the church and the only reason for disunity. Bonhoeffer said that the church had one task: to proclaim. Proclamation came through two actions: “worship that consists of preaching and celebrating the sacraments.”40 The church is the place that witness is given to the work of Jesus Christ and his presence in the world. This is done both by proclaiming his work, but also through remembrance of his death. With this Bonhoeffer says, “The utter

35 36 37 38 39 40

Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 201–202. Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 203. Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 203. Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 203. Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 252. Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 226, italics Bonhoeffer.

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dissimilarity of the individuals pales into insignificance before the sovereign unity of the divine word.”41 Preserving the proclamation was exactly the core of Bonhoeffer’s resistance that began six years after writing Sanctorum Communio. We find in his article, “The Confessing Church and the Ecumenical Movement,” that Bonhoeffer writes that the “struggle of the Confessing Church is bound up with the whole preaching of the gospel, and second, that the struggle has been brought to a head and undergone by the Confessing Church vicariously for all Christianity, and particularly for Western Christianity.”42 It was this concern that began when he partnered with Martin Niemöller on September 7, 1933 to write a declaration decrying the possible prohibition of proclamation and sacrament by some ordained ministers. They wrote, According to the confession of our church, the teaching office of the church is bound up with a call in accordance with the order of the church and with that call alone. The “Aryan Clause” of the new enactment concerning offices in the church put forward a principle which contradicts this basic clause of the confession. As a result, a position which must be regarded as unjust is proclaimed as church law, and the confession is violated. There can be no doubt that as long as the ordained ministers affected by the enactment are not dispossessed of the rights which belong to their status as ministers by formal proceedings they have under all circumstances the right to preach the Word and administer the sacraments freely in the Evangelical Church of the Old Prussian Union which rests on the confessions of the Reformation.43

The effect of prohibiting the ordained ministers from doing what was exactly the job of the church had a result. Anyone who gives his assent to a breach of the confession thereby excludes himself from the community of the church. We therefore demand that this law, which separates the Evangelical Church of the Old Prussian Union from the Christian church, be repealed forthwith.44

Bonhoeffer was making a claim that is different from how the Confessing Church is often viewed. Often the Confessing Church is seen as those 41

Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 229. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, “The Confessing Church and the Ecumenical Movement,” in A Testament to Freedom, Geffrey B. Kelly and F. Burton Nelson, eds. (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1995), 141. 43 Bonhoeffer, “Declaration,” in Testament to Freedom, 138. 44 Bonhoeffer, “Declaration,” in Testament to Freedom, 138. 42

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who split from the established church to purify the church. Actually, the purpose for Bonhoeffer was different. The Confessing Church was created in order to bring the Evangelical Church of the Old Prussian Union back into unity with the true Christian church. Rather than splitting from the union, the Confessing Church remained within the union rebuking and calling it back to unity. Bonhoeffer would not accept an entity that was a false representation of the true Christ existing as church-community. All of humanity was redeemed and belonged in the new humanity—even if they were Jewish by birth—and he would allow no deviation. So we see that even though Sanctorum Communio was not written to stimulate unity, its basic arguments were maintained by Bonhoeffer when he fought for the unity of his church. Scripture also confirmed Bonhoeffer in his will to unity and his call to proclamation. Paul “begs” for this as well, I therefore, the prisoner in the Lord, beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope of your calling, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all.45

Dietrich Bonhoeffer fought not for the purity of the church as a divisive exclusivity that included only true believers; he fought for the purity of the church as the visible representation of Christ that proclaimed to the world their redemption. Perhaps it is time for us to also consider the purpose of the church in proclamation in order to recognize the reality of true unity.

45

Ephesians 4:1–6, NRSV.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

THE CHURCH AS AN ECHO OF THE TRIUNE GOD1 Christiaan Mostert

There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope of your calling, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all. (Eph. 4: 4–6) “As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us. . . .” (Jn. 17:21)

I The churches which have their particular identity from the 16th century Reformation confess themselves, in the words of the ecumenical creed of Nicaea and Constantinople, to believe “in one holy catholic and apostolic Church.” The unity of the church certainly mattered greatly to Calvin, perhaps more so than to some of the other Reformers. In reply to a proposal from the Archbishop of Canterbury that the main Protestant leaders of Europe might meet together, Calvin was enthusiastic. He wrote: “It must be counted among the worst evils of our epoch that the Churches are thus separated one from another, so much so that hardly any human society exists among us, still less that holy communion between the members of Christ which all profess but very few sincerely cultivate in reality.”2 Commenting on Ephesians 4:4, Calvin writes: “For if [the Ephesians] are truly persuaded that God is the common Father of them all, and Christ their common head, they cannot but be united together in brotherly love, and mutually impart their blessings to each other.”3

1

As will be seen below, this title is borrowed from a phrase of Colin Gunton. Letter to Cranmer, April 1552. Cited in François Wendel, Calvin: The Origins and Development of his Religious Thought, trans. Philip Mairet (London: William Collins, 1963), 310f. 3 John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, ed. John T. McNeill, trans. F.L. Battles, vol. 21, The Library of Christian Classics (London: SCM Press Ltd, 1961), IV, 1, 3. 2

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The Reformed churches accepted that there was one church. In its chapter on the church, the Scots Confession of Faith expresses it this way: As we believe in one God, Father, Son and Holy Ghost, so we most constantly believe that from the beginning there has been, now is, and to the end of the world shall be a Kirk, that is to say, one company and multitude of men chosen by God, who rightly worship and embrace him by true faith in Christ Jesus, who is the only Head of the same Kirk, which also is the body and spouse of Christ Jesus.4

These lines, with which the chapter begins, are of particular interest because they connect the unity of the church with the unity of the one God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, the triune God. The chapter goes on to make the qualification, typical of such confessional statements, that this “one” church is the church “invisible.”5 It has always been a temptation of the churches, not only in the Reformed tradition, to content themselves with believing that the unity of the church is an attribute of the invisible church, with the implicit corollary that the unity of the visible church is an entirely secondary matter. With the development of the modern ecumenical movement in the 20th century, beginning with the celebrated World Missionary Conference at Edinburgh in 1910, the unity of the church visible—thus the visible unity of the church—came to matter a great deal more, for the sake of the church’s mission to the world. By the time the World Council of Churches was formed in Amsterdam in 1948, the concern was specifically with the unity of the visible church. Willem Visser ‘t Hooft, the first General Secretary of the Council, described the WCC as “an emergency solution, a stage on the road . . . a fellowship which seeks to express that unity in Christ already given to us and to prepare the way for a much fuller and much deeper expression of that unity.”6 A later Assembly (Nairobi, 1975) stated: The primary purpose of the fellowship of churches in the World Council of Churches is to call one another to visible unity in one faith and in one eucharistic fellowship, expressed in worship and common life in Christ,

4

The Scots Confession, Chapter 16, “Of the Kirk” (1560). The Westminster Confession (1647) begins its statement on the “catholic or universal Church” (Ch. 25) with an emphasis on its invisibility, meaning by this “the whole number of the elect.” In the second paragraph, it goes on to speak of “the visible Church.” 6 WCC website: http://wcc-coe.org/wcc/who/histor-e.html, accessed 1.6.2007. 5

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through witness and service to the world, and to advance towards that unity in order that the world may believe.7

This is a classic statement! The assumption is that the unity of the church is already given in and with Jesus Christ, with one Lord, one Spirit, and one baptism, but remains as something to be expressed more visibly and concretely in the actual life and mission of the churches. The Princeton Proposal for Christian Unity speaks of “two poles” of Christian unity: the “bond of faith and communion in Christ, established by the saving action of God,” which already exists among all Christians, and the “structures, institutions and regular practices by which [Christians’] communion in faith is expressed and formed.”8 Without such structures and practices, there would be no visible expression of Christian unity and there would be no actualization of the unity of the church. A fuller statement of what such visible unity might look like was made at the Canberra Assembly (1991): The unity of the church to which we are called is a koinonia given and expressed in the common confession of the apostolic faith; a common sacramental life entered by the one baptism and celebrated together in one eucharistic fellowship; a common life in which members and ministries are mutually recognized and reconciled; and a common mission witnessing to the Gospel of God’s grace to all people and serving the whole creation. The goal of the search for full communion is realized when all the churches are able to recognize in one another the one, holy, catholic and apostolic church in its fullness.9

It has to be acknowledged that the full expression of the church’s unity is an eschatological gift, but the anticipation of that gift in the church’s pilgrimage through history, already real to a significant extent, could be made more visible. The visibility of the church’s unity is very limited and, despite the rhetoric in support of Christian unity, the churches do not seem to be inclined to increase it. The unity which the Canberra statement has in view is a koinonia, a communion (communio). The church has long understood itself as

7 WCC website: http://wcc-coe.org/wcc/who/histor-e.html, accessed 1.6.2007. (Italics added.) 8 Carl E. Braaten and Robert W. Jenson, eds, In One Body through the Cross: The Princeton Proposal for Christian Unity (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2003), 16f. 9 Michael Kinnamon, ed, “The Unity of the Church as Koinonia: Gift and Calling,” Signs of the Spirit: Official Report of the Seventh Assembly (Geneva: WCC Publications, 1991), 172–174, §2.1.

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a communion, the communio sanctorum. However, the concept of communio (koinonia) has played a significant part in recent ecclesiological studies, not least in connection with a more fully articulated trinitarian grounding of the church. Is there, indeed, some kind of correspondence between the one church and the one God, between the differentiated unity of the church and the triune being of the one God? This paper seeks to argue that, with some important qualifications, some such correspondence does exist; furthermore, that it has implications for seeking a greater visible expression of the unity of the churches. The 9th Assembly of the World Council of Churches (Porto Allegre, 2006) describes the “oneness” of the church as “an image of the unity of the Triune God in the communion of the divine Persons.”10 But in what sense might the church be said to be an “image” of the triune God? What is the connection between them? In particular, what theological force does the correspondence have, such that the goal of visible unity becomes an imperative?

II What is required is a discussion of the church: its nature and being. Colin Gunton complains that ecclesiology too often ‘degenerates’ into a discussion about ministry; these days one could add missiology or church structures. In the early church, there was not much discussion of the nature and being of the church, and there is not an abundance of it now. Gunton argues that “the manifest inadequacy of the theology of the church derives from the fact that it has never seriously and consistently been rooted in a conception of the being of God as triune.”11 Gunton means this in the strongest possible sense: the immanent Trinity, not the economic Trinity, which has heavily accentuated the christological determinant of ecclesiology. He wants a move from the economic to the immanent Trinity,12 paying particular attention to the concept of koinonia, the threefold community of the trinitarian 10

WCC, “Called to be the One Church: An Invitation to the Churches to Renew their Commitment to the Search for Unity and to Deepen their Dialogue,” document PRC 01.1, §3. 11 Colin Gunton, “The Church on Earth: The Roots of Community,” Colin E. Gunton and Daniel W. Hardy, On Being the Church: Essays on the Christian Community (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1989), 48. 12 Gunton and Hardy, On Being the Church, 65.

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Persons. It is easy to misappropriate the doctrine of the Trinity for ecclesiological purposes, as—for example—when using the subordination of the Son to the Father to justify the subordination of the laity to the clergy or women to men.13 More obliquely, Gunton argues for a view of the church as a “finite echo or bodying forth of the divine personal dynamics.”14 The threefold being of God is “a community of energies, of perichoretic interaction,”15 which is the antithesis of hierarchy. This is ontologically decisive, and represents a philosophical breakthrough on the part of the Cappadocian Fathers of the fourth century. There is no underlying divine ‘substance’ or ‘essence.’ In God the persons of the Trinity are not preceded by a logically prior divine nature; they coincide with it. The following quotation from John Zizioulas describes the nature of the trinitarian koinonia and shows its implications for human community. . . . it is impossible to say that in God any of the three persons exist or can exist in separation from the other persons. The three constitute such an unbreakable unity that individualism is absolutely inconceivable in their case. The three persons of the Trinity are thus one God, because they are so united in an unbreakable communion (koinonia) that none of them can be conceived apart from the rest. The mystery of the one God in three persons points to a way of being which precludes individualism and separation (or self-sufficiency and self-existence) as a criterion of multiplicity. The “one” not only does not precede—logically or otherwise—the “many,” but, on the contrary, requires the “many” from the very start in order to exist.16

Elsewhere, Zizioulas makes clear that the church is called to be “an image of the way in which God exists,” “ecclesial being is bound to the very being of God.”17 But it is not immediately clear in what way the two are “bound” together. On what basis can legitimate connections 13 The latter misuse of the doctrine of the Trinity is not hypothetical. Cf. Kevin Giles, The Trinity & Subordinationism: The Doctrine of God & the Contemporary Gender Debate (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2002) and Kevin Giles, Jesus and the Father: Modern Evangelicals Reinvent the Doctrine of the Trinity (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2006). 14 Gunton and Hardy, On Being the Church, 69. Later he emphasizes that the church is “a temporal echo of the eternal community that God is,” 75. (Italics added.) 15 Gunton and Hardy, On Being the Church, 70. 16 John D. Zizioulas, “The Doctrine of the Holy Trinity: The Significance of the Cappadocian Contribution,” Christoph Schwöbel, ed, Trinitarian Theology Today (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1995), 48f. 17 John D. Zizioulas, Being as Communion: Studies in Personhood and the Church (New York: St Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1993), 15.

