The Covenant of Redemption: Origins, Development, and Reception [1 ed.] 9783666550980, 9783525550984

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Reformed Historical Theology Edited by Herman J. Selderhuis in Co-operation with Emidio Campi, Irene Dingel, Elsie Anne McKee, Richard Muller, Risto Saarinen, and Carl Trueman

Volume 35

J. V. Fesko

The Covenant of Redemption Origins, Development, and Reception

Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht

Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data available online: http://dnb.dnb.de. ISSN 2197-1137 ISBN 978-3-666-55098-0 You can find alternative editions of this book and additional material on our Website: www.v-r.de © 2016, Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht GmbH & Co. KG, Theaterstraße 13, 37073 Göttingen/ Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht LLC, Bristol, CT, U.S.A. www.v-r.de All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission from the publisher. Typesetting by Konrad Triltsch GmbH, Ochsenfurt

Contents

Abbreviations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Acknowledgements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Introduction . . . . . . . . . State of the Question . . . Argument for retrieval . . Aim of the present study Plan for the present study Conclusion . . . . . . . .

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15 16 22 24 25 28

1. Historical Origins . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.1 Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.2 David Dickson’s speech . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.3 Herman Witsius and the sources of the pactum salutis 1.4 Early references to an intra-trinitarian covenant . . . 1.5 A key exegetical turning point . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.6 The doctrine’s birth and refinement . . . . . . . . . . 1.7 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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29 29 30 32 36 39 41 45

2. Seventeenth-Century England and Scotland . . . . . . . . . . 2.1 Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.2 Definition of a covenant . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.3 The pactum salutis and its scriptural support . . . . . . . 2.4 The specific properties and elements of the pactum salutis 2.4.1 Elements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.4.2 Properties . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.5 Critical issues . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Contents

2.5.1 The role of the Holy Spirit . . . . . . 2.5.2 Pactum salutis or covenant of grace? 2.5.3 Motivated by love . . . . . . . . . . 2.5.4 Pactum and revelation . . . . . . . . 2.5.5 Incarnation, union, and communion 2.5.6 Justification and imputation . . . . . 2.6 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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61 68 72 73 74 75 81

3. Seventeenth-Century Continental Europe 3.1 Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.2 Exegesis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.3 Pactum salutis defined and explained 3.4 Critical Issues . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.4.1 Christ’s merit and reward . . . . 3.4.2 Covenant terminology . . . . . . 3.4.3 Fideiussor or Expromisso? . . . . 3.4.4 Active and passive justification . 3.5 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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83 83 84 89 93 93 97 99 104 107

4. The Eighteenth Century . . . . . . . 4.1 Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . 4.2 John Gill . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.2.1 Structure of the covenant . 4.2.2 The role of the Holy Spirit . 4.2.3 The doctrine of justification 4.3 Jonathan Edwards . . . . . . . . 4.3.1 Pactum salutis . . . . . . . 4.3.2 Justification . . . . . . . . . 4.4 Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.5 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . .

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109 109 110 111 113 117 122 122 127 139 143

5. The Nineteenth Century . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.1 Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.2 The Intellectual Context . . . . . . . . . . 5.3 Hodge on the pactum salutis . . . . . . . 5.4 Epistemology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.5 Justification and Soteriology . . . . . . . 5.5.1 Union with Christ . . . . . . . . . . 5.5.2 The timing of justification . . . . . . 5.5.3 Justification and the final judgment

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145 145 146 149 154 159 159 161 163

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Contents

5.5.4 Faith as the instrument of justification . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.6 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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171 171 172 173 178 182 184 187 187 198 203

7. Twentieth-Century Proponents . . . . . . . . . . . 7.1 Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.2 Proponents of the pactum salutis . . . . . . . . 7.2.1 Vos, Kuyper, and Bavinck . . . . . . . . . 7.2.2 Berkhof and Berkouwer . . . . . . . . . . 7.3 Critical Issues . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.3.1 The ordo salutis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.3.2 Priority of the forensic in the ordo salutis 7.3.3 Justification from eternity . . . . . . . . . 7.4 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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205 205 206 206 215 219 219 222 227 229

Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Primary Sources . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Secondary Sources . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

235 235 244

Author Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

253

6. Twentieth-Century Critics . . . 6.1 Introduction . . . . . . . . 6.2 Critics of the pactum salutis 6.2.1 John Murray . . . . . 6.2.2 Herman Hoeksema . . 6.2.3 Klaas Schilder . . . . . 6.2.4 Karl Barth . . . . . . . 6.3 Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . 6.3.1 Anti-Scholasticism . . 6.3.2 Solus Calvinus . . . . 6.4 Conclusion . . . . . . . . .

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Abbreviations

aphr. ca. CH comm. CTJ CTS CTQ DLGTT ET fl. fol. HTR lect. LW MAJT misc. NICNT NT NPNF OT prop. PRJ PRRD q., qq. r rep. SCJ serm. SJT

aphorism circa Church History comments on Calvin Theological Journal Calvin Translation Society Concordia Theological Quarterly Muller, Dictionary of Latin and Greek Theological Terms English Translation flourished folio Harvard Theological Review lecture Luther’s Works Mid-America Journal of Theology Miscellany New International Commentary on the New Testament New Testament Nicene Post-Nicent Fathers Old Testament proposition Puritan Reformed Journal Muller, Post-Reformation Reformed Dogmatics question(s) recto reprint Sixteenth Century Journal sermon Scottish Journal of Theology

10 s.v. TrinJ v WCF WJE

Abbreviations

sub verbum Trinity Journal verso Westminster Confession of Faith Works of Jonathan Edwards

Acknowledgements

Investment is not a word restricted to finance but carries a world of significance for academic study and life in general. Numerous people have invested in me so that I would be able to write this little book. I am grateful for my institution, Westminster Seminary California, in Escondido, California, to the trustees, president, and faculty, for approving a sabbatical durning 2013–14 academic year, which enabled me to complete a draft of this project. I am especially thankful as this was my first extended break in fifteen years of ministry, one that allowed me to focus my efforts on research and writing. I give thanks to many colleagues who read earlier drafts of this book including, John Webster, Mike Allen, Laurence O’Donnell, Matthew Barrett, and Ryan McGraw. I am very indebted to these men for their willingness to read through the book and offer helpful comments and feedback. I am also appreciative to the students in the Warfield Seminars where I presented a few chapters as well as my elective on the Covenant of Redemption that I taught in the Fall of 2014. Thank you for your engagement and helpful questions. Thanks to Maarten Kuivenhoven for checking a few of my Dutch translations of Vos’s Compendium. I owe thanks to several others. David VanDrunen, my colleague here at Westminster, carefully read my manuscript and offered numerous comments and helpful criticisms. Brian Hecker, a Westminster alumnus, also proved to be a helpful sounding board. Thank you, Brian, for your willingness to proofread the typeset manuscript prior to submission. In some sense, you are to blame for this book! If you had not mentioned the covenant of redemption as it relates to the processions and missions that day at lunch, I might not have had the intellectual shove to look more closely at this subject. Thank you Herman Selerhuis for considering my manuscript for the RHT series. I also owe thanks to Richard Muller. He read my manuscript and provided helpful feedback. Credit goes to Christoph Spill and Elke Liebig at V & R, for their assistance in seeing this project through to publication. Thanks to all of you. You have taken the time to invest in my life and in this project, and I am the better for it.

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Acknowledgements

As important as colleagues and students are to the writing process, I also give thanks to my family, Anneke, wife of my not-so-youth, Val and Rob, my two lads, and Carmen Penelope, my spitfire of a daughter. You, my family, have been a great source of encouragement and love. You keep me grounded and remind me that all of my academic labors should serve the needs of the church. Your sacrificial investment of letting me work at times when it would be more fun to do other things has allowed me to learn much, and I pray, assist the church, if only a little, in understanding the doctrine of the covenant of redemption. I am grateful to my covenant surety, Jesus Christ, the last Adam, who has blessed me beyond measure. You have poured out your love, redeemed, and undeservedly provided me with much. One of the biggest blessings in my life has been my parents, Lee and Eren Fesko. Through their sacrifice, love, guidance, and correction, you, Lord, have made a tremendous investment in my life. You have given me a father who loved me, made me laugh, and taught me the importance of humility. You, Lord, have given me a mother who loved, sacrificed, taught me about important things like honor and integrity, and encouraged me to pursue big dreams. Thank you for my parents, Lord. Both of you, Mom and Dad, have always sought to point me to Christ, and for this, I am forever grateful. I only pray that, by God’s grace, these things continue to grow and accure “interest,” and that I can pass them on to my own children. It is to you, Mom and Dad, that I dedicate this book. Thank you for all you have done and continue to do—for your love, care, prayers, and support. SDG.