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be differentiated from improper connections? The difference between the eternal God and temporal, fallible human communities can never be set aside. However, the point is to think more adequately, more theologically, about the nature of the church, and certain elements in the doctrine of the Trinity throw an important light on this. On the other hand, can the church be as God is? Can its life take on the character of the divine perichoretic life? In considering this, as Gunton suggests, the ontological difference between the temporal and the eternal can never be ignored and must condition every correspondence suggested. At best, therefore, the church would be only the softest echo or the palest reflection of the triune being of God. But this is not the only consideration: the other is the divine movement toward the creation. Speaking of God’s perfection, John Webster makes the important point that this is not self-contained; rather, it includes what God gives and shares with the world in the divine movement ad extra. “God’s excellence is complete in itself; but even as such, it is luminous, self-communicating, and self-distributing.”18 Webster emphasizes the operationes trinitatis externae; God’s being is “not mutely objective, a mere state of affairs to be observed; it is summons, word, love that brings into being creaturely knowledge that corresponds to God’s reality and is itself active as faith, hope and love.”19 It is, then, not a matter of a creaturely effort to imitate a divine reality, but of a divine selfcommunication and reshaping of a human reality, the church. Such a view of the Trinity, in which there is an integration of God a se and God ad extra, the immanent Trinity and the economic Trinity, presupposes that the doctrine of the Trinity may be the basis of inferences in the realm of creaturely existence. Almost 200 years ago, Schleiermacher, describing the doctrine of the Trinity as “the coping stone of Christian doctrine,” said that “a halt” should be called and no “further elaboration of the dogma” could usefully be undertaken.20 Dietrich Ritschl, much more positive about the importance of the doctrine of the Trinity, sees it as essentially doxological in character; one must therefore be cautious about making strict deductions or inferences from the doctrine of the Trinity, not least in the area of eccle-

18 John Webster, “God’s Perfect Life,” Miroslav Volf and Michael Welker, eds, God’s Life in Trinity (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2006), ch. 12, 145. 19 John Webster, “God’s Perfect Life,” 145. 20 Friedrich Schleiermacher, The Christian Faith, trans. H.R. Mackintosh and J.S. Stewart (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1928), 739.

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siology.21 As already suggested above, there is more than one way in which inferences can be drawn, with quite opposite results. There is always the possibility that we will read into the doctrine of the Trinity things which have their ground elsewhere, rather than really reading things out of the doctrine of the Trinity. However, Ritschl’s main criticism is the failure to distinguish adequately between descriptive and ascriptive (notably doxological) language. The step from statements about the economic Trinity, based on the experience of God’s activity in human life, to statements about the immanent Trinity is already risky, in Ritschl’s view. But it is a further, very large step, when we venture to draw conclusions from the intra-trinitarian relations for our social reality, whether church or wider society.22 This criticism is sharpened the more it is realized that the language used of God is unavoidably metaphorical. Ritschl’s criticism should not be ignored but it invites its own questions in response. First, it might be asked whether theology is permitted only to speak about language about God or whether, difficulties notwithstanding, it may (or must) speak about God: God’s being and God’s action. At some point, and with an appropriate form of justification, it has a responsibility to speak about God if it is to be considered theology. Second, can we really distinguish so neatly between descriptive and ascriptive language? The relationship between language and the world which it purportedly describes (including, for this purpose, God) cannot be so simply stated, certainly not from “an Archimedian point outside of language.”23 Trinitarian language functions in more than one way, and it cannot be determined in advance whether a particular use is legitimate or not. Third, on the same point, is ascriptive (especially doxological) language not capable of a ‘thicker’ account than Ritschl appears to assume? It need not be seen simply as the ascription of glory to God in response to God’s gracious turning to humankind; that would make it a one-sidedly human matter. A richer alternative is to see it as a participation in the triune life of God, thus above all an event of grace. Alan Torrance understands worship as “an event 21

Dietrich Ritschl, Theorie und Konkretion in der Ökumenischen Theologie, ed. E. Lessing, P. Neuner and D. Ritschl, Studien zur systematischen Theologie und Ethik (Münster: LIT Verlag, 2005), 62. 22 Dietrich Ritschl and Martin Hailer, Diesseits und jenseits der Worte: Grundkurs Christliche Theologie (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2006), 107f. 23 Alan J. Torrance, Persons in Communion: Trinitarian Description and Human Participation (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1996), 340f.

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of ‘theopoietic’ koinonia, which is both ‘in Christ’ and ‘through the Spirit’, and one, therefore, in which the Kingdom of God is . . . actually and freely present. . . .”24 Doxology, then, is as much a mode of being as a particular doing. If this is correct, then a communion between the triune God and the community of the church is actually effected, not by us, but by God. We shall return to this point.

III What we may say about the triune life of God (including the intratrinitarian relations) and its bearing on ecclesial relations will depend greatly on the framework within which we engage in such thinking and speaking. If Ritschl is concerned with the constraints of general epistemological considerations, others are concerned with the possibilities generated by our ontological determination. As noted above, being taken up into a “theopoietic koinonia” in Christ and through the Holy Spirit provides a very different framework within which to speak of connections between the Holy Trinity and the church. One theologian who has explored this framework in considerable detail is Miroslav Volf, in part through a discussion with two other major writers on the subject, Josef Ratzinger (now known as Pope Benedict XVI) and John Zizioulas. A key point in Volf ’s thought on the subject is the insistence that the Trinity does not merely provide the church with a model to emulate but is also “a source of that very emulation.”25 The nature of God’s being is “integral” to the character of Christian existence, including its beginning and end. The decisive factor is the reality of the communion which God has established with humankind. As baptism into the triune name attests, beginning the Christian pilgrimage does not mean simply to respond to God’s summons but to enter into communion with the triune God; to end the Christian pilgrimage does not mean simply to have accomplished an earthly task but to enter perfect communion with the triune God.26

24

Torrance, Persons in Communion, 313. Miroslav Volf, “Being as God Is,” Volf and Welker, eds, God’s Life in Trinity, (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2006), 12. 26 Volf and Welker, eds, God’s Life in Trinity, 3. 25

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Something similar must be said of the Christian community, on its way from Pentecost to Parousia. The Holy Trinity is not simply its “social exemplar,”27 but grants to the church a communion with itself inasmuch as it is a community of the baptized. The term ‘communion,’ central in the discussion, has three aspects: the perichoretic communion between the persons of the Trinity; the communion which the triune God grants to the church already in proleptic (and broken) form on its journey through history, a communion which will be perfected in the eschaton; and the communion in which the churches live and work together here and now, both within their distinctive (and divided) traditions and across their ecclesial boundaries. The latter of these aspects is central in the discussion of the visible unity of the one church but, as has been shown already, it has its ontological ground in the first and its epistemological possibility in the second. It has already been emphasized that the fragmentary ecclesial communion that exists empirically among the churches is at best analogous to that perfect communion that characterizes the trinitarian persons. The divine persons are persons-in-relation, a point more prominent in Eastern trinitarian theology than in its Western counterpart. Volf is critical of the Western view of the Trinity, as articulated by Ratzinger, for accentuating the common divine ‘substance’ at the expense of the trinitarian persons. Trinitarian unity is then not a differentiated unity of persons-in-relation but “a unity in which the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit ‘coincide.’ ”28 He sees this as leading to a “monistic” ecclesial structure: “[T]he relations between the trinitarian persons have no structural consequences.”29 He is equally critical of the Eastern view of the Trinity, as articulated by Zizioulas, because it sees the reciprocal relations between the trinitarian persons as asymmetrical: the monarchy of the Father is a central element in the East’s trinitarian theology. Only the Son and the Spirit are constituted relationally—the Father is their personal aitia (cause)—whereas the Father is only conditioned by the Son and the Spirit. The ecclesiological implications will be readily seen: at the trinitarian level the one Person (the Father)

27 Alan Torrance uses this term in his critique of Catherine LaCugna, Persons in Communion, 318. 28 Miroslav Volf, After Our Likeness: The Church as the Image of the Trinity (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1998), 70. 29 Volf, After Our Likeness, 71.

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constitutes the communion (of the three Persons). This is reflected ecclesially inasmuch as the many (the laity) are constituted as an ecclesial communion—and also as persons—by the one (the bishop).30 There is reciprocity of a kind, but no symmetry, which goes against the grain of Volf’s own ecclesiology.31 The only point at which there is near-symmetry is in the relationships between local churches, ‘local’ being understood as the ecclesial unit presided over by a bishop. Volf’s view of the unity of the churches—congregations within one ecclesial tradition as well as denominational traditions—is eschatological: “[T]he future of the church in God’s new creation is the mutual personal indwelling of the triune God and of his glorified people. . . .”32 This is how the Apocalypse of John describes the new Jerusalem (Rev. 21:1–22:5). This is the fulfillment of the Johannine Christ’s prayer for the unity of his followers and those who would come after them. This mutual indwelling of the Father and the Son and the indwelling of the ‘followers’ in the communion of the Father and the Son is indeed what the church hopes for. But the church also experiences it in the present, as 1 John 1:3 already declares and the church of every time and place confirms. It is an anticipation—in the ontological, not the noetic, sense—of the eschatological communion of the church with the triune God.33 Already, then, the koinonia of the church, expressed in its life and its worship, notably in the sacraments of baptism and the Holy Supper (the Eucharist), is a sharing in, and thus an image of, the perichoretic communion of the persons of the Trinity, however much the conflict and brokenness that mark the concrete life of the churches suggests the opposite. It is the Spirit who incorporates the church into the communion of the divine persons, already now bringing that future reality into the present. The church already lives from that future and toward that future. On the other hand, it must be careful, as it were, not to get too far ‘ahead of itself.’ Its eschatology must not become too ‘realized’; the eschatological tension must be preserved.

30 Volf, After Our Likeness, 106. Actually, Volf’s discussion is somewhat more differentiated. 31 The ecclesiology he nominates as his own is what he calls a ‘free church’ one, probably better described as congregational or independent. (In certain parts of the world ‘free church’ means something quite different.) It would be interesting to see how he has modified this view since he became an Episcopalian. 32 Volf, After Our Likeness, 128. 33 Volf, After Our Likeness, 129.

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Through this present anticipation of the eschatological communion between the triune God and the church, the churches are related to each other horizontally or synchronically. The earliest Christian congregations, addressed as the ekklesia tou Theou, understood themselves as “the eschatological people of God assembling themselves from all the nations at particular places.”34 This is a single people, though it might assemble in countless different places, adopting many local patterns and living doxologically and diaconically in ways that are shaped contextually. However, whether they are part of great ecclesial ‘families’ (patriarchates, communions, confessional traditions, denominations) or live their faith in relative isolation or independence, they all find their identity as Christian churches in their relation to the one eschatological people of God (the church). Such unity as they presently make visible is a proleptic, anticipatory experience of the eschatological communion of the whole people of God, which is a sharing in the communion of the Holy Trinity. Their relation to their future in the one people of God and their consequential relation to each other in the present belong to their ecclesiality, their identity as the church of God.

IV In the final section, some implications of what has been said so far for the life and the mutual relations of the churches in their concrete existence must be drawn. If the churches’ self-understanding as part of the one eschatological people of God—living in one faith, worshipping one (triune) God, celebrating one baptism, and having one hope—is a constitutive element in their ecclesiality, then their sense of, and relations with other churches should matter a great deal more to them than appears to be the case. Reformed churches do not think very much of the church as our ‘mother,’ forgetting that Calvin himself was not disinclined to so. As mother, the church conceives us in the womb, gives us birth, nourishes us at her breasts, and keeps us under her charge.35 He is speaking of the relation of every Christian to the church. Its consequence is that every other member of the church is

34 35

Volf, After Our Likeness, 139. Calvin, Institutes, IV,1,4.

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our brother or sister.36 As is the case with the Pauline metaphor of the body and its parts (1 Cor. 12:12–27), this cannot be restricted to the life of a single congregation; we are not baptized only into the congregation but into the body of Christ. We cannot be satisfied to regard other assemblies of Christian believers as strangers to us, even if we should find some characteristics of their worship or life ‘strange’; they are related to us as siblings. Neither can we be satisfied to pretend that they do not really exist. In other words, the churches cannot be content to be isolated from each other. Communion between churches, expressed in varying degrees of visible unity, cannot correspond to the mutual love of the persons of the Trinity except in partial and broken ways. We are always caught, as Volf suggests, in the tension between: the historical minimum and the eschatological maximum of the correspondence to the love in which the trinitarian persons live. The minimum consists in “being from others” and “being together with others,” for only a communion of persons can correspond to the Trinity. The maximum consists in perfect “being toward others,” in the love in which they give of themselves to one another and thereby affirm one another and themselves.37

The question arises whether the churches forfeit their ecclesiality if they only minimally correspond to the trinitarian communion which any church should reflect. Must the churches be with each other, in the sense of full organic unity, or is it sufficient for ecclesiality for them to be together with each other, in the sense of shared fellowship, cooperation in mission and the like? Being open to other churches is essential; an unwillingness to seek communion in any way or at any point would arguably constitute a refusal to seek any degree of correspondence to the koinonia of the Trinity. But what does openness to one another as churches mean? It can be indicated formally by participation in ecumenical bodies and associations, by entering into covenants with other churches for certain agreed purposes, as minimally as an occasional joint service of worship or as maximally as full inter-communion or indeed full organic union. Openness to one another across ecclesial barriers is not reducible to 36 Volf argues for the two complementary metaphors of siblings and friends. “The church is the fellowship of siblings who are friends, and the fellowship of friends who are siblings.” Volf, After Our Likeness, 181. 37 Volf, After Our Likeness, 207.