Preface

I can remember the first time I ever read about the doctrine of the covenant of redemption. I was immediately struck by the fact that it seemed a bit speculative. The book I was reading simply mentioned the existence of the covenant and moved on. In the author’s mind, the doctrine was a settled fact, but it was anything but settled for me. Needless to say, I was still a theological neophyte and had much to learn about theology, church history, and most importantly, exegesis. The more I studied, I realized that the theological universe was a lot larger than I had originally imagined. As I learned more, I examined the exegetical footing for the covenant of redemption and concluded it was sound. I embraced the doctrine because I believed it was true, but at the same time I was unaware of its history. In my historical research I regularly ran into the doctrine, different formulations, as well as variegated exegetical strategies to support it. The covenant of redemption was a common staple in Early Modern Reformed theology, but as I surfaced from the historical depths I found that the contemporary reception of the doctrine was quite hostile. Accusations of speculation, poor exegesis, no exegesis, proof-texting, sub-trinitarianism, cold-hearted transaction, and the like swirled about this once revered dogma. I also noticed that there were few published resources to aid those interested in studying it. There were numerous treatments of the covenant of redemption scattered throughout various theological works but only a handful of secondary sources. My desire, therefore, was to study the history of the doctrine for my own personal instruction. I wanted to see for myself whether the common accusations against the doctrine were true and learn from some of the church’s best minds on one of the more complex theological subjects. I also sought to provide a resource for the church so that theological archaeologists, professional and novice alike, could unearth the riches of the Early Modern Reformed doctrine of the covenant of redemption. Given the paucity of sources on this doctrine, I hope to shed a little light on the subject so that others may undertake their own studies of the covenant of redemption.

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Preface

All translations of foreign language sources are my own unless otherwise noted. I have left archaic English spellings in quotations intact. In a few places I offer my own translation of the biblical text, which I indicate in the footnote. Otherwise, I either quote the English Standard Version or the version cited in an author’s work. And all confessional and catechism quotes come from Pelikan and Hotchkiss’s Creeds and Confessions of Faith in the Christian Tradition, unless otherwise noted.

Introduction

“All talk of God is hazardous,” writes John Webster.1 Any time a theologian takes up his pen to write about God, there is the danger that he will misunderstand, misrepresent, or misstate the truth about who God is and what he has done. In the wake of the Enlightenment, theologians largely became reserved about their theological claims, and this reticence has only been intensified with the onset of postmodernity. Theologians have become suspicious of grand meta-narratives and attempts to assert anything definitive about God. These days, the greater part of theology is holding one’s convictions loosely and tentatively, given that no one can or should claim definitively to know God. Such a context sets a significant uphill battle for the subject matter of this present study, namely: the pactum salutis, or covenant of redemption. The pactum salutis (also consilum pacis, “council of peace”) is the eternal intra-trinitarian covenant to appoint the Son as covenant surety of the elect and to redeem them in the temporal execution of the covenant of grace. The pactum salutis rests in the cradle of the federal theology of the Reformed tradition, one that posits a covenant of works between God and man in the pre-fall state, and then subsequently a covenant of grace between God and the elect but fallen sinner.2 At first glance, to posit such a covenant perhaps elicits responses not unlike the notoriously common and ancient question, “What was God doing before he made heaven and earth?” St. Augustine (354–430) notes that this question was 1 John Webster, “Theologies of Retrieval,” in The Oxford Handbook of Systematic Theology, ed. John Webster / Kathryn Tanner / Iain Torrance (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 596. 2 Classic formulation of covenant theology appears in confessional form in WCF VII and in the following historical expositions: Thomas Boston, Marrow of Modern Divinity; the first part, touching both the covenant of works, and the covenant of grace (Edinburgh: R. Drummond, 1745); William Strong, A Discourse of the Two Covenants: Wherein the Nature, Differences, and Effects of the Covenant of Works and of Grace are Distinctly, Rationally, Spiritually and Practically Discussed (London: J. M. 1678); Francis Roberts, Mysterium & Medulla Bibliorum. The Mysterie and Marrow of the Bible. Vis. God’s Covenants With man (London: R. W., 1657); Herman Witsius, Economy of the Covenants Between God and Man (Escondido: Den Dulk Foundation, 1992).

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Introduction

often answered, “He was preparing hell for people who inquire into profundities.” Augustine was willing to laugh at such rapier-like wit, but also recognized the legitimate question and preferred to answer, “I am ignorant of what I do not know.” He chose to admit his ignorance rather than ridicule someone who asked a penetrating and sincere question.3 Augustine’s reply was one of informed ignorance, which is a likely response from many in the church. How can human beings possibly know what God was doing before the creation of the world, let alone pontificate upon the particulars of an eternal intra-trinitarian covenant? If past generations were unrestrained in their theology and speculatively peered into things for which they had no right or ability to see, then principled ignorance or even stern rebuke for the curious is certainly in order. On the other hand, it is more likely that theologians in the past were reflecting upon scriptural texts and wrestling with how to assemble the seemingly disparate pieces of the puzzle into a coherent picture. In such a context perhaps the question of the viability and legitimacy of the doctrine of the pactum salutis deserves careful study and reflection. What are we to make, for example, of Christ’s statement to his disciples: “I covenant to you, as my Father covenanted to me, a kingdom” (Luke 22:29)? 4 Far from wandering too deep into the ineffable and blinding light that emanates from the glory of the triune God, if God has revealed that the trinity covenantally willed to redeem fallen and sinful people, then it behooves the church to explore, define, and press this scriptural teaching into service.

State of the Question But what is the present state of the doctrine? How has the doctrine been employed and received in the history of the Reformed church. The doctrine arose in the early seventeenth century and appeared in the disputations of Jacob Arminius (1560–1609), though there were earlier theologians who employed the idea, such as Caspar Olevianus (1536–87).5 But it was an oration by David Dickson (1583–1662) at the 1638 General Assembly of the Scottish Kirk where the doctrine 3 St. Augustine, Confessions, trans. Henry Chadwick (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991), XI. xii.14. 4 Translation mine. Note, this is not a common sixteenth-century translation of this verse. The King James and Geneva Bibles employ the term appoint rather than covenant. Both Theodore Beza and Johannes Piscator, nevertheless, translated the Greek text and employed the Latin term for covenant. 5 Jacob Arminius, “The Priesthood of Christ,” in The Works of James Arminius, 3 vols. (1825–75; Grand Rapids: Baker, 1996), I:416. On Olevianus, see Lyle D. Bierma, German Calvinism in the Confessional Age: The Covenant Theology of Caspar Olevianus (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1996), 107–12.

State of the Question

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was explained in greater detail.6 By the end of the seventeenth-century the doctrine was widespread and found advocates in every quarter of the Reformed world, such as John Owen (1616–83), Patrick Gillespie (1617–75), Francis Turretin (1623–87), Johannes Cocceius (1603–69), and Herman Witsius (1636– 1708).7 The doctrine appeared in the Sum of Saving Knowledge (1649), written by Dickson and James Durham (1622–58), and was bound with published copies of the Westminster Standards.8 The doctrine was codified in the Congregational Savoy Declaration (1658) and the Particular Baptist Second London Confession (1689).9 Although widespread, the doctrine was not universally accepted. There were some seventeenth-century theologians who believed that the distinction between the covenants of redemption and grace was unnecessary. They maintained that the covenant of grace had its roots in eternity, and the intra-trinitarian agreement was simply the eternal pole of the covenant of grace. Particular Baptist theologians such as Benjamin Keach (1640) in the seventeenth-century and John Gill (1697–1771) in the eighteenth-century advocated such a view.10 Reformed theologians such as Thomas Boston (1676–1732) promoted a similar view.11 Despite some dissent, the pactum was nevertheless accepted among eighteenth- and nineteenth-century Reformed theologians, such as Jonathan Edwards (1703–58)

6 David Dickson, “Arminianism Discussed,” in Records of the Kirk of Scotland, containing the Acts and Proceedings of the General Assemblies, from the Year 1638 Downwards, ed. Alexander Peterkin (Edinburgh: Peter Brown, 1845), 158–59. 7 John Owen, “Exercitation XXVIII: Federal Transactions Between the Father and the Son,” in The Works of John Owen, vol. 19, ed. William H. Goold (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1862), 77–97; Patrick Gillespie, The Ark of the Covenant Opened, or, A Treatise of the Covenant of Redemption (London: Tho. Parkhurst, 1677); Francis Turretin, Institutes of Elenctic Theology, 3 vols., trans. George Musgrave Giger, ed. James T. Dennison, Jr. (Phillipsburg: P & R, 1992–97), XII.ii.13–19; Johannes Cocceius, Summa Doctrinae de Foedere et Testamento Dei, in Opera Omnia theologica, exegetica, didactica, polemica, philologica, vol. 7 (Amsterdam: 1701), XIV. xxxiv.2 (p. 238); Witsius, Economy, II.ii.1–16. 8 See, e. g., The Confession of Faith, the Larger and Shorter Catechisms, with the Scripture-proofs at Large: Together with the Sum of Saving Knowledge … Covenants, National and Solemn League; Acknowledgement of Sins, and Engagement to Duties; Directories for Publick and Family Worship; Form of Church-Government … (Belfast: James Blow, 1729); Westminster Confession of Faith (Glasgow: Free Presbyterian Publications, 1995), Head II, 321–26. 9 The Savoy Declaration, VIII.i; and A Confession of Faith, Put forth by the Elders and Brethren Of many Congregations of Christians, (Baptized upon Profession of their Faith) in London and the Country. With an Appendix concerning Baptism (London: John Harris, 1688), VIII.i. 10 Benjamin Keach, The Everlasting Covenant, A Sweet Cordial for a Drooping Soul: Or, The Excellent Nature of the Covenant of Grace Opened (London: 1693), 18; John Gill, A Complete Body of Doctrinal and Practical Divinity: or A System of Evangelical Truths (1809; Paris, AR: The Baptist Standard Bearer, Inc., 2007), II.vi–vii (pp. 211–17). 11 Thomas Boston, Body of Divinity, in The Complete Works of the Late Rev. Thomas Boston, vol. 1 (1853; Stoke-on-Trent: Tentmaker Publications, 2002), 333.

18

Introduction

and Charles Hodge (1797–1878).12 By the nineteenth-century theologians in some contexts believed that the doctrine had all but vanished. Such was the opinion of the Scottish Presbyterian theologian Robert Shaw (1795–1863).13 On the other hand, Geerhardus Vos (1862–1949) initially demurred from the doctrine; he took a view similar to Boston’s and one of his Princeton predecessors, A. A. Hodge (1823–86), and was quickly criticized for his perceived heterodox novelty.14 Given the heat, Vos retreated from his view to articulate the pactum salutis as distinct from the covenant of grace. In the early twentieth century the doctrine had other proponents, such as Abraham Kuyper (1837–1920), Herman Bavinck (1854–1921), Geerhardus Vos (1862–1949), Louis Berkhof (1873–1957), and G. C. Berkouwer (1903–96).15 But there were a number of detractors. Karl Barth (1886–1968) is famous for his characterization of the doctrine as “pure mythology”.16 Herman Hoeksema (1886–1965), Klaas Schilder (1890–1952), and John Murray (1898–1975) also objected to the doctrine as it was commonly formulated.17 A common criticism was that theologians extracted the doctrine largely from one text, namely, Zechariah 6:13, “And there shall be a priest on his throne, and the counsel of peace shall be between the both.” Schilder, for example, said the doctrine was an instance of “scholastic tinkering”.18 The reception of the doctrine in the present day follows a similar pattern found in the early twentieth-century. Proponents include R. Scott Clark and David VanDrunen of Westminster Seminary California, who published an essay 12 Jonathan Edwards, Misc. 1062, “Economy of the Trinity and Covenant of Redemption,” in The Works of Jonathan Edwards: The “Miscellanies” (Entry Nos. 833–1152), vol. 20, ed. Amy Plantinga Pauw (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2002), 430–43; Charles Hodge, Systematic Theology, 3 vols. (rep.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993), II:354–62. 13 Robert Shaw, An Exposition of the Westminster Confession of Faith (1845; Fearn: Christian Focus, 1998), 127. 14 Cf. Geerhardus Vos, “To B. B. Warfield, 7 July 1891,” in The Letters of Geerhardus Vos, ed. James T. Dennison, Jr. (Phillipsburg: P & R, 2005), 160–64; A. A. Hodge, Outlines of Theology (1860; Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1991), 369–70. 15 Abraham Kuyper, Dictaten Dogmatiek: collegedictaat van een der studenten, vol. 3, Locus de Providentia, Peccato, Foedere, Christo, 2nd ed. (Kampen: Stoomdrukkerij van J. H. Kok, n. d.), § V, 90; Herman Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, 4 vols., trans. John Vriend, ed. John Bolt (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2005–09), III:212–16; Louis Berkhof, Systematic Theology: New Combined Edition (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996), 265–71; G. C. Berkouwer, Divine Election (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1960), 163–71. 16 Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, 14 vols., eds. G. W. Bromiley, T. F. Torrance (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1936–68), IV/1:65; 17 Klaas Schilder, Heidelbergsche Catechismus, 3 vols. (Goes: Oosterbaan & Le Cointre, 1947– 51), I:382–83; Herman Hoeksema, Reformed Dogmatics (1963; Grand Rapids: Reformed Free Publishing Association, 1985), 285–336; John Murray, “Covenant Theology,” in Collected Writings of John Murray, vol. 4, Studies in Theology (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1982), 216– 40, esp. 234–38. 18 Schilder, Heidelbergsche Catechismus, I:383.

State of the Question

19

on the history and theology of the doctrine.19 Others have offered historical theological surveys of the doctrine. Most notably, Richard A. Muller has published a survey of the origins and development of the doctrine, and a small handful of historical-theological essays cover the views of Gillespie, Witsius, Bavinck, and Robert Rollock (1555–99).20 Theologians also continue to critique the doctrine; Robert Letham, for example, argues that the doctrine is inherently “sub-trinitarian”.21 In a similar vein, though with greater rhetorical flair, Cornelius Plantinga contends that the pactum is a “grotesque” and “barbaric idea” where “a merciful Son volunteers to bear our stripes in order to placate a vengeful Father, thus effecting a catharsis and an Umstimmung in the Father.”22 Other theologians positively mention the doctrine and sometimes offer brief exposition but do not provide large-scale treatment of it, including Michael Horton, John Frame, Scott Oliphint, J. van Genderen, W. H. Velema, Wayne Grudem, Peter J. Gentry, Stephen J. Wellum, Kevin Vanhoozer, and John Webster.23 19 R. Scott Clark and David VanDrunen, “The Covenant Before the Covenants,” in Covenant, Justification, and Pastoral Ministry: Essays by the Faculty of Westminster Seminary California, ed. R. Scott Clark (Phillipsburg: P & R, 2007), 167–96. 20 Richard A. Muller, “Toward the Pactum Salutis: Locating the Origins of a Concept,” MAJT 18 (2007): 11–65; Carl Trueman, “The Harvest of Reformation Mythology? Patrick Gillespie and the Covenant of Redemption,” in Scholasticism Reformed: Essays in Honour of Willem J. Van Asselt, ed. Maarten Wisse / Marcel Sarot / Willemein Otten (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 196–214; Laurence O’Donnell, “The Holy Spirit’s Role in John Owen’s ‘Covenant of the Mediator’ Formulation: A Case Study in Reformed Orthodox Formulations of the Pactum Salutis,” PRJ 4/1 (2012): 91–134; idem, “Not Subtle Enough: An Assessment of Modern Scholarship on Herman Bavinck’s Reformulation of the Pactum Salutis Contra ‘Scholastic Subtlety,’” MAJT 22 (2011): 89–106; Mark Jones, “Covenant and Christology: Herman Bavinck and the Pactum Salutis,” in Five Studies in the Thought of Herman Bavinck, A Creator of Modern Dutch Theology, ed. John Bolt (Lewiston: Edwin Mellen Press, 2011), 129–52; J. Mark Beach, “The Doctrine of the Pactum Salutis in the Covenant Theology of Herman Witsius,” MAJT (2002): 101–42; Brannon Ellis, “The Eternal Decree in the Incarnate Son: Robert Rollock on the Relationship Between Christ and Election,” in Reformed Orthodox in Scotland: Essays on Scottish Theology 1560–1775 (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 2015), 45–66. 21 Robert Letham, “John Owen’s Doctrine of the Trinity in its Catholic Context,” in The Ashgate Research Companion to John Owen’s Theology, ed. Kelly M. Kapic / Mark Jones (Farnham: Ashgate, 2012), 196; idem, The Westminster Assembly: Reading Its Theology in Historical Context (Phillipsburg: P & R, 2009), 235–37; cf. idem, The Work of Christ (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1993), 52–53, 254 n. 34. 22 Cornelius Plantinga Jr., “The Threeness/Oneness Problem of the Trinity,” CTJ 23/1 (1988): 37–38. 23 Michael S. Horton, The Christian Faith: A Systematic Theology for Pilgrims on the Way (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2011), 303, 309, 446; John Frame, Systematic Theology: An Introduction to Christian Belief (Phillipsburg: P & R, 2013), 59–60; K. Scott Oliphint, God With Us: Divine Condescension and the Attributes of God (Wheaton: Crossway, 2012), 106–09; J. van Genderen and W. H. Velema, Concise Reformed Dogmatics, trans. Gerrit Bilkes and Ed M. van der Maas (Phillipsburg: P & R, 2008), 200–08; Wayne Grudem, Systematic Theology: An Introduction to Biblical Doctrine (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1994), 518–19; Peter J. Gentry and Stephen J. Wellum, Kingdom Through Covenant: A Biblical-Theological Understanding of the Covenants