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any one thing but operates at many levels and is expressed in many forms, both formal and informal. The World Council of Churches has provided many instruments by which churches can test and increase their openness to each other. The most recent Assembly of the WCC invited the churches “into a renewed conversation—mutually supportive, yet open and sharing—about the quality and degree of their fellowship and communion, and about the issues which still divide them.”38 Such conversation is indispensable, whether at a bilateral or multilateral level, whether of scholars looking at subtle points of doctrinal difference or of more broadly based representatives of the churches, whether about missiology or liturgy or faith-formation. But none of it takes us even one step forward if there is lacking in the consciousness of the churches a deep desire to be with others. Of the difficulty of this we all know enough, even within the one ecclesial body. Of the importance of this, as an element in the churches’ ecclesiality, and as an anticipation of the eschatological communion of an undivided church, we appear to be in need of further persuasion. There is one God and there is one church, which experiences its life and worship in brokenness and division. To say that the churches that comprise the one church echo sufficiently the three trinitarian persons who are the one God would be an inexcusable rationalization, allowing the divisions to remain unchanged. The one God draws us into the intra-trinitarian communion of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, an immeasurable gift. This same God also calls us to recognize a corresponding communion across all the barriers our history and politics have created and to make it visible as the communion of the one church. This too is a great gift, and a pressing task.

38

WCC, “Called to be the One Church,” introductory paragraph.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

IS THE TRIUNE GOD A MODEL FOR THE ONE CHURCH? REPLY TO CHRISTIAAN MOSTERT Paul Wells

The aim proposed by Christiaan Mostert in his paper “One God: One Church” is to explore the extent to which a correspondence might exist between the unity of the triune God and its ‘image’ in the unity of the church. The practical correlate is important too: what theological impulse does such a correspondence give to the imperative of visible unity? This reply will develop along three lines, reflecting on: 1. The nature of theological models, and this one in particular; 2. Problems that arise from a perichoretic model for unity; and 3. The priority of the mediatorial model for church unity, visible and invisible.

Theological Models What is to be made of the claim that the model for church communion is Trinitarian pericherosis? Colin Gunton argues that some inadequacy in the doctrine of the church derives from the fact that “it has never seriously and consistently been rooted in a conception of the being of God as triune.”1 This claim is so remarkable that it should surely make us stop and think. It seems we are being offered a new theological model. Why did the Eastern fathers, the Cappadocians—in particular, root their ecclesiology in a notion of the mystical body of Christ and not in their Trinitarian insights of persons in communion? There might be at least two reasons for this. By proposing the analogy of Trinitarian unity and church unity, theology might really be onto 1 Quoted by Christiaan Mostert, Colin E. Gunton and Daniel W. Hardy, “The Church on Earth: The Roots of Community” in On Being the Church: Essays on the Christian Community (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1989), 48.

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something new. On the other hand, maybe the fathers had some good reasons for not applying their Trinitarian perspectives in this area. I tend to think that the explanation lies in the latter and that this was not just related to their anti-arian polemic either. Perhaps their idea of Trinitarian communion of persons did not seem to them fruitful as a model for the church, at least compared with others such as the people and kingdom of God and the body of Christ. In order to be useful and durable, theological models seem to have to meet three requirements: 1. Biblical warrant. In this instance, what is the biblical weight of the analogy between the one God and the one church? It seems less imposing than its advocates suppose. Even in Ephesians 4 the reference to the Trinity is not to their communion, but to the individual persons. As Robert Letham says, “the unity of God takes a threefold pattern.”2 2. Theological usefulness. Is the one God/Trinitarian communion—one church/unity model—really useful in terms of being internally selfsustaining and capable of drawing other theological models into its scope? Can it be ‘thought into’ other images of the church? This is certainly an aspect the paper could have explored. 3. Applicability. Finally, a valid theological model stimulates ‘thinking outward’ and encourages orthopraxis. How does the koinonia model help with practical questions, such as that of openness and its limits? Does koinonia itself provide guidelines? What follows is an attempt to consider some of the suggestions of the paper in the light of these considerations.

Some Reflections on the One God—One Church Model for Unity Christiaan Mostert argues that some correspondence does exist between the unity of the church and the triune being of one God, and that it has consequences for the visible unity of the churches.3

2 R. Letham, The Holy Trinity. In Scripture, History, Theology and Worship (Phillipsburg: P & R Publishing, 2004), 84. 3 Section III.

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1. Our first comment regarding this is historical. To make a Trinitarian model, the matrix for church unity paradoxically raises the question of the communion of saints in the context of the history of redemption. What do we do with the Old Testament church? NT images such as the kingdom, the people or the body can draw the OT into their scope, as Paul does with the image of the olive tree in Romans. How would this been done in a Trinitarian sense? Surely it is enigmatic to say that the unity of the OT and NT people of God is Trinitarian? 2. Second comes a theological question. John D. Zizioulas affirms that the church is called to be “an image of the way in which God exists” and that “ecclesial being is bound to the very being of God.”4 Mostert admits that the meaning of this is not “immediately clear.” This is very charitable—we think it is not at all clear. If “God is a community of energies, of perichoretic interaction,” what does it mean for churches to be such? Even if it is recognized that the church can only ever be a muted echo of the triune being of God, the problem remains as to how this echo is heard and what is heard. A difficult theological move is being made here. It is claimed that the unity the economic Trinity reveals something about the immanent Trinity, the unbreakable unity that is taken as a model. This is subsequently applied to the unity of the church. The problematic move is from the immanent Trinity and perichoresis to the unity of the church. If the economic Trinity reveals the ontological Trinity in some ways, as Karl Rahner pointed out (and Dietrich Ritschl in the paper), we know little or nothing of the nature of immanent perichoresis, what it is, how it functions, or what it means. The immanent Trinity ever remains a mystery and, for this very reason, attempts at integrating God a se and ad extra are doomed to failure as models for church unity. The weak link is the immanent Trinity: practically nothing can be predicated of it. Discussions about the eternal generation of the Son always run into a similar problem. 3. Moreover, we have also the issue of Christology. In the NT, the nature of the church, its sacraments and its ministries, are functions of the risen Christ and serve to bind humanity to Christ as mediator. My question is as to whether a perichoretic view of church

4 Quoted by Mostert, section II, John D. Zizioulas, Being as Communion: Studies in Personhood and the Church (New York: St Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1993), 15.

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unity does not detract from a Christological one, particularly in the Chalcedonian sense. In some way, speaking about energies and the church being “a finite echo or bodying forth of the divine personal dynamics” could lead to confusion—the mixing of the divine and the human that Chalcedonian Christology and later the Filioque sought to avoid. In the person of the mediator the divine and human are joined, but remain distinct and without confusion. Commenting Athanasius, Kelly states: “[B]ecause of communion with Christ and incorporation in him, Christians form a mystic body.”5 Adoption of our humanity in Christ and oneness with him through participation in the mystic body is the basis of unity. Such a mystic union with Christ seems to avoid the spiritual confusion that pericherosis might lend to. Revelation and union are only in the union of the divine-human person of the Son. No communion exists outside his mediation this side of eternity. The move the perichoretic model makes is that it refers to the immanent Trinity what scripture and tradition refer to Christ. For instance, in the affirmation, “already the koinonia of the church, expressed in its life and its worship, notably in the sacraments of baptism and the Holy Supper, is a sharing in—and thus an image of—the perichoretic communion of the Persons of the Trinity, however much the conflict and brokenness that mark the actual life of the churches suggests the opposite.”6 Does this not stretch our imagination too far? 4. Finally, there are practical questions. In spite of the fact that eschatological koinonia is referred to as the model of perfect communion, does that help us now? Within the relations of perichoretic communion the divine persons do not have to deal with imperfection, heresy, and rebellion as the church does. How can the notion of communion in and of itself help us with practical issues of unity where human limitations, unbelief, and plain old sin raise their ugly heads? God is one, true and holy, and at some points his communion starts and at some points it stops, but when? What does that mean for church unity or interfaith dialogue?

5

J.N.D. Kelly, Initiation à la Doctrine des Pères de l’Eglise (Paris: Ed du Cerf, 1968),

413. 6

Mostert, Section III.

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The Priority of the Mediatorial Model For Church Unity, Visible and Invisible “The church’s one foundation is Jesus-Christ her Lord.”. . . The problem with the perichoretic model is that it seems to attempt to bring heaven down to earth, whereas it is only in the incarnation that this has happened. Thus the church finds its unity in mission. The foundation of the church is the mediatorial ministry of Christ. In him, God’s grace is given in the manifestation of kingship, priesthood, and truth. The grace given sacramentally to the church is expressed sacrificially in the body of Christ in prophetic proclamation, priestly forgiveness, and kingly victory over sin. In his threefold office as prophet, priest, and king, Christ is the given sacrament uniting the church to himself and in himself. Divine grace in Christ constitutes the church invisible. In response, the church visible practices sacrificial grace in ever progressing unity in truth, reconciliation, and mercy. Here the lines and limits are set by and in Christ. The pilgrim church is called to witness to unity in him in conformity to the image of his unique person, who he was, what he did, and who he is.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

TRINITARIAN ECCLESIOLOGY AND THE SEARCH FOR UNITY. A REFORMED READING OF MIROSLAV VOLF Gijsbert van den Brink

Introduction The recent worldwide revival of interest in the doctrine of the Trinity among Christian theologians has had important consequences for other parts of theology. Rather than considering the doctrine of the Trinity as an isolated locus, many voices plead for a rephrasing of “the whole network of Christian doctrine (. . .) in a Trinitarian way.”1 By ascribing a methodological function to the doctrine of the Trinity for the elaboration of all classical doctrinal topics (and even for other areas of Christian reflection, such as dialogue with the natural sciences), they advocate the development of a fully Trinitarian theology. In this vein, the significance of the doctrine of the Trinity for, e.g., the doctrine of creation, has been examined, but also its possible influence on theological anthropology, the person and work of Christ, eschatology, the theology of religions, etc. It does not come as a surprise, therefore, that the implications of the doctrine of the Trinity for ecclesiology should also become the subject of intense reflection and debate in Christian theology. Indeed, such a debate has been taking place in recent years, and an important landmark in it is Miroslav Volf’s monograph, After Our Likeness.2 This

1 A.I. McFadyen, “The Trinity and Human Individuality. The Condition of Relevance,” Theology 95 (1992), 10. Quoted in Richard M. Fermer, “The Limits of Trinitarian Theology as a Methodological Paradigm,” Neue Zeitschrift für Systematische Theologie und Religionsphilosophie 41 (1999), 159. 2 Miroslav Volf, After Our Likeness. The Church as the Image of the Trinity (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998). In a recent volume that traces the possible influence of the Trinitarian renaissance on the various loci of the classical dogmatic scheme, the chapter on ecclesiology consists of a core part from After Our Likeness. See Paul Louis Metzger (ed.), Trinitarian Soundings in Systematic Theology (London: T&T Clark, 2005), 153–74.

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book is an attempt to develop a free church ecclesiology that transcends the individualism that is so characteristic in the free church tradition by means of a critical reading of Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox ecclesiologies. Meanwhile, Volf has become a member of an Episcopalian church in the USA. Since this personal move does not necessarily imply that Volf no longer adopts the ecclesiological position he unfolds in After Our Likeness, I will limit myself to analyzing the argument of this book and especially focus on its implications for the unity of the church.

The Trinity and the Church Volf does not take the doctrine of the Trinity as the sole starting point of his ecclesiology. On the contrary, in line with free church tradition, an important point of departure is of a Christological nature: constitutive for the church is the gathering of believers in the name of Christ. Matthew 18:20, a text which has always been popular for undergirding a so-called believers’ church ecclesiology (from John Smyth onwards), is a key biblical text in this connection, also for Volf.3 The church does not have anything to do with buildings or bishops or with preachers or parishes in the first place, but with a community of worshipping people. The church is, first of all, an assembled community. It is an assembly of faithful people coming together (wherever and whenever) in the name of the Lord. So, “the church is the church of Jesus Christ . . . or it is not a church at all.”4 The phrase ‘in the name of the Lord’ means that the goal of their coming together is to worship Christ as Savior, to bear witness to him, and to profess faith in him as their Lord and the Lord of the entire world. So the church as a congregation assembled in the name of Christ presupposes the faith and commitment of those who gather together.5 Volf acknowledges that one can question from an exegetical point of view whether the “two or three” from Matthew 18:20 coincides with the ekklesia (“if he refuses to listen to them [viz. the two or three], tell it to the church,” vs. 17, suggests otherwise), but he argues that an overall reading of the New Testament makes it 3 4 5

Volf, After Our Likeness, 136. Volf, After Our Likeness, 146. Volf, After Our Likeness, 147.