20

Introduction

Aside from these scattered essays and comments, to date, there are very few monographs on the doctrine. As best as I can determine, since Dickson’s 1638 speech at the Scottish Kirk’s General Assembly, numerous theologians treat the subject as part of larger dogmatic works, but only three theological monographs on the subject and five historical-theological works have been written, for a total of eight entries.24 The first theological monograph comes from Patrick Gillespie, a Scottish Covenanter. Gillespie’s work, The Ark of the Covenant Opened, or, A Treatise of the Covenant of Redemption Between God and Christ, was published in 1677. This work was part of a larger two-volume project, with the second volume covering the subject of the covenant of grace. John Owen wrote the foreword to this work and spoke of the doctrine being the place where numerous scriptural teachings intersected, and hence was of the greatest importance. Gillespie offered his work as a polemical thrust against Socinian views on Christ’s role as covenant surety, Antinomian views that contended that God did not make the covenant of grace with believers but with Christ alone, and Arminians who offered their own unique take on the common Reformed doctrine of the covenant of grace.25 The second monograph comes from Samuel Willard (1640–1707), an American colonial congregational theologian who lived in Concord, Massachusetts. Willard’s work, The Doctrine of the Covenant of Redemption (1693), was published sixteen years after Gillespie’s book. Willard was interested in informing his readers that, in addition to the covenants of works and grace, there was another covenant, namely, that between the Father and the Son. Within this covenant, Willard eagerly informed his readers that they would encounter gospel mysteries with “brevity and perspicuity.” He listed Hugo Grotius (1583–1645), Gerhard Vossius (1577–1649), Turretin, Gisbert Voetius (1589–1676), Abraham Heidanus (1597–1678), Owen, and Westminster divines Anthony Burgess (d. 1664) and William Twisse (ca. 1577–1646) as advocates of the doctrine.26

(Wheaton: Crossway, 2012), 59–60; Kevin J. Vanhoozer, Remythologizing Theology: Divine Action, Passion, and Authorship (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 259; John Webster, “‘It Was the Will of the Lord to Bruise Him’: Soteriology and the Doctrine of God,” in God of Salvation: Soteriology in Theological Perspective, ed. Ivor J. Davidson / Murray A. Rae (Farnham: Ashgate, 2011), 15–35, esp. 30–31. 24 There are some works, e. g., that include the covenant of redemption among other topics such as, James Hog, The Covenants of Redemption and Grace Displayed (Edinburgh: John Morton, 1707). Other works treat the covenants of works and grace, but then distinguish between the covenants of redemption and grace (so William Norcutt, A Compendium of the Covenants [London: Richard Hett, 1731]). 25 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 2–3. 26 Samuel Willard, The Doctrine of the Covenant of Redemption (Boston: Benj. Harris, 1693), preface.

State of the Question

21

The church would have to wait nearly three hundred years before another monograph on the pactum salutis would emerge. The third and only other dogmatic monograph on the pactum comes from Bertus Loonstra’s Election – Atonement – Covenant: The Reformed Doctrine of the Pactum Salutis Described and Reviewed (1990).27 Loonstra’s project is both a work of historical and systematic theology, though his interest is primarily dogmatic. In his work Loonstra seeks to eliminate the “contract-idea” from the covenant of redemption as well as from covenant theology in general.28 The fourth monograph on the pactum is a 2005 doctoral dissertation written by Carol Williams, “The Decree of Redemption is in Effect a Covenant: David Dickson and the Covenant of Redemption.”29 Williams’s work is one of historical theology; in her dissertation she traces the roots and explores the theological context of Dickson’s doctrine of the pactum. The fifth monograph comes from a 2013 doctoral dissertation by Reita Yazawa, “Covenant of Redemption in the Theology of Jonathan Edwards: The Nexus Between the Immanent and Economic Trinity.”30 The sixth entry is a 2015 doctoral dissertation by Byunghoon Woo, “The Pactum Salutis in the Theologies of Witsius, Owen, Dickson, Goodwin, and Cocceius.”31 The seventh and eighth monographs are historical-theological studies on the reception of the doctrine in Dispensational theology.32 The current status of the doctrine indicates that, while it has received broad acceptance in the past, it has not found many proponents and only slender expositions in recent years, at least in published works. Critics have characterized and described the doctrine as mythology (Barth), scholastic tinkering (Schilder), grotesque (Plantinga), and sub-trinitarian (Letham). But even then, these censures present little careful study of the history, exegesis, or theology of the doctrine. While theologians are certainly free to reject doctrines, they should only offer such negative characterizations with significant historical, exegetical, and 27 Bertus Loonstra, Verkiezing – Verszoening – Verbond: Beschrijving en beoordeling van de leer van het pactum salutis in de gereformeerde theologie (‘s-Gravenhage: Uitgeverij Boekencentrum B. V., 1990). 28 Loonstra, Verkiezing – Verszoening – Verbond, 385–87. 29 Carol A. Williams, “The Decree of Redemption is in Effect a Covenant: David Dickson and the Covenant of Redemption,” (Ph.D. Diss., Calvin Theological Seminary, 2005). 30 Reita Yazawa, “Covenant of Redemption in the Theology of Jonathan Edwards: The Nexus Between the Immanent and the Economic Trinity” (Ph.D. Diss., Calvin Theological Seminary, 2013). I am grateful to Laurence O’Donnell for alerting me to this source. 31 Byunghoon Woo, “The Pactum Salutis in the Theologies of Witsius, Owen, Dickson, Goodwin, and Cocceius,” (Ph.D. diss., Calvin Theological Seminary, 2015). 32 J. R. Graves, The Work of Christ in the Covenant of Redemption: Developed in Seven Dispensations (Texarkana, TX: Baptist Sunday School Committee, 1928); J. Michael Montgomery, “The Covenant of Redemption in Dispensational Theology” (Th. M. Thesis, Dallas Theological Seminary, 1959). My thanks to Laurence O’Donnell for pointing out these sources.

22

Introduction

theological argumentation, not simply verbal dismissal. Moreover, questions undoubtedly appear as to why the doctrine would be accepted so quickly and then seemingly fall out of favor among Reformed theologians. Even among advocates, the absence of monographs on the subject possibly belies a degree of ambivalence towards the doctrine. Or perhaps advocates believe the doctrine appears clearly enough in Scripture that it requires little justification. By comparison and stark contrast, there are numerous monographs specifically on the covenant of grace.33 It seems that theologians have been willing to expound the historical manifestation of redemption in the covenant of grace in great detail, but less willing to do the same regarding coordinating the concept of covenant with the eternal origins of God’s saving activity. Another possible reason that stands behind the lack of specific attention given to the pactum salutis was the eventual collapse of Reformed Orthodoxy and with it, the covenantal theology that undergirded its doctrinal expositions. Given the lack of attention to this doctrine, it seems ripe for retrieval.

Argument for retrieval C.S. Lewis (1898–1963) once opined that reading old books brought the fresh breeze of centuries past into our minds so that we would encounter truths that our generation has long forgotten and give us a different perspective on problems common to humanity throughout the ages.34 Of course, some might contend that the pactum would not bring a fresh breeze but rather a malodourous stench. 33 See, e. g., John Ball, A Treatise on the Covenant of Grace (London: G. Miller, 1645); Thomas Blake, Vidiciae foederis, or, A treatise of the Covenant of God entered with man-kinde in the several kindes and degrees of it (London: Abel Roper, 1658); Samuel Rutherford, The Covenant of Life Opened, or, A Treatise of the Covenant of Grace (Edinburgh: A. Anderson, 1655); Joseph Alleine, Heaven Opened: or, A Brief and Plain Discovery of the Riches of God’s Covenant of Grace (New York: American Tract Society, 1852); Peter Bulkeley, The Gospel Covenant or The Covenant of Grace Opened (1651); John Preston, The new Covenant, or, The Saints Portion: A Treatise Unfolding the All-Sufficiencie of God, man’s uprightness, and the covenant of grace (London: I. D., 1631); Thomas Hooker, The Covenant of Grace Opened (1649); Patrick Gillespie, The Ark of the Testament Opened, or, The Secret of the Lord’s Covenant Unsealed in a Treatise of the Covenant of Grace (London: R. C., 1681); Thomas Boston, A View of the Covenant of Grace from the Sacred Records (Edinburgh: R. Fleming and Co., 1734); Matthew Henry, The Covenant of Grace, ed. Allan Harman (Fearn: Christian Focus, 2002); John Murray, The Covenant of Grace: A Biblico-Theological Study (Phillipsburg: P & R, 1987); William Hendricksen, Covenant of Grace (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1978); John Von Rohr, The Covenant of Grace in Puritan Thought (Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2010); Herman Hanko, God’s Everlasting Covenant of Grace (Grand Rapids: Reformed Free Publishing Assn., 1988). 34 C. S. Lewis, “On the Reading of Old Books,” in God in the Dock: Essays on Theology and Ethics, ed. Walter Hooper (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1970), 200–07.

Argument for retrieval

23

Perhaps there is a good reason that so few books have been written on the subject. Perhaps the doctrine is better left in the theological crypt, out of sight, and out of mind. While some likely believe the doctrine is best left alone, an oddity, a museum relic of a by-gone era, given its scope and the doctrines it purports to envelope (christology, soteriology, theology proper, covenant, etc.), the doctrine ought to be retrieved and revived. A number of criticisms against traditional Reformed doctrines have likely suffered from a lack of attention to the pactum salutis. Some have argued, for example, that the Reformed doctrine of election is an abstract choice on God’s part—a cold piece of calculus, but hardly an expression of grace or love.35 Others have contended that the doctrine of election has historically been devoid of Christ.36 At the present time a number of theologians have written about the doctrine of union with Christ as the panacea for all that ails Evangelical and Reformed theology.37 If the church can only recognize the all-important doctrine of union with Christ, so the argument goes, then we can have a greater understanding of redemption and even repair the doctrinal breach between the so-called Old and New Perspectives on Paul, and perhaps even mend the relationships between Protestant, Roman Catholic, and Eastern Orthodox communities.38 Rarely, however, in these various and sundry discussions has anyone asked what stands behind the believer’s mystical union with Christ. To answer this question, we must push behind the curtain of history, to the eternal moment when the elect were chosen in Christ before the foundation of the world (Eph. 1:4). Such a move inevitably brings us to the ideas that God chose people and in some sense united them to the Christ, a title laden with covenantal freight, and a move that pushes us into the realm of the pactum salutis. Moreover, there appear to be a number of exegetical indicators present within the Scriptures that warrant careful study and construction of the doctrine such as Luke 22:29. When, for example, did the Father covenant a kingdom to the Son? By studying the history of the origins, 35 See, e. g., Basil Hall, “Calvin against the Calvinists,” in John Calvin, ed. G. E. Duffield (Appleford: Sutton Courtenay Press, 1966), 19–37; J. Wayne Baker, Heinrich Bullinger and the Covenant: The Other Reformed Tradition (Athens: Ohio University Press, 1980). 36 Barth, Church Dogmatics, II/2:155, 158, 187–88. 37 Marcus Peter Johnson, One With Christ: An Evangelical Theology of Salvation (Wheaton: Crossway, 2013), 25–28; William B. Evans, Imputation and Impartation: Union with Christ in American Reformed Theology (Eugene: Paternoster, 2008), 259–66. 38 Cf. Kevin J. Vanhoozer, “Wrighting the Wrongs of the Reformation? The State of the Union with Christ in St. Paul and Protestant Soteriology,” in Jesus, Paul and the People of God: A Theological Dialogue with N. T. Wright, ed. Nicholas Perrin / Richard B. Hays (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2011), 235–58, esp. 247–57; Carl E. Braaten and Robert W. Jenson, ed., Union with Christ: The New Finnish Interpretation of Luther (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998); Michael J. Gorman, Inhabiting the Cruciform God: Kenosis, Justification, and Theosis in Paul’s Narrative Soteriology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009).

24

Introduction

development, and reception of the pactum salutis, theologians can examine a number of issues from a different vantage point, one where theology (proper), christology, election, soteriology, and the doctrine of the covenant converge.

Aim of the present study There is a twofold aim for this present study: (1) survey the origins, development, and reception of the pactum salutis, and (2) identify the key doctrinal issues that arise, which set the stage for a retrieval of the doctrine. Studying the history of the doctrine does not establish its dogmatic legitimacy, but it does establish parameters so that theologians can consider the doctrine’s claims, test its formulations, and examine its exegetical footings. Through a conversation with the historical past, the present generation can enter a dialogue with the church across the ages rather than merely conduct a monologue only with the living. By entering this dialogue and excavating the theological past, we can also identify the chief issues that arise with the pactum salutis, which include: 1. Theological methodology – Early modern Reformed theologians are often accused of proof texting—extracting a doctrine from one biblical text. This study will reveal, however, that proponents of the pactum construct their doctrine canonically. One can eliminate various texts from consideration (e. g., Zech. 6:13) and have the doctrine remain intact because it rests on numerous passages of Scripture. 2. Reason or revelation – proponents of the doctrine have been accused of relying upon the raw power of reason to formulate the pactum—they are guilty of gross speculation. The survey will reveal another picture, one that shows how proponents exegetically wrestled with a number of scriptural texts. They were convinced that the doctrine was revealed and not the result of speculation. 3. Trinitarianism – critics have argued that the pactum subverts the doctrine of the trinity. Yet critics fail to account for the different versions of the doctrine, whether the christological or trinitarian models. In other words, is the covenant of redemption about the appointment of Christ to his office as covenant surety, or does it also involve the Holy Spirit? Moreover, a number of theologians contend that the pactum is the fruit of the trinitarian consilium Dei. Proponents of the doctrine were keen on preserving the fully trinitarian character of their theology but did so with an eye on explaining how to account for the scriptural language that the Father sent the Son into the world to save sinners. 4. Predestination – critics in recent years have accused Reformed theologians of promoting a Christless doctrine of election, one where God makes an abstract

Plan for the present study

25

choice devoid from Christ. The various formulations of the pactum, however, coordinate and connect election and christology, as the covenant of redemption is the appointment of the surety, the covenant head, of the elect. 5. Justification and imputation – as the doctrine began to develop, theologians connected Christ’s appointment as covenant surety to justification, specifically the doctrine of imputation. In simpler terms, When, precisely, do the elect receive the imputed righteousness of Christ? This is a question that receives different answers depending on the theologian: some contend the elect receive it in the pactum and are justified from eternity, others maintain that God decrees to impute Christ’s righteousness in the pactum but the elect do not receive it until they profess faith in Christ. In this respect, some advocates of the pactum employ the distinction between active and passive justification—the imputation of Christ’s righteousness in the pactum and its subsequent reception by faith. 6. The order of salvation – in the present day the concept of the ordo salutis is a vilified doctrine, a teaching that supposedly only rests upon one proof text, Romans 8:28–30. But once again, this study will show that the ordo salutis materially finds its origins in the pactum salutis, and as the doctrine develops, theologians make this connection explicit. The ordo salutis, therefore, rests upon broad exegetical and theological considerations, not one isolated proof text. 7. Love – in what is perhaps one of the more underappreciated and ignored ideas, this historical survey will show how frequently theologians invoke the idea of love. Far from a cold legal transaction, or a business deal, proponents of the pactum characterize the intra-trinitarian agreement as a manifestation of love among Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, one that overflows to the elect. As such, the pactum acts as an anchor, a source of assurance and hope, to encourage believers that their redemption is eternally secure because of the inviolable intra-trinitarian covenant. There are other ancillary issues that will arise in the course of this survey, but these aforementioned ideas are the major themes that accompany the various formulations of the pactum salutis.