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plausible to consider Matt. 18:20 theologically as a statement about the church. So wherever such meetings are being held, we encounter the ‘church’ in the full sense of the word. In this way, Volf firmly roots his ecclesiological thought in the free church tradition, with its typical emphasis on the individual choice of people who have already come to be believers. To be sure, Volf recognizes that Christ does not promise his presence to individual persons, but to the assembling community. So the relation between Christ and the individual believer is mediated by the church. This is what becomes clear from the sacraments: nobody can administer the sacraments to him- or herself (John Smyth’s decision to baptize himself is characterized by Volf as “unfortunate”),6 whereas the sacraments have to be received personally.7 But in this connection, Volf warns against the view that in administering the sacraments the church would distribute the salvific grace of God. For again, following Luther and Calvin, Volf argues that the sacraments presuppose faith. “There is no church without sacraments; but there are no sacraments without . . . faith.”8 Therefore, individual faith remains a constitutive category for the church. It is not as though it were a human activity; Volf emphatically argues that faith is a gift of God through the Spirit. But then God is indeed the sole subject of salvation—not the church. Although one does receive faith through the church, one does not receive it from the church.9 In this way Volf remains firmly in touch with the Protestant tradition (especially its congregational variety). However, he tries to bring this tradition into closer relation with more communion centered ecclesiologies, both from a Roman Catholic and from an Orthodox background. Volf is deeply convinced of the need to do this, given the fact that all religious traditions have to face the consumer mentality of modern society. “In a culture resembling a warehouse, where a person can take whatever he or she wants, religion too must become a ‘commodity’. . . .”10 Therefore Volf attempts to counter this (post)modern tendency towards individualism, which is also deeply inherent in his

6 7 8 9 10

Volf, After Our Likeness, 153. Volf, After Our Likeness, 163. Volf, After Our Likeness, 154. Volf, After Our Likeness, 166. Volf, After Our Likeness, 14.

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own tradition, by using the doctrine of the Trinity as a model or mirror for ecclesiology. Of course, he is not the first one to do so,11 but he does it in a very well-considered and elaborate way, distinguishing carefully between the possibilities and the limits of the analogy. As to the possibility (and legitimacy), he puts forward three arguments. First, ever since Parmenides, Western philosophy is largely characterized by an infertile dialectic between oneness and plurality—a dichotomy between unification and pluralization. In our thinking about God, humanity, and the world—and so, also in our thinking about church—unity and plurality, communion, and persons should be kept in balance. According to Volf, “[t]o think consistently in Trinitarian terms means to escape this dichotomy.”12 The triune God is the ground of both unity and multiplicity. Although the impact of the way we think about God on other domains of our thinking should not be over-estimated, “ecclesial and social reality on the one hand, and Trinitarian models on the other are mutually determinative.”13 The second argument is theological rather than philosophical: Entrance in the Christian church takes place through baptism, and baptism is by definition a Trinitarian event. Through baptism believers are initiated both into the Trinitarian community of God and into the ecclesial community. Now “[i]f Christian initiation is a Trinitarian event, then the church must speak of the Trinity as its determining reality.”14 Volf grounds this conclusion not only in the famous passage in Matthew 28 where Jesus commands his disciples to baptize the nations in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Spirit, but more generally in the way in which the New Testament (especially in its triadic texts) relates the divine community and the community of believers to each other (John 17:21; 1 Cor. 12:4–6; Eph. 4:4–6). The communion of the church with the triune God implies a more than formal correspondence between Trinity and church. And relations between the many in the church should mirror the mutual love and equality of the divine persons.

11 Cf. e.g. Colin Gunton, “The Church on Earth: The Roots of Community,” in Colin Gunton & Daniel W. Hardy (eds.), On Being the Church: Essays on the Christian Community (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1989), 48–80. 12 Volf, After Our Likeness, 193. Remarkably, Volf does not mention Colin Gunton’s masterful analysis of this dialectic in his The One, the Three and the Many. God, Creation and the Culture of Modernity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993). 13 Volf, After Our Likeness, 194. 14 Volf, After Our Likeness, 195.

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Volf’s third argument for using the doctrine of the Trinity as a model for ecclesiology consists in an appeal to the Christian tradition. Origen already argued that the church is full of the holy Trinity. And Cyprian described the church as “the people united in one in the unity of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.”15 At the same time, Volf is (I think more than some others) sensitive to the limits of the analogy between the Trinity and the church. He makes two important qualifications. First of all, Volf concurs with Erik Peterson that the mystery of the Trinity can only be found in God and not in creation. Theology and anthropology cannot be reduced to each other. The this—worldly character of God’s revelation, however, which “aims at the indwelling of the triune God in the world”16 enables us to convert Trinitarian ideas into ecclesiological ones.17 Although there is no identity between both, there certainly is an analogy. Second, there is a difference between our broken, historical situation as Christians now, and our eschatological future. So, apart from the theological proviso, there is also an eschatological proviso. Because the church is still on its way as a sojourning people, her correspondence with the perfect Trinitarian community in God is imperfect. However, “[t]he eschatologically relevant question is how the church is to correspond to the Trinity within history.”18 One may question whether Volf’s analysis of the limits of the ecclesiological use of Trinitarian doctrine is critical enough. Paul Fiddes has argued in relation to Trinitarian language that its point “is not to provide an example to copy, but to draw us into participation in God, out of which our human life can be transformed.”19 As long as we consider our view of God as an example that we humans should copy, these copies will at best remain imperfect, and at worst become perverted. According to Fiddes, it is only when we are brought into communion with God that the Spirit of God can transform our hearts

15 Volf, After Our Likeness, 195–96. Origen, Selecta in Psalmos, PG 12.1265B; Cyprian, Treatise IV, “On the Lord’s Prayer,” IV, 23; Ante-Nicene Fathers 5, 454. Volf also mentions Tertullian, who viewed the community assembling in the name of Christ as an image of the Trinity (197). Cf. Anne Hunt, “The Trinity and the Church,” Irish Theological Quarterly 70 (2005), 217. 16 Volf, After Our Likeness, 192. 17 Volf, After Our Likeness, 198. 18 Volf, After Our Likeness, 200 (italics by Volf ). 19 Paul S. Fiddes, Participating in God. A Pastoral Doctrine of the Trinity (London: Darton, Longman & Todd, 2000), 66 (see also 28–29).

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and attitudes, and gradually reshape us according to God’s image.20 Our views of God need not be like adequate pictures, which is, after all, impossible as long as we are in via rather than in patria, but should rather conduct us into the nearness of God. That is why they must be Trinitarian in character. That is: they should draw on the biblical narrative about Jesus, and account for the fact that, as Christians, we only come into contact with God through the Spirit of Jesus, God’s final and perfect image, who is one with the Father. Clearly, however, Volf would agree with Fiddes’s criticism of imitation language and with his preference for participation language.21 For only when by personal faith we have communion with God in Christ through the Spirit does it become possible that our way of being the church is gradually transformed into the likeness of the divine communion (cf. 1 Cor. 3:18).22

Persons and Communion After these preparatory considerations, we can now examine the way in which Volf relates the doctrine of the Trinity to ecclesiology. What kind of church do we get when we start our theological reflection about the church from the doctrine of the Trinity? Volf develops his own view here in discussion with important representatives of the Roman Catholic as well as the Eastern Orthodox tradition: Joseph Ratzinger (the present Pope Benedict XVI) and John Zizioulas, titular bishop of Pergamon, and sometime professor at St. Vladimir’s Seminary in New York. Volf shows how in the work of both theologians, Western and Eastern varieties, respectively, of the doctrine of the Trinity correspond to a specific view of the church. It is true that Ratzinger, to start with him, considers the oneness and threeness of God as equally important (“equiprimal”),23 but in fact his Trinitarian thinking starts from the divine unity. Ratzinger sees the persons of Father, Son, and Spirit as relations within this

20 For a sketch of how this transformation can be conceived of (and how theological and psychological categories are intertwined in it), see William P. Alston, “The Indwelling of the Holy Spirit,” in William P. Alston, Divine Nature and Human Language (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1989), 223–52. 21 Cf. Volf, After Our Likeness, e.g., 212–13. 22 See also on this point, as well as on many others in this paper, the illuminating contribution of Christiaan Mostert to the present volume. 23 Volf, After Our Likeness, 201.

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fundamental substantial unity. Similarly, in his ecclesiology, the one universal church is constitutive for the many local churches. To be sure, these local churches resemble the perichoretic community of the divine persons in that they are intensely involved with each other. But these local churches can only exist from and toward the universal church—as represented, we may suppose, by the Church of Rome. “Local churches are churches precisely in their relation to the whole.”24 In both cases—God and the church—it is the unity that grounds and sustains the plurality. As in Augustine’s doctrine of the Trinity which so heavily influenced the Western tradition, the persons in God coincide with the intra-Trinitarian relations, so that they scarcely have an ontological substratum,25 and as a result of which the opera ad extra indivisa sunt, i.e., God operates as a single subject towards the world. Translated into ecclesiological categories this means that the universal church dominates and to some extent even absorbs the local churches. Like Moltmann and many (but not all!) other contemporary theologians, Volf sees a clear distinction between Western and Eastern conceptions of the Trinity. John Zizioulas is an important representative of the latter. According to him, in our thinking about the divine Trinity, we must (like the Cappadocian fathers) start from the concept of the person. It is the three persons who together constitute the one being of God. Therefore, the notion of the one divine substance is not ontologically prior to the concept of the person. It is rather the other way around because the divine substance exists only as persons. The real being of God is not somewhere behind or beyond the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, but precisely in the mutual communion of these three persons. Continuing another Eastern line of thought in this connection, however, Zizioulas, at the same time, ascribes ontological primacy to the Father, who is seen as the archè or cause of the divine existence, the source of the Trinity.26 The ecclesiological counterpart of this view of the Trinity is as follows. First, there is no universal church behind or beyond the many local churches. Instead, these local churches themselves constitute the

24

Volf, After Our Likeness, 201. Volf, After Our Likeness, 71. 26 Cf. e.g. his essay “The Doctrine of the Holy Trinity. The Significance of the Cappadocian Contribution,” in Christoph Schwöbel (ed.), Trinitarian Theology Today (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1995), 51–52. 25

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universal church. Every local church is the totality of the universal church at this particular place. Second, a prerequisite of being an instantiation of the church in this way is that the local church is open to ecclesial community with other local churches, realizing that it is impossible to represent the universal church on one’s own. Third, it is the figure of the bishop who mirrors in the church the primary position of the Father as the archè of the Trinity. So, although Zizioulas claims to have excluded “all pyramidal notions” from ecclesiology, at the same time he legitimizes hierarchical structures in the church, with bishops exerting authority over the community.27 Although the bishop is conditioned by the community (as the Father is in a sense conditioned by the Son), he himself constitutes the congregation: “The oneness of the bishop in each local church is a sine qua non condition for the catholicity of this church.”28 Now Volf agrees with Zizioulas on the second point, but differs from him with regard to the first and third one. That is, he argues against the pre-eminence of the figure of the bishop, given the principal equality of all believers that mirrors the equality of the divine persons. However, he agrees with Zizioulas that in looking for correspondence between the Trinity and the church, one should not take as a point of departure the relationship between the one divine nature and the three divine persons; for if every local church is identical with the one universal church and if the universal church corresponds to the divine nature, then each divine person is identical to the divine nature, which would mean that the divine persons cannot be distinguished from one another anymore. Therefore, like Moltmann and Pannenberg, Volf opts for a perichoretic understanding of God’s unity: Father, Son, and Spirit mutually permeate and indwell each other, but in doing so, they do not cease to be different persons.29 The counterpart of this in ecclesiology is, indeed, a close relationship and inter-connectedness in and between local churches. Volf is keen, however, to remind us of his two provisos. In a strict sense, there can be no correspondence between the perichoretic unity

27 John Zizioulas, Being as Communion. Studies in Personhood and the Church (Crestwood: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1985), 183; cf. Volf, After Our Likeness, 112. 28 Volf, After Our Likeness, 113; quoting John Zizioulas, “The Bishop in the Theological Doctrine of the Orthodox Church,” Kanon 7 (1985), 30–31. 29 Volf, After Our Likeness, 209.

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of God and ecclesial unity because human subjects are by definition external rather than internal to each other. Moreover, whereas the Trinitarian community is a perfect communion of love, the ecclesial community, as long as it still awaits its eschatological consummation, is not. Only in the eschaton will it fully participate in the divine unity.30 In its broken and transient historical constellation, we have to account for the possibility of people being abused by each other, as long as we do not (yet), like God, live in perfect love. This is why in ecclesiology talk of mutual love is not enough, but in the church we must also be held together by a covenant with mutual rights.31 As long as we live “on this side of God’s new creation,”32 we are not just a communion of love but also a communion of the will. In this connection, Volf criticizes Zizioulas for presenting an “over-realized eschatology,” which ignores the present-day earthly reality of sin and unredemption.33 Having said this, Volf agrees with Zizioulas that the intra-Trinitarian relationships should shape ecclesial relations already now (and not only in the eschatological future). In elaborating this analogy, Volf starts with intra-ecclesial relationships, in other words, the internal relationships between the members of a single church. Only when individual believers participate in the Spirit of God who dwells in the community can this community correspond to the Trinity. “. . . the unity of the church is grounded in the interiority of the Spirit . . . in Christians.”34 Next, the perichoresis of the divine persons also has inter-ecclesial relevance. Like the divine persons, different churches have different identifying characteristics, by means of which they should enrich one another.35 When the Trinity is a communion open to others,36 different churches cannot live in separation and isolation from each other. “I suggest taking the openness of every church toward all other churches as an indispensable condition of ecclesiality.”37 For the identity of local churches is co-determined by their relations with other churches, in the same way as the identity of the Son is determined by his relations with the Father and the Spirit, etc. So, from a theological point of view

30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37

John 17. Volf, After Our Likeness, 207, 220. Volf, After Our Likeness, 220. Volf, After Our Likeness, 201. Volf, After Our Likeness, 213. Volf, After Our Likeness, 213. John 17. Volf, After Our Likeness, 156.