Plan for the present study One of the benefits of doctrinal retrieval is that earlier theological formulations, debates, and discussions open new vistas upon present doctrinal dilemmas. As Lewis has observed, previous generations are fallible, but they do not necessarily

26

Introduction

make the same mistakes that we presently make.39 Or, as Webster has noted, “Classics come first; they exceed the possibilities of the present and have the capacity to expose and pass beyond its limitations.”40 But we do not merely explore the history of the doctrine as the study of an idea. Rather, It is in the Church that the Bible is read; it is by the Church that the Bible is heard. That means that in reading the Bible we should also hear what the Church, the Church that is distinguished from my person, has up to now read and heard from the Bible. Are we at liberty to ignore all that? Do the great teachers of the Church, do the Councils not posses a—certainly not heavenly—but, even so, earthly, human ‘authority’? We should not be too ready to say, No.41

Hence, any theology of retrieval, regardless of the doctrine, must begin with a thorough study of the history of the origins and subsequent development of the doctrine. Chapter 1, therefore, examines the historical origins of the pactum and explores the inchoate statements, ideas, and exegetical argumentation to support the doctrine of an intra-trinitarian covenant. Herman Witsius, for example, rebutted claims of the doctrine’s novelty and sought to demonstrate its antiquity and catholicity. This first chapter also surveys the refinement of Reformation exegesis, which benefited from engaging the biblical text in the original languages. Chapter 2 begins the survey of the reception of the doctrine in the Early Modern Reformed tradition, primarily through the work of Scottish theologian Patrick Gillespie. Gillespie is one of the few theologians to write a monograph on the doctrine, hence his work provides a rich source of historical-theological data. This chapter covers both Gillespie’s formulation but also other views extant in seventeenth-century England and Scotland. Chapter 3 delves into Continental expressions of the doctrine primarily through the exposition of Herman Witsius. There was undoubtedly interaction among English, Scottish, and Continental theologians, but there were different debates and issues of concern. English and Scottish variants did not rest upon the same exegetical foundations, nor did they seem concerned with the same questions. Especially among Dutch Reformed theologians, there were sometimes-heated exchanges regarding the proper exegesis of certain passages as well as disputes about the nature of Christ’s appointment as covenant surety. Was Christ an absolute or conditional surety? Chapter 4 examines the reception of the doctrine in the eighteenth-century by a comparison between two theologians, John Gill and Jonathan Edwards. Gill and 39 Lewis, “Reading Old Books,” 202. 40 Webster, “Theologies of Retrieval,” 590. 41 Karl Barth, Credo (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1962), 181.

Plan for the present study

27

Edwards both advocated their own versions of the doctrine. But despite holding to similar views on the pactum, the doctrine did not dictate a specific outcome. Both theologians connect the pactum to the doctrine of justification, but they take things in diametrically opposite directions. Gill makes justification an immanent act of the trinity, which means that when a person professes his faith he merely discovers his justified status. Edwards, conversely, argues that justification is not completed until the final judgment; he divides justification into two stages. Hence, this chapter illustrates both the reception as well as the different ways they doctrine was employed in the eighteenth-century. Chapter 5 surveys the views of Charles Hodge, whose doctrine of the pactum represents a return to classical Early Modern formulations. Hodge was raised in and committed to the theology of the Westminster Standards. But Hodge was very much aware that he did not live in the seventeenth century. Hodge’s reception of the pactum illustrates how old theology found expression in a new world, one where the Enlightenment had impacted theological presuppositions and dogmas. Often accused of rationalism, Hodge employed the pactum as part of his exegetically-based theology. Hodge, however, did not merely repeat and rehearse traditional formulations. He demonstrates a degree of independence in his own explanation of the covenant of redemption. Chapters 6 and 7 cover the twentieth century first with a survey of the critics of the pactum followed by a treatment of the doctrine’s proponents. Up until the twentieth century, the Reformed tradition had been favorably disposed towards the doctrine of the pactum salutis, but for a number of reasons theologians, including Herman Hoeksema, Klaas Schilder, Karl Barth, and John Murray, rejected it. Despite their different theological commitments, all four theologians detected similar problems with traditional Reformed covenant theology. They all objected to the traditional bi-covenantal structure of the covenants of works and grace, as well as rejected the pactum because they took issue with how the tradition had defined the term covenant. They all advocate one covenant of grace and identify the theology of John Calvin (1509–64) as an antidote to the tradition’s errors. Chapter 6, therefore, presents important data regarding the negative reception of the pactum in the twentieth century, information that must be factored in any effort to retrieve the doctrine. But not all twentieth-century Reformed theologians rejected the doctrine of the pactum salutis. Chapter 7, therefore, explores the contributions and formulations of Geerhardus Vos, Abraham Kuyper, Herman Bavinck, Louis Berkhof, and G. C. Berkouwer. Unlike the twentieth-century critics, these theologians were comfortable with the doctrine but nevertheless made modifications where they perceived weaknesses or deficiencies in earlier formulations. One of the reasons that these theologians embraced the doctrine was, not only did they believe it was exegetically warranted, but they also demonstrated a degree of

28

Introduction

theological affinity with the Reformed scholastic formulations of the doctrine. In this respect, this chapter reveals that the reception of the pactum in the twentieth century is also largely connected to the reception or rejection of Reformed scholasticism. The degree to which a theologian embraced the Reformed scholastic past is an indicator of the likelihood of whether he would accept or reject the covenant of redemption.

Conclusion When the sands of the hourglass inundate valuable theological ideas from the past, or when they become assumed but seldom-expounded assumptions, prudence calls for retrieval, reexamination, and a restatement of the doctrine. But retrieval of any doctrine must begin with a study of its history. How and under what circumstances did the doctrine arise? In what ways did the theologians refine the doctrine, solidify its exegetical support, hone formulations, and employ it? And how has the doctrine been received by the subsequent tradition? Answering these questions will help theologians recognize that, while the pactum salutis is a common staple in historic Reformed theology, there are numerous exegetical and theological formulations of this doctrine. Equipped with this historical-theological data, theologians can learn from the past and employ historical insights in contemporary dogmatic formulation. But as J. Gresham Machen (1881–1937) once observed, “A man cannot be original in his treatment of a subject unless he knows what the subject is; true originality is preceded by patient attention to the facts.”42 Hence, this study seeks to offer a small contribution to a greater awareness of the origins, development, and reception of the covenant of redemption so that the church would once again become familiar with this doctrine.

42 J. Gresham Machen, What Is Faith? (1925; Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1991), 19.

1.

Historical Origins

1.1

Introduction

Novelty, innovation, and speculation are not terms theologians typically want associated with their ideas. But these are precisely the words that have been attached to the doctrine of the pactum salutis. The doctrine does not appear on the historical scene until the middle of the seventeenth century, and it purports to disclose the inner workings of the triune God prior to the creation of the world. Some have argued that such an audacious latecomer should be rejected. For early modern Reformed theologians, the doctrine of the pactum salutis was not at all novel or speculative. Rather, the pactum salutis had a respectable pedigree and was firmly grounded in the teaching of Scripture. This chapter will therefore explain that as a historical phenomenon, the pactum salutis arises due to three key factors: (1) the age-old discussion of the work of Christ and the specific question of how in his office as mediator he is subordinate to the Father; (2) the early sixteenth-century characterization of the Son’s appointment to his office by way of a covenant; and (3) the refinement of exegesis due to a return to the original languages. In order to prove this three-fold thesis, we must briefly survey the historical origins of the pactum salutis, which first requires the investigation of two key theologians, Scottish theologian David Dickson (1583–1662), and Dutch theologian Herman Witsius (1636–1708). Both of these theologians provide the historically curious with information regarding the origins of the pactum salutis as a historical phenomenon. Witsius’s exposition partially explains how the doctrine seemingly arose so quickly and became widely accepted. The sources that Witsius cites demonstrate that the pactum salutis embraced a number of doctrinal categories such as christology, election, and the nature of redemption, and that they all neatly fell under the category of a divine intra-trinitarian covenant. The employment and application of the covenant concept was not ultimately due to speculation or rationalistic logic but to exegesis of certain key biblical texts.