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local churches cannot be closed systems to each other; rather, they become catholic only insofar as they open up to each other. In this way, Volf tries to enrich his own free church ecclesiology by giving proper attention from a Trinitarian perspective to classical nota ecclesiae, such as the unity and catholicity of the church.

Some Critical Reflections It will not come as a surprise that critical appropriations of Volf’s proposal for a Trinitarian ecclesiology differ according to the background of those who engage with his views. From a Roman Catholic point of view, Volf’s rendering of Ratzinger’s ecclesiology has been criticized. It has been argued that Ratzinger’s Trinitarian conception of the church is less static and directed towards uniformity than Volf suggests.38 On the other hand, Volf’s exegetical arguments for the view that the Pauline metaphor of the church as the body of Christ does not imply institutional church unity have been characterized as “so weak that they do not merit comprehensive discussion.”39 From a more liberal perspective, Dutch theologian Kees de Groot critiques Volf’s near identification of the church with the assembling community, arguing that it is also possible to belong to the church in less committed ways. Consciously or not, Volf’s congregationalist definition of what it is to be a church excludes many people who want to be related more loosely to the assembling community. In this connection, De Groot refers to the “service model” of the church for an alternative: adapting itself to the postmodern situation, the church has to be a spiritual room, a service institute that facilitates solidarity (verbondenheid) by addressing the spiritual desires of individual believers with all their ambivalences.40 Personally, I am inclined to side with Volf in this discussion. It is true that in the church we can tolerate the

38 Ralph Del Colle, “Communion and Trinity: The Free Church Ecclesiology of Miroslav Volf—A Catholic Response,” Pneuma. The Journal of the Society for Pentecostal Studies 22 (2000), 303–27. 39 Marcel Sarot, “Trinity and Church. Trinitarian Perspectives on the Identity of the Christian Communion,” a paper delivered at the Annual Conference of the Society for the Study of Theology, Soesterberg (the Netherlands), 1 April 2009, 7 (footnote 27). 40 Kees de Groot, “ ‘Wij zijn de kerk!’ Maar wie zijn wij? In discussie met het congregationalisme” (‘We Are the Church!’ But Who Are We? A Discussion with Congregationalism), Collationes 36 (2006), 303–20 (313–14).

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lack of involvement of many members. But it is something else to justify such a lack of involvement by giving it a theological legitimation. As Volf holds, it is the worshipping community, seeking to let itself be transformed by the Word and work of the triune God, that constitutes the church. Without such a committed community, the church (including any services it delivers) would soon vanish. Therefore, it seems to me that the gathering community is, indeed, a proper starting point for ecclesiological reflection—though not, as De Groot helpfully reminds us, its only concern. Next, Canadian theologian Nicholas Jesson criticizes Volf for not being consistent in his approach in that he builds his Trinitarian ecclesiology on a Christological substructure. By starting from the ideal of a church consisting of individual believers who choose to gather in the name of Christ, Volf in fact justifies the individualism and consumer mentality which he seeks to overcome. Because he does not think in a Trinitarian way (i.e., in communal terms) about the church from the very beginning, one may wonder whether his subsequent Trinitarian approach can still counter the individualist tendency which is inherent in his free church starting point. Jesson suggests that a more positive valuation of Zizioulas’ Orthodox Trinitarian ecclesiology would remedy this defect.41 From a Reformed point of view, finally, I think that Volf has given us an impressive example of how to do ecclesiology without renouncing one’s own tradition, but also without absolutizing it. Volf seriously wants to learn from the more community based ecclesiologies that reign in other traditions. At the same time and in line with Reformed theology, he makes a case for the pivotal importance of personal faith and public confession for the life of the church. Indeed, the church is not an institute on its own, i.e., separate from individual believers, but ‘we are the church.’ The Spirit does not indwell the church apart from indwelling individual believers. Nevertheless, it seems to me that, as Jesson argues, Volf’s emphasis on the church as basically a believers’ church aggravates the contemporary problems of extreme individualism in religious affairs and the rise of a religious consumer mentality instead of helping to

41 Nicholas Jesson, “Where Two or Three Are Gathered. Miroslav Volf’s Free Church Ecclesiology” (paper University of Toronto, 2003), www.ecumenism.net/ archive/jesson_volf.pdf (last visited 30 March 2009).

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solve them, and Volf’s recent conversion to the Episcopalian tradition suggests that he may have discovered this himself. The way out here, however, should not necessarily be found in a more positive evaluation of Eastern Orthodox ecclesiology, which as Volf rightly shows, has some unconvincing and unhelpful ramifications. Instead, Volf could have taken his own biblical-theological argument for a Trinitarian approach of ecclesiology more seriously. For if it is through baptism that human beings are being drawn into both the Trinitarian and the ecclesial community, then baptism must be a cornerstone of our ecclesiology. According to Reformed intuitions, it is baptism as a sign of the covenant of God with his people, rather than personal faith, that should be considered constitutive for the being of the church. Even when someone no longer joins the regular worship services, as long as one is baptized one belongs in a sense to the church and should not be excluded from the ecclesial community because one still belongs to the covenant of God. Despite the wish of some people, nobody can make his or her baptism undone, and the church sees this once-and-for-all character of baptism as a sign of God’s covenantal faithfulness. In this way, we take the unity of the church more seriously than by limiting the church to those believers who are actively involved. Significantly, the concept of a covenant does play a role in Volf’s ecclesiology. Following John Smyth (1570–1612), however, he describes it as a purely human category.42 In line with the principle ‘where two or three gather,’ Smyth considered the covenant as a “vowe, promise, oath”43 by means of which believers join together with God and with themselves. Even when the divine initiative in making the covenant is acknowledged, the full emphasis is on the human obligation to fulfil the conditions of the covenant.44 It seems to me that here another Protestant alternative than Volf’s is preferable, viz. one that starts from God’s initiative in making the covenant and from God’s faithfulness to it. This is not to belittle the importance of the notion of personal faith as it figures so prominently in Volf’s ecclesiology. The covenant of God as signified in baptism is not a mode of infused grace, but asks for a personal response to the calling of the triune God in a life characterized by faith and conversion. Precisely in the atmosphere and context 42

Volf, After Our Likeness, e.g., 207, 277. W.T. Whitley (ed.), The Works of John Smyth (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1915), 254; quoted by Volf, After Our Likeness, 175. 44 Volf, After Our Likeness, 175–76. 43

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of the church, however, such a response can gradually take shape. But as long as this response fails to appear, this is a reason for embrace rather than for exclusion—to paraphrase another title of Volf.45 Here, too, we have to make an eschatological proviso. As an ecclesial community in our broken historical context, we are not yet what we will be: a community consisting only of perfected saints. Nevertheless, we keep striving and do our utmost to reach what is ahead.46 This is the space, as well as the field of tension, within which our life as a church is enacted. All in all, Volf has made clear that in ecumenical discussions about the unity and diversity of the church, high church ecclesiologies of a Roman Catholic or Orthodox brand are not the only partners in town. A Protestant ecclesiological view, such as Volf’s, that is open to learning from other traditions, but at the same time puts the strong points of its own tradition on the table, should be taken with equal seriousness—especially when its still individualistic overtones are counterbalanced by an anchoring of ecclesiology in the Reformed doctrine of the covenant of the triune God.

45 Miroslav Volf, Exclusion and Embrace. A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and Reconciliation (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1996). 46 Phil. 3:12f.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

THE CHURCH AS SACRAMENT Martien E. Brinkman

No Confessional Absolutism At first sight and from a historical point of view, it seems rather absurd to organize a conference about the contribution of the Reformed tradition to the unity of the church. It sounds rather ironic: the unity of the church as a challenge to Reformed theology. Unity is, of course, a great challenge to the Reformed tradition! Its lack of unity could be called one of the greatest tragedies of Western church history. It is a history of repetitive division. Struggling for the true church inevitably led to controversies: Where God’s truth is at stake, no compromise can be allowed. At the same time, the history of the Reformed churches illustrates the fact that any attempt to preserve the true church by division is eventually self-defeating. Anyone who seeks purity by separating from others runs the risk of ending up in sectarianism. In 1894 the Dutch theologian Abraham Kuyper, the founder of VU University Amsterdam, stated in his Encyclopedia of Sacred Theology that “we alone do not constitute the Church of Christ on earth.” “Rather”—so he states—“we confess that the unity of the body of Christ very much transcends our confessional boundaries. The charismata which are also theologically revealed outside of our own territory can therefore offer what we lack, and only complacent narrow-mindedness can refuse to profit by this.”1 The anti-sectarian motive—next to an epistemological motive that pointed to the limitations of human knowledge and a historical motive that pointed to the varieties in historical development—was one of the most central motives in Kuyper’s doctrine of the pluriformity of

1

Kuyper, Encyclopaedie der Heilige Godgeleerdheid II (Kampen: Kok, 1894, repr. 1909), 279 (273–280: “Deformatiën der Theologie”). Cf. Engl. transl. Encyclopedia of Sacred Theology: Its Principles (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1899), 319–327 (“Deformations of Theology”), esp. 326.

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the church. This motive can be called, although slightly anachronistically, an ecumenical motive as well. It is more or less the corollary of the anti-sectarian motive. It is in the nature of things that resistance against the ‘narrow-mindedness’ of sectarianism carries with it a certain broad-mindedness that allows the recognition of other churches as churches of Christ, although—Kuyper would always add—not with the same rights.2 What was the real intention of Kuyper’s often contested doctrine of the pluriformity of the church? Was it an oratio pro domo to justify his own split from the Dutch Reformed Church? Did he need it to defend his coalition as prime minister with the Roman Catholics? Or was anti-sectarianism really the main motive? We can at least recognize a great measure of ambivalence in his appreciation of historical developments. On the one hand, diversity is given a firm foundation in the richness of creation and is appreciated as confirmation of God’s providence. On the other hand, diversity is denounced as sinful deformation. Even the qualification ‘deformation,’ however, contains an element of appreciation as well. It is—to quote Kuyper himself—“a sentence against confessional absolutism.”3

The Contextual Character of Each Reformed Confession In this opposition to confessional absolutism, we encounter one of the main characteristics of the Reformed tradition. Although the prominence of the doctrine of the ecclesia purissima seems to show the opposite, Calvin and the Reformed fathers never absolutized their own church tradition. For example, they never denied the legitimacy of baptism in the Roman Catholic Church. However, in spite of this—let us call it a basically ecumenical attitude—the history of the Reformed churches is a history of diversity. My first thesis would be that one of the most important reasons for this diversity is the fundamentally contextual character of the Reformed way of confessing.

2 Cf. M.E. Brinkman, “Kuyper’s Concept of the Pluriformity of the Church,” in C. van der Kooi & J. de Bruijn (eds), Kuyper Reconsiderd: Aspects of his Life and Work (Amsterdam: VU Publishers, 1999), 111–122. 3 A. Kuyper, Encyclopaedie, 278 (Encyclopedia, 325).

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Reformed people have taken pride in always having confessed their faith in their own way, in tempore and in loco. The fact that their confessions are very much products of a certain time and place is not regarded by them as a disadvantage or admission of weakness; but rather, as a point in their favor. As they see it, this is the way that authentic confessing will take place. Confessions are contextually determined. Hence, Reformed confessions are named after their region of origin: Heidelberg Catechism, Westminster Confession, Canons of Dordt, Confessio Scotica, Belgica and Helvetica, the Ungarian Confession, the Barmen Declaration, and the Belhar Confession. Because of this authentically contextual character of the Reformed tradition, however, many have blamed the Reformed for not having any sense of unity beyond their own region and time. It is clear that transregional, not to speak of transnational, structures are weak in the Reformed tradition. In his preface to a volume of contemporary confessions, Reformed Witness Today, Lukas Vischer, former director of the World Council of Churches’ Commission on Faith and Order, explicitly links the issue of (dis)unity with the historical tradition of confession: “The churches belonging to the Reformed tradition have always been inclined to state their deepest convictions afresh in every new generation.”4 That is to their credit as well as their debit. Unlike the Lutheran World Federation, whose members regard the Augsburg Confession as their doctrinal marker, the Alliance of Reformed Churches, for example, has no single confession to which all its members subscribe and which all agree to use as a test of membership in the global family. It is up to each member church of the Alliance to adopt confessions, to revise older standards, or to compose new statements. This is the reason why in the Reformed tradition there has never been any kind of conclusion to the doctrinal development as we see, at least officially, in Lutheranism in the Book of Concord of 1580.5

4 L. Vischer(ed.), Reformed Witness Today: A Collection of Confessions and Statements of Faith Issued by Reformed Churches (Bern: Evangelische Arbeitsstelle Ökumene, 1982), 7. Cf. A. Boesak, Black and Reformed: Apartheid, Liberation and the Calvinist Tradition (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1984), 95: “I indeed believe that black Christians should formulate a Reformed confession for our time and situation in our own words.” 5 A.P.F. Sell, A Reformed, Evangelical, Catholic Theology: The Contribution of the World Alliance of Reformed Churches 1875–1982 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1991), 74–75.