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Second, this chapter examines early sixteenth-century references to an intratrinitarian covenant as one source for the origins of pactum salutis. As theologians wrote and disseminated their ideas, others undoubtedly picked them up and incorporated the idea of an intra-trinitarian covenant in their own theological works. Third, the chapter explores a key exegetical turning point in the development of the pactum salutis with the exegesis of Luke 22:29. Earlier exegesis and interpretation of this text based upon the Latin Vulgate transitioned to the original Greek, which revealed that the Father did not merely appoint a kingdom to Christ but rather that it was covenanted to him. This minor exegetical refinement affected later exegesis and theological formulations. Fourth, the chapter will examine several compact treatments of the office of Christ that either employ the substance of the pactum salutis or explicitly mention a covenant between the Father and Son. Three elements (exegesis of key texts, early references to an intra-trinitarian covenant, the refinement of exegesis) account for the rise of the doctrine of the pactum salutis. But before we proceed, readers should note that Richard Muller has already offered significant historical research on the development of the pactum salutis.1 At points I rely upon his earlier analysis but I also explore other avenues that do not appear in Muller’s published research. My purpose in this chapter, therefore, is not to offer an exhaustive account of the origins of the pactum salutis or merely echo Muller’s work. Rather, this chapter offers a brief and simplified account of the origins of the pactum salutis and investigates several unexplored avenues.

1.2

David Dickson’s speech

Recent research has identified the first explicit defense and definition of the pactum salutis originating from Scottish theologian, David Dickson.2 During the 1638 General Assembly of the Scottish Kirk Dickson arose to address the errors of Arminianism. Dickson offered the outline of his speech and stated that he would first explain the errors of Arminianism and then “lay out our doctrine.”3 Re1 Richard A. Muller, “Toward the Pactum Salutis: Locating the Origins of a Concept,” MAJT 18 (2007): 11–65. 2 Muller, “Toward the Pactum Salutis, 17; Carl Trueman, “The Harvest of Reformation Mythology? Patrick Gillespie and the Covenant of Redemption,” in Scholasticism Reformed: Essays in Honour of Willem J. van Asselt, ed. Maarten Wisse / Marcel Sarot / Willemien Otten (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 198–99; Carol A. Williams, “The Decree of Redemption is in Effect a Covenant: David Dickson and the Covenant of Redemption,” (Ph.D. Diss., Calvin Theological Seminary, 2005). 3 David Dickson, “Arminianism Discussed,” in Records of the Kirk of Scotland, containing the Acts and Proceedings of the General Assemblies, from the Year 1638 Downwards, ed. Alexander Peterkin (Edinburgh: Peter Brown, 1845), 156.

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hearsing the main points of disagreement between Remonstrant and Reformed theology, Dickson identified and engaged the subjects of election, the efficacy of Christ’s satisfaction, the nature of free will, and the doctrine of perseverance.4 But when he sought to identify the chief Remonstrant failing, he argued that they were unfamiliar with the “Covenant of redemption betwixt God and Christ.” Dickson commented that they should have been familiar with the doctrine, seeing that “they pointed at it themselves,” which was a likely reference to the teaching of Jacob Arminius (1560–1609) and his early advocacy of it, which will be treated below.5 Dickson explained the difference between the covenant of redemption, which was a covenant between God and Christ, and the covenant of salvation (or grace), which was between God and man.6 Dickson brought up the doctrine of the covenant of redemption because he believed that the inviolability of the covenant of grace was secured in it—it was a bulwark against failure. At the close of his speech Dickson listed five theses to explain how the covenant of redemption undergirds the covenant of grace. First, there is a covenant between God and Christ, which is the ground of all that God does to redeem fallen man. Second, in the covenant of redemption the elect were designed in terms of their name and number as well as the time in which they would be saved. The election of certain individuals was agreed upon in the covenant of redemption. Third, the price of redemption was determined, how Christ would be “holden captive of death, &tc.” Fourth, the mediator was ensured of his success and the elect were given to him, and their salvation was placed in his hand. Fifth, no one would truly take God’s grace for granted or be robbed of the assurance of salvation given God’s wise dispensation of the gospel, the fruit of the covenant of redemption.7 Dickson’s speech is interesting because he invokes the doctrine of the covenant of redemption, cites no authorities, states that this is “our doctrine,” and the minutes do not record any objection to his claims. The pactum salutis seemingly arose ex nihilo and no one noticed. Despite the sudden appearance of the pactum salutis, clues regarding the historical origins of the doctrine appear in the work of one of early modernity’s bright theological lights, Herman Witsius.

4 5 6 7

Dickson, “Arminianism Discussed,” 156–57. Dickson, “Arminianism Discussed,” 157. Dickson, “Arminianism Discussed,” 157. Dickson, “Arminianism Discussed,” 158.

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1.3

Historical Origins

Herman Witsius and the sources of the pactum salutis

In his treatment of the pactum salutis Witsius reveals information regarding the historical origins of the pactum salutis. As a historical-theological phenomenon, Witsius was jealous to prove that the doctrine “is unjustly traduced as a new and late invention,” though he was honest to admit that he found “few among the more ancient who have professedly handled this subject, yet some of the greatest divines have sometimes made mention of this covenant.”8 Witsius then lists a number of theologians that engage the subject, including Arminius, William Ames (1576–1633), Franciscus Gomarus (1563–1641), Johannes Cloppenburg (1592–1652), Gisbert Voetius (1589–1676), Andreas Essenius (1618–77), Jacobus Tirinius (1580–1636), and John Owen (1616–83). The earliest historical reference from among the names Witsius mentions comes from Arminius and his oration on the priesthood of Christ, which was delivered in 1603. Arminius writes of “the covenant into which God entered with our High Priest, Jesus Christ,” which consisted of the Father’s demand that an action be performed with the promise of “immense remuneration.” In response, Christ accepted the Father’s promise and voluntarily determined to perform the required action.9 Arminius then elaborates upon the various aspects of this covenant between the Father and the Son. First, the Father required that the Son should lay down his soul as a victim in sacrifice and that he pay the price of redemption for the sins and captivity of the human race (Isa. 53:11; John 6:51). The Father promised the Son that if he performed this sacrificial work that his “days should be prolonged” (Isa. 53:11) and that he would forever be a priest according to the order of Melchizedek (Psa. 110:4). If Christ performed his priestly duties he would then be elevated to regal dignity. Second, Christ willingly accepted these conditions; his consent, according to Arminius, is recorded in Psalm 40:8: “Lo, I come that I may do thy will, O my God.” But Christ accepted this priestly labor on the stipulation that he would receive an eternal priesthood according to the order of Melchizedek and sit in royal session at the Father’s right hand as the King of Righteousness and Peace (Heb. 7:2; Psa. 45:7).10 Beyond Arminius, Witsius draws attention to the works of William Ames, who was critical of later Remonstrant theologians. Ames expresses his disagreement with a common Remonstrant distinction between the impetration and application of redemption, namely, that Christ first secures redemption but might not 8 Herman Witsius, Economy of the Covenants Between God and Man: Comprehending a Complete Body of Divinity, 2 vols., trans. William Crookshank (1822; Escondido: Den Dulk Foundation, 1990), II.ii.16. 9 Jacob Arminius, “The Priesthood of Christ,” in The Works of James Arminius, 3 vols. (1825– 75; Grand Rapids: Baker, 1996), I:416. 10 Arminius, “Priesthood of Christ,” in Works, I:416.