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Whereas the national Reformed churches often have a clearly confessional profile, as a whole the Reformed tradition lacks not only a hierarchic teaching ministry, but also anything like a hierarchia veritatum, a hierarchy of truths.6 Although the discussion around Calvin’s well-known distinction between fundamental and non-fundamental articles of faith seemed to be a step in that direction, in general it may be said that, in international ecumenical dialogues, the Reformed tradition is a complicated discussion partner. In fact, it is difficult to trace it as discussion partner exactly—its confessional background is too mobile for this. Time and again lists of Reformed characteristics differ. Some point to the emphasis on God’s sovereignty, the role of the covenant, and the all encompassing lordship of Jesus Christ. Others underscore the emphasis on the sanctification of private and public life, on the authority of scripture (the Old Testament included), the presbyterial-synodal church order, and the idea of the government as servant of God.7 This plurality must, to a significant degree, be attributed to its understanding of church order. A long established principle of Reformed ecclesiology holds that no authority is superior to the highest judicatory of a particular church. No church may speak for another.8 Until now that is the dominant rule in Reformed circles. Therefore, while one may be sympathetic to the purposes prompting the 1982 Assembly of the World Alliance of Churches to declare a status confessionis in response to the indefensible position of the white Reformed churches of South Africa on apartheid, its authority to do so is questionable.9 6 G. Vandervelde, “BEM and the ‘Hierarchy of Truths’: A Vatican Contribution to the Reception Process,” Journal of Ecumenical Studies 25 (1988) 74–84, esp. 78–84. 7 P. Fries, “Fundamental Consensus and Church Fellowship: A Reformed Perspective,” in J.A. Burgess (ed.), In Search of Christian Unity: Basic Consensus, Basic Differences (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1991), 152–161, esp. 157–160; K. Blei, “The WARC in Bilateral Dialogue: Introductory Remarks,” in H.S. Wilson (ed.), Bilateral Dialogues (Studies from the WARC, No. 24)(Geneva: WARC, 1993), 1–15, esp. 11; H.M. Vroom, “On Being ‘Reformed,” in C. Lienemann-Perrin, H.M. Vroom and M. Weinrich (eds), Reformed and Ecumenical: On Being Reformed in Ecumenical Encounters (Currents of Encounter, Vol. 16) (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2000), 153–169, esp. 164, and L. Vischer, “The Reformed Tradition and its Multiple Facets,” in J.J. Bauswein and L. Vischer (eds), The Reformed Family Worldwide: A Survey of Reformed Churches, Theological Schools and International Organizations (Grand Rapids: Erdmans, 1999), 1–33, esp. 26–33. 8 Fries, “Fundamental Consensus,” 154–155. 9 “Resolution on Racism and South Africa,” in Ottawa 82—Proceedings of the 21st General Council of the World Alliance of Reformed Churches (Presbyterian and Congregational) Held at Ottawa, Canada, August 17–27, 1982 (Geneva: WARC, 1983),

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Pronouncements on behalf of their own tradition are virtually impossible for the Reformed churches. One may rightly speak of a Reformed magisterium, but only in reference to its churches and not to the tradition itself.

The Catholic Character of Each Reformed Confession Is it possible—at the least—to find criteria to characterize this plurality in a more precise way? This question is all the more urgent for the World Alliance of Reformed Churches because two thirds of this ‘world communion of Reformed churches’ consists of young churches from Africa and Asia. Within these churches a similar urge for their own witness of faith in tempore and in loco may be observed as was the case with the Reformed fathers from the sixteenth century onwards. The best known of these new confessions is probably the Belhar Confession of 1982. The Belhar Confession is a fierce accusation that was formulated from within the circles of the Dutch Reformed Mission Church in South Africa and aimed against the theology behind South African policy and even the theology of apartheid.10 With respect to these new confessions, Vischer—in his preface to the already mentioned volume, Reformed Witness Today—raises a number of hermeneutical questions. He asks, for example, “How is the relation of the old and the new to be understood? Are the earlier confessions the criterion for judging the new? Or are the old to be read in the light of the new? . . . How are the differences to be evaluated?”.11 Vischer has raised the question—which criteria should be used when discussing the continuity of a tradition? The question is especially complicated in relation to the Reformed tradition. Within Reformed circles there has never been a single church that wished to make its

176–180, esp. 177–178. Cf. D.J. Smit, “What does ‘Status Confessionis’ mean?,” Journal of Theology for Southern Africa (1984) no. 47, 21–46, and G. Verstraelen-Gilhuis, A New Look at Christianity in Africa (Gweru: Mambo Press, 1992), 9–36 (“Apartheid, Churches and Black Theology in South Africa”), esp. 17–24. 10 See for the text, L. Vischer, Reformed Witness Today, 19–22. Cf. for a theological justification, D.J. Smit, “ ‘No other motives would give us the right’: Reflections on Contextuality from a Reformed Experience,” in M.E. Brinkman and D. van Keulen (eds), Christian Identity in Cross-Cultural Perspective (Studies in Reformed Theology 8) (Zoetermeer: Meinema, 2003), 130–159. 11 Vischer, Reformed Witness Today, 8.

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confession the only recognized confession. Although it might be that many a church has cherished this as its most profound wish, a concrete attempt towards this, Vischer argues, has never been undertaken. There is for Reformed churches, however, a great and growing need for an exchange of insights on the fundamental issues they face as they confess their faith in their situation. Even a legitimate, contextual confession such as the Belhar Confession needs such an exchange with other contemporary confessions and with confessions of the past because it is always the intention of any Reformed confession to serve not only the interests of a small limited group of believers in a certain time and place, but also of the whole church of Christ.12 Reformed confessions have always combined a distinctly Reformed understanding of the gospel with the claim that this is a true expression of the apostolic teaching of the one catholic church. Their intention is always to be really catholic. Hence, my second thesis: The only legitimate intention of each contextual Reformed confession must always be to articulate the catholic character of the Reformed tradition ‘Catholic’ means here: emphasizing the connectedness with the church of Christ of the past and of the present. Once a church turns in upon itself and seeks to function completely independently from other churches, it distorts a primary aspect of its ecclesial character. So, catholicity belongs to the definition of the local character of each church. Only in this openness to communion does each church fully live its own catholicity.13 This catholicity of the church cannot simply be equated with universality. The catholic church as a communion of saints (communio sanctorum) has at least two dimensions: a less visible diachronic, historic dimension and a more visible synchronic, universal dimension. Protestants, and among them especially Reformed Protestants, face the problem of concretely manifesting this second dimension of visible, synchronic universality among their churches. They often have

12

Smit, “ ‘No other motives’,” 137–138. M.E. Brinkman, “The Theological Basis for the Local-Universal Debate,” in L.J. Koffeman and H. Witte (eds), Of All Times and of All Places: Protestants and Catholics on the Church Local and Universal (IIMO Research Publication 56) (Zoetermeer: Meinema, 2001), 171–185, esp. 173–174. 13

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only weak structures beyond the confines of their own congregation or their own national church.

The Interconnectedness of the Contextual and the Catholic Aspect In every context there is a potential ambiguity about the way the gospel is proclaimed. Contextual differences have helped to shape confessional divisions, but the diversity of contexts also calls for authentic engagement with the diverse riches of scripture. Hence, my third thesis: We cannot play the one concept (contextuality) against the other (catholicity). Contextuality, defined as the interpretation and the proclamation of the gospel within the life and culture of a specific people and community always plays a double role: a critical one and an affirmative one. A contextual proclamation of the gospel can seek to judge the cultural context. It can seek to separate itself from the culture in which the church is set and it can seek to transform culture, as the Barmen Declaration and the Belhar Confession did.14 It is, however, precisely in this transforming capacity that the gospel can play its affirmative role as well. Real contextuality appears whenever the gospel works like salt and leaven, not overwhelming a context, but permeating and enlivening it in distinctive ways.15 This function of the gospel might be described as a purifying function in which the critical and affirmative roles are integrated. This concept of contextuality does not need to be developed in contrast to the concept of catholicity, but rather in conformity with it. When—as stated earlier—real catholicity implies the participation of each local in the church of all places and times, catholicity is not the destruction or overwhelming of the local, but it is the local in

14 Ch. Villa-Vicencio, “Augsburg, Barmen and Ottawa,” Journal of Theology for Southern Africa (1984), No. 47, 47–58, and J.W. De Cruchy, “Barmen: Symbol of Contemporary Liberation?,” Journal of Theology for Southern Africa (1984), No. 47, 59–71. 15 A Treasure in Earthen Vessels: An instrument for an ecumenical reflection on hermeneutics (Faith and Order Paper No. 182)(Geneva: WCC, 1998), 30 (No. 44).

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communion. It can be ascribed to each local community, inasmuch as each community expresses in its faith, life, and witness this fullness that is not yet fully realized. Catholicity grows from the commitment of local churches to communion, both with other churches in the present (synchronically) and with the church throughout the ages (diachronically). Just as a contextual interpretation of the gospel does not in itself imply a legitimization of the local situation, likewise it is not by definition bound to a specific context. When, for example, an interpretation of the gospel in a particular context points to forgiveness, reconciliation, or justice, this interpretation is not just a contextual claim. It may provide an insight to be tested and amended or applied in other contexts as well. The reflections of, among others, Bonhoeffer, King, Gandhi, and Mandela on their particular contexts are instructive examples of the universalizing potentialities of many contextual situations. However, no contextual interpretation can claim to be absolute. It is catholicity that especially binds Christian communities together and that makes us aware of the possible limitations of one’s own interpretations, as well as the possible enrichments of the interpretations of others.16

The ‘Church-Dissolving’ Element within the Reformation The great need for exchange is not new within the Reformed tradition. From the very beginning, one realized that the church of Christ is greater than one’s own church, and that it is impossible to be a church isolated from other baptized believers. This awareness of the need for communion with other believers, elsewhere, in the present, and in the past, has been enhanced by the admission that the Reformed sola scriptura principle contains not only a church reforming element but also a church dissolving element. I derive the formulations, ‘church reforming’ and ‘church dissolving’ from one of the greatest thinkers of the Dutch Reformed tradition—next to Abraham Kuyper—Herman Bavinck. In his address on

16 M.E. Brinkman, “Where is Jesus ‘at home’? Hermeneutical Reflections on the Contextual Jesus,” Journal of Reformed Theology 1 (2007) 107–119.

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“The Catholicity of Christianity and the Church” of 1888, he argues that an unbridled appeal to scripture opens the way to a sectarianism in which every heretic has his own (scriptural) letter. Bavinck writes that, “in the Protestant principle [the sola scriptura principle (MEB)] there is indeed a church-dissolving element as well as a church-reforming one. The one Christian church has been fragmented into innumerable small churches, assemblies and conventicles.”17 He puts his finger on the strongly individualistic character of the Calvinist attitude towards scripture and faith, which also left its traces in the Calvinist attitude towards the church. In particular, it is this attitude towards faith that, in the field of the doctrine of the church, has been converted into a striving for the purest church, the ecclesia purissima. Therefore, my fourth thesis is: It was this very striving for an ecclesia purissima that, in spite of all honest intentions, left a trail of destruction in the Reformed churches. It demoted the church to a random group of kindred spirits, while seriously underestimating the role of the church as a mother—to use an expression from Calvin.18 The idea that the church existed a long time before us, and that she is the instrument of God’s loyalty to us through the ages was developed within the Reformed tradition in the theology of the covenant. Unfortunately, there remained an unsolved tension between the doctrine of the covenant and the doctrine of election in the Reformed tradition; too often they are considered as mutually exclusive instead of being interpreted as two equally necessary and each other requiring lines of thought in which the idea of the church as mother can play its own constitutive role.

17 In English translation the text can be found as H. Bavinck, “The Catholicity of Christianity and the Church,” Calvin Theological Journal 27 (1992) 220–251, esp. 249. See for the Dutch original text, H. Bavinck, De katholiciteit van Christendom en Kerk: Rede gehouden bij de overdracht van het rectoraat aan de Theol. School te Kampen op 18 Dec. 1888 (Kampen: Zalsman, 1888), repr. 1968 (Kok: Kampen), 38. 18 J. Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion (1559) IV, 1.4 (The Library of Christian Classics, Vol. XXI), trans. F.L. Battles, ed. J.T. MacNeill (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1961), 1016.

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As a counter-movement against a hidden sectarianism in the Reformed tradition there have been unmistakably ‘catholicizing’ tendencies as well. A good example of this is Calvin’s preface written in 1545 for his own Latin translation of the Geneva Catechism of 1542. There, Calvin writes: We should apply ourselves with all possible means so that the unity of faith, so much recommended by Paul, may again become strong among us. With a view to this goal, the solemn profession of faith (solemnis fidei professio), which is part of the common baptism, should especially be applied. It would be desirable that there be a permanent unanimity among all with respect to the doctrine of piety, and also one catechism (unam formam catechismi) for all churches.19

In the continuation of his preface, however, Calvin immediately points out that he is a realist: “For many different reasons, however, it will always remain so that each church has its own catechism. Therefore, we should not put too much pressure on it, as long as the difference in the way of education does not prevent us from thereby being led towards the one Christ.”20 It is clear from the concrete suggestions Calvin makes for preserving unity in Christ that, for Calvin, this piously formulated view of reality is not a stopgap intended to make a virtue of necessity. Thus, first of all, he considers it useful that there are public testimonies (publica testimonia) whereby churches that are geographically separated, but are uniform in doctrine and in Christ mutually acknowledge one another. Calvin points out that, for this purpose, bishops in former times used to send synodal letters. Certainly now that Christianity is suffering from such an upheaval, he considers it necessary to give each one this token of Holy Communion (sacra communio) and to accept this from each other. So, here Calvin formulates three criteria for genuine ecumenism: open and public professing, intensive correspondence, and mutual recognition. So, my fifth thesis is:

19 Calvin, Geneva Catechism (1545), Calvini Opera VI (Corpus Reformatorum, Vol. 34), 1–146, esp. 5–6. 20 Geneva Catechism, 5–6.

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From the very beginning Calvinism was fully aware of the catholic character of its own tradition. Apparently Calvin’s ecumenical disposition was well-known in Europe. Seven years later, in 1552, Thomas Cranmer, the Archbishop of Canterbury, approached Calvin with a concrete plan to arrive at a mutual recognition of confessions of faith, and thus perhaps even at a common confession of faith. Calvin was very enthusiastic in his reaction. He would be prepared, he wrote to Cranmer, “to cross ten seas” for that.21 But as a result of subsequent political developments, particularly in Germany and England, very little of the necessary legwork for the plan was carried out. In the end, the idea of a common confession of faith, at least as a harmonia confessionum, was abandoned.

The Church as Symbol The most important aspect of this effort was the intention to overcome the Protestant propensity—I am even inclined to speak of the Protestant sin—to underestimate the visibility of the church. The only adequate way to overcome that weakness, I can imagine, is to reflect more thoroughly upon the symbolic character of the church on the basis of a sound theology of the symbol. So, my sixth thesis is: To overcome its lack of a strong sense of unity, Calvinism has to more strongly stress the symbolic—and I would even say—sacramental character of the church. To speak in an adequate way of the sacramental character of the church in the Reformed tradition depends totally on our concept of the relation of Christ to his church. Only when this concept can simultaneously account for the present and the absent Christ, it might be an adequate approach because the church is not a Christus prolongatus—an extension, an prolongation, of Christ. That would mean that

21 Calvini Opera XIV (Corpus Reformatorum, Vol. 42), 306 (Cranmer’s letter) and 312–314 (Calvin’s answer).

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Christ is always automatically present in the church. That is not the case. But because the church is also not only an association of believers pointing to the heavenly Christ, it is also inadequate only to speak about the absence of Christ, far away sitting at the right hand of his father. How to avoid in our ecclesiology both a self-evident presence of Christ and a pious absence of Christ? Especially the French Reformed theologians can be of great help for us in this regard, influenced as they are by Paul Ricoeur’s ideas of what a symbol is: a place of simultaneous presence and absence.22 I found one of the best formulations of the symbolic character of the church in the document that concludes the second phase of the international Roman Catholic—Reformed dialogue entitled “Towards a Common Understanding of the Church.”23 Referring to the French speaking ecumenical dialogue group, Groupe des Dombes, the dialogue partners came to an agreement on the following text about the relation of Christ to his church: 108. As Christ’s mediation was carried out visibly in the mystery of his incarnation, life, death and resurrection, so the church has also been established as visible sign and instrument of this unique mediation across time and space. The church is an instrument in Christ’s hands because it carries out, through the preaching of the Word, the administration of the sacraments and the oversight of communities, a ministry entirely dependent on the Lord, just like a tool in the hand of a worker . . . 109. The instrumental ministry of the church is confided to sinful human beings. It can therefore be disfigured or atrophied, mishandled and exaggerated. But the reality of God’s gift always transfigures human failure, and God’s fidelity to the church continually maintains it, . . . 110. The church is thus constituted as a sacrament, an instrument of the unique mediation of Christ, a sign of the efficacious presence of that mediation. The church is such in that it lives out of the word, which has

22 P. Ricoeur, The Symbolism of Evil (New York/Evanston/London: Harper & Row,1976), 17. See the original French text in P. Ricoeur, Finitude et Cupabilité II: La symbolique du mal (Paris: Aubier, 1960), 24 where Ricoeur speaks about “la structure de la signification, qui est à la fois une fonction de l’absence et une function de la presence.” 23 J. Gross et al. (eds), Growth in Agreement II: Reports and Agreed Statements of Ecumenical Conversations on a World level, 1982–1998 (Geneva: WCC Publications, 2000), 780–818. See for a Dutch, ecumenical commentary on this text, M.E. Brinkman and H. Witte (eds), From Roots to Fruits: Protestants and Catholics Towards a Common Understanding of the Church (European Studies from the WARC 3) (Geneva: WARC, 1998, 2nd pr. 2000).

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engendered it and which it proclaims, and to the extent that it is open and docile to the Spirit that dwells within it.24

The Church as Sacrament Here the symbolic character of the church is perceived as sign and instrument. These two aspects, of being a sign and an instrument, are the main components of a sound theology of the sacrament in which the sacraments are primarily considered signs of the kingdom. It will be obvious that this way of speaking about the church as sacrament has nothing to do with its sacralization. The dialogue document stresses that “the church then is only a sacrament founded by Christ and entirely dependent on him. Its being and its sacramental acts are the fruit of a free gift received from Christ, a gift in relation to which he remains radically transcendent.”25 It reminds us not to forget “the radical difference which remains between Christ and the church” and gives as explanation of this difference that “the church is only the spouse and the body of Christ through the gift of the Holy Spirit.”26 To say it again: the church is not plainly an extension of Christ. The church is the sacrament of the Spirit of Christ. Explicitly referring to the publication of the Groupe des Dombes on the Holy Spirit, the church and the sacraments, the authors explain their use of the terms ‘sacrament’ and ‘sign’ pointing to the fact that they designate “the church at once as the place of presence and the place of distance.”27 These terms depict the church as instrument and minister of the unique mediation of Christ. Of this unique mediation, the church is the servant, but never its source or its mistress.28 Hence, the sacramentality of the church cannot be ‘guaranteed’ by ‘given’ structures like for example the so-called apostolic succession, but can only be experienced in the salvific meaning of Christ’s death and resurrection, mediated to us by the sacraments of baptism and the Lord’s supper. Those familiar with the philosophy of the Reformed French philosopher Paul Ricoeur might have heard an echo of his philosophy of 24

Gross et al. (eds), Growth in Agreement II, 804–805. Gross et al. (eds), Growth in Agreement II, 804 (No. 105). 26 Gross et al. (eds), Growth in Agreement II, 804 (No. 105). 27 Groupe des Dombes, L’Esprit Saint, l’Église et les Sacrements (Taizé: Presses de Taizé, 1979) 23–24, No. 23. 28 Gross et al. (eds), Growth in Agreement II, 804 (No. 107). 25

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the symbols in these phrases.29 Indeed, Ricoeur had—without being personally involved—a certain impact on the work of this ecumenical group. The Groupe des Dombes states that in the sacramental symbol presence and distance, and visibility and invisibility belong together.30 This speaking about the veiling und unveiling character of the symbol, transparency and hiddenness, and fullness and emptiness reminds one of Ricoeur’s discussion of the symbol, which hides what it expresses and is characterized by the movement of disclosure and disguise.31 Symbolic representation lies between commemoration of the past that is ‘lost’ and the promised future that is not yet. The same holds true for the Christian sacraments. They signify an absence, and only in that way do they evoke a presence. The signified always remains at a distance, and the difference is never overcome. The divine reality that is thus signified in one and the same moment shows itself and recedes—just as Jesus, at the moment he is recognized, disappears at Emmaus (Luke 24:31). You can never lay your hand on it and dispose of it. Especially the French Roman Catholic theologian Louis-Marie Chauvet has fruitfully applied this two-sided character of the symbol to the theology of the sacraments.32 The story of the two disciples on the road to Emmaus relates how their conversion to a presence of the risen Lord does not make his absence undone and unfelt; and it is a presence which is mediated by the reading of scripture, the breaking of bread, and the sharing of it. From the resurrection onward, this is the way Christ’s new corporal existence is experienced in the church.33 Therefore, the intention of this reference 29 Cf. for a Roman Catholic analysis of Ricoeur’s philosophy of the symbols, characterized by a strong dialectic of absence and presence, J.W. Van Den Hengel, The Home of Meaning: The Hermeneutics of the Subject of Paul Ricoeur (Washington: University Press of America, 1982), 115–128; and for a Protestant analysis, T.M. van Leeuwen, The Surplus of Meaning: Ontology and Eschatology in the Philosophy of Paul Ricoeur (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 1981), 110–133. 30 Groupe des Dombes, L’Esprit Saint, 57 (No. 85); 78 (No. 131); 25 (No. 25) and 36 (No. 42). 31 Ricoeur, L’Esprit Saint, 17. 32 L.M. Chauvet, Du Symbolique au Symbole : Essai sur le Sacrements (Rites et Symboles 9)(Paris: Cerf, 1979), 77–79 and 91–93 and Idem, Symbole et Sacrement: Une relecture sacramentelle de l’existence chrétienne (Paris: Cerf, 1988), 85–115. See on the ecumenical meaning of Chauvet’s work, A.H.C. van Eijk, “The Church as Sacrament: A Contribution to Ecumenical Understanding,” Bijdragen 48 (1987) 234–258, esp. 245–247 and 250 and Idem, “The Church: Mystery, Sacrament, Sign, Instrument, Symbolic Reality,” Bijdragen 50 (1989) 178–202, esp. 193–197. 33 Chauvet, Du Symbolique au Symbole, 87–97 and Idem, Symbole et Sacrement, 172–176.

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to the dialectic of absence and presence can never minimalize the way Christ is connected to his church. The only legitimate intention must be to emphasize the pervasiveness of the holy character of his presence: by his Spirit and never within our grasp.34 The direction in which Calvin slowly but surely eventually developed his idea of the Lord’s Supper can be instructive here. Calvin is fully aware of the above-mentioned two dimensions of symbols. They hide and reveal. Hence, they always consist of two aspects: a physical aspect, visible to our eyes, and a spiritual aspect, only revealed to those who are able to understand it.35 Wim Janse, professor of church history at the VU University Amsterdam, considers the idea of the exhibitio (presentation in the sense of the German Darbieting) to be a key concept for the understanding of Calvin’s concept of the Lord’s supper, and he circumscribes this idea as the point of intersection of Platonic—Augustinian dualism and Lutheran sacramental realism— of the invisible and the visible. “The concept of exhibitio honors the reality of the gift of grace (because of God’s promise) as well as the mystery—aspect of the Lord’s supper (because of the transcendence of grace.” The wish to maintain the duality of the reality and the transcendence of grace forms the real ground for Calvin’s rejection of both (Zwinglian) pure symbolism and (Lutheran) sacramental realism.36 This brings me to my seventh and final thesis: In accordance with its own confessional tradition Reformed theologians have to emphasize more strongly that the church is Christ’s.

34 A. van de Beek, “Credimus in Ecclesiam,” in F.M. Szilveszter (ed.), Genius Loci: In Honour of Frank Sawyer (Sárospatak: Sárospataki Református Teológiai Akadémia, 2006), 17–39, esp. 32–34. 35 Cf. Institutes, IV, XVII, 11 where Calvin insists that “the sacred mystery of the Supper consists of two things: physical signs, which, thrust before our eyes, represent to us, according to our feeble capacity, things invisible; and spiritual truth, which is at the same time represented and displaced through the symbols themselves.” 36 Cf. W. Janse, “Calvin’s Eucharistic Theology: Three Dogma-Historical Observations,” in H.J. Selderhuis (ed.), Calvinus sacrarum literarum interpres: Papers of the International Congress on Calvin Research (Reformed Historical Theology 5) (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2008), 37–69, esp. 38. He lays a strong emphasis on the ongoing development of Calvin’s insights, an observation emphatically supported by J. Davis, The Clearest Promises of God: The Development of Calvin’s Eucharistic Teaching (New York: AMS Press, 1995).

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In answer 54 the Heidelberg Catechism states that it is Christ, the Son of God, who, by his Spirit and Word, gathers, protects, and preserves the church. So, Christ’s presence is not mediated by the church. Just the opposite is the case. Through Christ’s presence the church comes into being. Reformed Christians tend to think that the church has emerged from their own response to God’s word. They easily forget that the church already existed long before they came to believe in Christ. God has been creating the church from generation to generation. It has been the sign of God’s faithfulness throughout the ages. The church is not a voluntary association called to serve the cause of Christ. Rather, it is Christ present in the world, associating us with him and his purposes. So, the church does not rest upon its members, but the members rest upon the church. The same thought was expressed by Calvin when he spoke of the church as the mother and of those who believe as her children. Reformed Christians need to learn that the church is a gift which needs to be received time and again.37 It is only possible to speak of Christ’s presence in the church when this presence is freed of every ‘unbroken’ identification between Christ and the church in advance. For the recognition of the church as the church of Christ will always have to be a matter of a recognition in the footsteps of the men of Emmaus, who show us that Christ can only be recognized where the memory of his words and his deeds are presented by the Holy Spirit in acts of explaining, preaching, sharing, and blessing. Hence, the starting point for our sacramental terminology lies in the event of the cross and resurrection and not in the incarnation. The cross and resurrection teach us, on the one hand, that Christ is never simply at our disposal, and, on the other hand, that his presence is always a concrete and disturbing experience. It is especially this view that is confirmed by the resurrection narratives and their witness to both grief over a loss (absence) and rejoicing over a new experience of presence that points to the sacraments of baptism and the Lord’s supper. Therefore, every pointer to the church as sacrament by no means prejudices the irreplaceable work of Christ. Just the opposite, it can only be derived from the sacraments of baptism and the Lord’s supper as ‘summaries’ of Christ’s work.

37 L. Vischer, “Witnessing in Unity,” in Mission in Unity: Towards Deeper Communion Between Reformed Churches Worldwide (John Knox Series 8) (Geneva: International Reformed Center John Knox, 1993), 3–14, esp. 8–9.

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When, however, that is the case, no ecclesiology and certainly not a Reformed ecclesiology could deny Christ’s salvific presence in the church. And that would mean—to quote the Confessio Belgica—that he will be the eternal king of the church who cannot be without servants (Art. 27). So, it is he and not us who brings us together in his house, not ours. And his house is as the waiting room for the coming kingdom. Not only the sacraments of baptism and Lord’s supper, but also the church as sacrament must always be perceived as a sign of the kingdom—as a symbol pointing beyond itself. So, there is indeed a ‘costly unity’ between the church’s sacramental and ethical orientations. The church shares in its sacrament of the Lord’s supper the real bread of life.38

38 Cf. M.E. Brinkman, “Sacraments and Ethics,” in Idem, Sacraments of Freedom. Ecumenical Essays on Creation and Sacrament—Justification and Freedom (IIMO Research Publication 48) (Zoetermeer: Meinema, 1999), 91–100; G. Vandervelde, “Koinonia between Church and World,” Exchange 26 (1997) 2–39 and Idem, “Costly Communion: Mission between Ecclesiology and Ethics,” The Ecumenical Review 49 (1997) 46–60.

LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS

Abraham van de Beek, Professor in Systematic Theology at VU University Amsterdam and at the University of Stellenbosch, and previously in Leiden. He has a doctor’s degree in the natural sciences (1974) and in theology (1980). Henk van den Belt, Ph.D. (2006) in theology, Leiden University, Assistant Professor of Reformed Theology, Utrecht University and staff member of the IRTI, VU University Amsterdam. He has published on the authority of scripture and on the theology of Herman Bavinck. Dora Bernhardt, ThM (2003) Regent College, Ph.D. student at the VU Amsterdam, teaches at the English Department of the Karoli Gaspar University of the Reformed Church, Budapest, Hungary. Her research and publications are in the area of theology and culture, especially the relationship between orality-literacy studies and theology. Lyle D. Bierma, Ph.D. (1980), is Jean and Kenneth Baker Professor of Systematic Theology at Calvin Theological Seminary in Grand Rapids, Michigan. He has published on early Reformed covenant theology and on the history and theology of the Heidelberg Catechism. Eduardus Van der Borght, Ph.D. (2000) in Theology, Leiden University, is Desmond Tutu Professor and Associate Professor of Systematic Theology at VU University Amsterdam. He has published on theology of ministry, ecclesiology and public theology. Gijsbert van den Brink, Ph.D. (1993), Utrecht University, is Professor in the History of Reformed Protestantism at Leiden University and senior lecturer in systematic theology at the VU University, Amsterdam. Among other things, he published on the doctrine of God and the doctrine of the Trinity. Martien E. Brinkman (1950) is professor of ecumenical/intercultural theology and director of the International Reformed Theological Institute at the VU University, Amsterdam. He published Progress in

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Unity? Fifty Years of Theology within the World Council of Churches: 1945–1995: A Study Guide. Jeffrey Gros is distinguished professor of ecumenical and historical theology at Memphis Theological Seminary of the Cumberland Presbyterian Church. He served as Director of Faith and Order for the National Council of Churches (USA) and Associate Director for the (Catholic) Bishops’ Committee for Ecumenical and Interreligious Affairs, as well as publishing several volumes of US and international ecumenical documents. Alasdair Heron (1942) was from 1981 to 2007 Professor Ordinarius für Reformierte Theologie at the University of Erlangen, Germany. He has published widely on historical and dogmatic theology, most recently particularly on John Calvin. I. John Hesselink, Dr. Theol. Basel (1961) is professor of theology emeritus at Western Theological Seminary, Holland, Michigan, and its former president. He was a missionary of the Reformed Church in America in Japan (1953–73) where he taught theology at Tokyo Union Seminary. Wim Janse, Ph.D. 1994, is Professor of Church History and Dean of the Faculty of Theology at VU University Amsterdam, Editor-in-Chief of Church History and Religious Culture and Brill’s Series in Church History, and Director of the Calvin Correspondence Edition Project. Allan Janssen, Ph.D. (2005), Vrije Universiteit, Assistant Professor of Theological Studies, New Brunswick Theological Seminary and pastor of the Community Church of Glen Rock, New Jersey. Among his books is Kingdom, Office and Church: A Study of A.A. van Ruler’s Doctrine of Ecclesiastical Office. Leo J. Koffeman, Ph.D. 1986, is a minister of the Protestant Church in the Netherlands. He serves as Professor of Church Law and Ecumenism at the Protestant Theological University, Utrecht, the Netherlands, and is Professor Extraordinary of Systematic Theology and Ecclesiology, University of Stellenbosch, South Africa.

list of contributors

347

Seung-Goo Lee, Ph.D. (1990) in theology, The University of St. Andrews, UK, is Professor of Systematic Theology at Hapdong Theological Seminary, Korea. He has published extensively on theology including Kierkegaard on Becoming and Being a Christian (Meinema, 2006) and “The Relationship between the Ontoligical Trinity and the Economic Trinity,” Journal of Reformed Theology 3/1 (2009). Annette Mosher is Director of International Students, Faculty of Theology/Philosophy, VU University Amsterdam and Managing Editor of the Journal of Reformed Theology. She has published on fundamentalism, evil, and Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Christiaan Mostert, Ph.D. (1996) in Theology, University of Sydney, is Professor of Systematic Theology at the Uniting Church Theological College, Melbourne and teaches in the United Faculty of Theology. He has published on the theology of Wolfhart Pannenberg and on eschatology and ecclesiology. Setri Nyomi is a Presbyterian minister from Ghana. He is the General Secretary of the World Alliance of Reformed Churches—the first non European to serve in this position. Alan P.F. Sell, Ordained philosopher-theologian and ecumenist. Ph.D. (1967); DD (1998); DLitt (2006); FRHistS; four honorary doctorates. Author of twenty-five books on philosophico-theological relations, apologetics, doctrine, Reformed and Dissenting thought, ecumenical theology. Former Theological Secretary, WARC. Dirkie Smit, M.A. (Philosophy), D.Th. (Doctrinal Theology, 1979), Stellenbosch University, is Professor of Systematic Theology at Stellenbosch University, South Africa. He has published extensively on doctrine and ethics, including a series of Collected Essays (Sun Press, since 2007). Juhász Tamás, Ph.D. (1983) is Professor in Systematic Theology at the Protestant Theological Seminary in Cluj/Kolozsvár, Romania. He has published on the theology of Reformed confessions and ecclesiology. Philippe Theron, D.D. (1976) in Systematic Theology, University of Pretoria, is Professor emeritus at the University of Stellenbosch, South

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Africa. His publications deal predominantly with Reformed Soteriology and Ecclesiology especially within the (post)apartheid context. Lukas Vischer (1926–2008), Ph.D., Swiss Reformed Theologian who served as director of Faith and Order between 1966 and 1979 and as moderator of the Theological Department of the World Alliance of Reformed Churches between 1982 and 1989 devoted his life to the Unity of the church. This volume is dedicated to his memory. Paul Wells, Th.D. Vrije Universiteit (1980) is Professor of Systematic Theology at the Faculté libre de théologie réformée in Aix-en-Provence, France. He has published a new edition of Calvin’s Institution de la réligion chrétienne in modern French (Kerygma/Excelisis, 2009). J.H. (Amie) van Wyk, Th.D. in Theology, Potchefstroom University for CHE (now North-West University), South Africa, is emeritus professor of this university. He has published extensively on ethics, ecclesiology, and kingdom theology. He is at present busy with research work on the ethics of Augustine.

INDEX Accountable 226, 227, 229 Anticipation 295, 302f, 305 Apartheid 268–274, 281 Augsburg Confession 97 Authorial intention of the scriptures 106, 107, 110 Baptism 123–25, 129–32, 135, 315, 316, 324 Barmen Declaration 102 Belgic Confession 123–26, 130, 157, 161, 163 Believers’ church 314, 315, 323 Bishop 320 Body of Christ 249, 253, 256–259, 265 Bonhoeffer 283–291 Calvin, J. 109, 110, 111 Canons of Dordt 157, 161, 162, 163 Catholicity 332–336 Church and state 49 Church community 285–289, 291 Church membership 174–9 Church order/discipline 97–98, 157, 159, 161, 162, 163, 164, 166, Ch. 12 Church privilegization 41–42 Collective person 283–285, 287, 288 Communio(n), community (see also Koinonia) 295f, 300, 304f Confessionalization 33, 34–36, 42 Confessions 329, 330, 331 Congregation(s) 157–161, 163–166 Congregationalism 98, 99, Ch. 12 Context(ual) 328, 329, 333 Covenant 324, 325 Cross (justification, judgment) 267, 273–275, 277–280 cuius regio eius religio formula 34, 39 Dale, R. W. 171, 172, 180, 181, 182 Declaration of Barmen 161, 162, 164 Dialectical Theology 102 Dialogue 211, 222 Diversity 212–214, 219, 221 Doctrinal purity 22–3 Doctrine 179–82

Ecclesiology 33, 34, 40, 42, 97–103, 157, 164, 249 – Eastern Orthodox 319–323 – Free church 314–318 – Reformed 226, 323, 324 – Roman Catholic 318, 319 Ecumenicity 35 Ecumenism 38–41 Episcopacy 98–99 Episcope 232, 240 Eschatology 295, 302f, 305 Ethnic Churches 31 Formal Principle: Biblical Theological Hermeneutic 105 Freedom 26–8 French Confession 97 Heidelberg Catechism 124, 127, 130, 132–35, 157, 161 Hierarchy 233–4 233–4 Historical/dogmatic perspective 97–103 Invisible Church Koinonia

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295ff, 300ff

Language (about God) 299f Leuenberg Agreement 161, 162, 163, 164 Liberal Theology 102 Lord’s Supper 123–30, 132–35 Lutheranism 97, 98 Marks of the true church 124–26 Material Principle: Justification by Faith Alone 108 Mediator 311 Migration 24–5 Missionary movement 24 Models 307 Morality 182–3, 184 New creation

267, 269, 280

Ordained ministry 231–41 Owen, John 173–4, 175

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Parallel coexistence 43, 45, 47, 49 Perichoresis 310 Prayer 33 Presbyterianism 98–99 Presbyterians 171, 172 Protestant Church in the Netherlands 157, 158, 160, 161, 162, 164, 165, 166, 168 Reception 211–216, 222 Reconciliation 44, 45, 46, 48, 49, 50, 267–275, 277–280 Reformed League (Gereformeerde Bond) 158, 159, 160, 164, 165 Restored Reformed Church (Hersteld Hervormde Kerk) 157, 160, 162, 163, 164, 165, 166 Roman Catholicism 100 Sacrament(s) 123–26, 128–30, 132–35, 337–343 Scots Confession 97 Separatists 169–70 Sin (of the church) 221f sola scriptura, tota scripture 105, 107, 108 Solidarity 43 Spiritual presence 260–1

State 33–37, 42 Swiss Reformation

98

Territorialism 33, 34, 36–38 The pure preaching of the pure Word of God 105f, 109, 111 Theological seminaries 31–2 Tolerance 34, 39, 41–42, 47, 50 Tradition 233–5 Trinity 296–8, 301–5, 309, 313–325 Truth 22–3 Unity of God 250, 251, 266 Unity of the church 33, 40, 123–35, 212–216, 218–222, 223–230, 249, 260, 261, 268, 269, 277, 279–281, 283, 284, 286, 288, 289, 291, 293–6, 301–4, 307ss, 327, 336, 337 – Forms of Unity 157, 159, 161, 163, 165, 167, 168 – Instrument of Unity 237 – Symbol of Unity 237–9 Universality 33 Visible Church

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Witness in society

23