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necessarily apply it. One of the reasons why Ames rejects this distinction is because it does not account for the Father’s covenant with Christ, “he will see his seed, and the pleasure of Jehovah will prosper his hand” (Isa. 53:10).11 Witsius draws upon Gomarus, who argued that the circumcision of Christ in Luke 2:21 was evidence that God was in covenant with Christ, not only by virtue of the promise he made to Abraham (Gen 17:7; Gal. 3:16), but also because of the necessity of Christ’s obedience to the Father (Psa. 45:7; Heb. 1:9).12 Witsius undoubtedly wanted to prove the catholicity of the doctrine and therefore draws upon a Roman Catholic Jesuit theologian, Jacobus Tirinus. In his explanation of Isaiah 53:11 (“He shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied: by his knowledge shall my righteous servant justify many; for he shall bear their iniquities”). Tirinus explains that “his knowledge” refers to the covenant between the Father and Christ by which the suffering and death of Christ constituted the premium, redemption, justification, and glorification of all of those who were united to Christ. And though he does not give a reference, Tirinus cites Francisco Suarez (1548–1617) as the source of his comment.13 Witsius last of all cites the work of John Owen, in particular his exercitation on the pactum salutis, which was part of his seven-volume commentary on Hebrews. But as extensive as his treatment of the pactum salutis is, Owen does not identify historic sources as authorities on the matter. The same can be said for his brief treatment of the pactum salutis in his famous anti-Remonstrant treatise, The Death of Death in the Death of Christ.14 At this point critics of the doctrine might come to the conclusion that Witsius has not convincingly proven the broad acceptance of the doctrine because he does not cite authorities from antiquity to substantiate its validity. But such a move would be hasty, especially given some of the dialogue that appears in one of Witsius’s cited authorities. Among the names that Witsius cites is Gisbert Voe11 William Ames, De Morte Christi, in Anti-synodalia scripta, vel animadversiones in dogmatica illa, quae Remonstrantes in Synodo Dordracena exhiburunt, et postea divulgarunt (Amsterdam: G. Blaeu, 1633), I.v (p. 148); idem, Rescriptio scholastica & brevis ad Nic. Grevinchovii responsum illud prolixum, quod opposuit dissertationi de redemptione generali, & electione ex fide praevisa (Harderwijk: Nicholai a Wieringen, 1645), I (pp. 5–6); Witsius, Economy, II.ii.16. 12 Francisus Gomarus, Selectorum, evangelii Lucae locorum illustratio, in Opera theologica omnia (Amsterdam: Joannis Janssonii, 1644), 252–57, esp. 256; Witsius, Economy, II.ii.16. Note, Witsius corrects Gomarus’s erroneous citation of Psalm 45:8. 13 Jacobus Tirinus, Commentarius in Sacram Scripturam, vol. 1 (Lugduni: apud J. Baptistam & Nicolaum de Ville, 1702), comm. Isa. 53:11 (p. 414); Witsius, Economy, II.ii.16. 14 John Owen, Salus Electorum, Sanguis Jesu; or, The Death of Death in the Death of Christ, in The Works of John Owen, vol. 10, ed. William H. Goold (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1862), 168– 74; idem, An Exposition of the Epistle to the Hebrews, vol. 2, in The Works of John Owen, vol. 19, ed. William H. Goold (Edinburgh: Johnstone and Hunter, 1864), exercitation XXVIII, 77–97.

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tius, one of the foremost Reformed theologians of the late seventeenth-century. Witsius cites Voetius’s specific statement that Christ “was subject for us to the special law of paying our debt by condign punishment, as our Mediator and surety, according to the tenor of the covenant entered into with the Father.”15 Voetius mentions the covenant between the Father and the Son, but of greater interest is the context from which this comment arises, namely, his disputation on the merit of Christ. Voetius specifically poses the question, “Did Christ merit anything for himself ?”16 He answers this question in the affirmative, noting that Christ fulfilled the law with perfect obedience, which according to Leviticus 18:5 (cf. Gal. 3), entitles the person who accomplishes this feat to eternal life. Voetius cites a number of theologians who hold to this position, including Heinrich Bullinger (1504–75), Girolamo Zanchi (1516–90), Johannes Piscator (1546–1625), Benedict Turretin (1588–1631), Cloppenburg, and Gomarus. He notes the opposing views of Calvin, Lambert Daneau (ca. 1530–95), and David Pareus (1548– 1622). In his sermons on the book of Revelation, for example, Bullinger echoes and cites Paul’s words from Philippians 2:8–9, that Christ received a kingdom because of his obedience and suffering.17 Bound with the idea of the obedience of Christ were the issues of the hypostatic union, the divine and human natures of Christ, and the specific question of how the God-man related to God the Father. How to relate all of these doctrines was an age-old question: To what extent, if any, did Christ according to his two natures submit to the Father? How should a person explain the statement of Christ, “Therefore doth my Father love me, because I lay down my life, that I might take it again. No man taketh it from me, but I lay it down of myself. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it again. This commandment have I received of my Father” ( John 10:17–18; emphasis)? How does Christ, who is fully God, receive and obey the command of his Father given his ontological equality to him? Voetius notes that, among the patristics, John Chrysostom (ca. 347–407) denies that Christ had a command from the Father. Chrysostom writes: “So here when He saith that He received a commandment from the Father, He declared nothing save that, ‘this which I do seemeth good to Him.’”18

15 Witsius, Economy, II.ii.16; Gisbert Voetius, “Problematum De Merito Christi, Pars Tertia,” in Selectarum Disputationum Theologicarum, vol. 2 (Ultrajecti: apud Johannem à Waesberge, 1655), 266. 16 Voetius, “De Merito Christi,” in Selectarum Disputationum, 265. 17 Heinrich Bullinger, Sermons upon the Apocalypse of Jesus Christe (Zurich: n. p., 1561), serm. XXVII (p. 161). 18 John Chrysostom, Homilies on St. John, serm. LX.ii, in NPNF 14:218; Voetius, “De Merito Christi,” in Selectarum Disputationum, 266.

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Voetius rejects Chrysostom’s argument and refers his readers to the commentary of Andre Rivet (1572–1651) on Psalm 40:9.19 The subject of Christ’s obedience arises within the context of Psalm 40, especially given verse 8: “I delight to do thy will, O my God: yea, thy law is within my heart.” This is a commonly cited text for the pactum salutis because it deals with the obedience of Christ and is cited in the NT (Heb. 10:7). In his commentary Rivet specifically rejects Chrysostom’s interpretation of John 10:17–18 and cites Philippians 2:8, that Christ was obedient unto death, as counter evidence. Rivet argues that if Paul characterizes Christ’s willingness to die as an act of obedience, then it must follow that he was given a command.20 Like Voetius, Rivet argues that as a man Christ received the precept and command of the Father, which arose from God’s decree, and he had to perform it for our salvation (Deut. 18:18; Act 3:22; 7:37).21 On this point, Rivet points readers to the opinions of Augustine (354–430) and Thomas Aquinas (1225–74). Augustine seeks to answer the question in what way the Son is subordinate to the Father in light of Christ’s statements such as, “My Father is greater than I” ( John 14:28). Augustine stresses the ontological equality between the Father and the Son based upon several scriptural texts but also equally affirms the fact that the Scriptures designate Christ a servant. Naturally, Augustine appeals to Philippians 2:8–9 to prove his point. In his exegesis of this text Augustine makes the distinction between the Son “in the form of God” and “in the form of a servant.” Augustine does not use the term, but he clearly has in view the distinction between the ontological and economic aspects of the trinity.22 Aquinas makes a similar point when he answers two separate questions: (1) How can we say that Christ is subject to the Father, and (2) Is Christ subject to himself ? And in fact, Aquinas cites the same passage from Augustine in his own arguments in favor of the idea that Christ is subject to the Father.23 This is the very point that Voetius raises when he argues that Christ was subject to the law as mediator and surety, according to the terms of the covenant between the Father and the Son.24 So, thus far, what conclusions can we draw based upon the information Witsius provides? First, he believed the pactum salutis was not a recent novelty but had a respectable pedigree. At the earliest, in 1603 Arminius offers one of the clearest explanations of the doctrine, though this hardly qualifies as evidence of 19 Voetius, “De Merito Christi,” in Selectarum Disputationum, 266. 20 Andre Rivet, Commentarius in Psalmorum Propheticorum (Rotterodami: Arnoldi Leers, 1645), 369. 21 Rivet, Commentarius in Psalmorum, 369. 22 Augustine, On the Holy Trinity, I.vii, in NPNF 3:24. 23 Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica (rep.; Allen: Christian Classics, 1948), IIIa q. 20. arts. 1– 2; Rivet, Commentarius in Psalmorum, 369. 24 Voetius, “De Merito Christi,” in Selectarum Disputationum, 266.

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the doctrine’s antiquity. Investigators, consequently, might conclude that the pactum salutis arose de novo in the seventeenth century if they are looking for the specific term (e. g., pactum salutis, covenant or redemption, council of peace) or any of its seventeenth-century variants to explain the nature of the relationship between the Father and the Son. But Witsius undoubtedly has broader doctrinal issues in view: In what way is the Son subordinate to the Father given some of Christ’s statements, and how is this connected to his merit (obedience), and our redemption? These doctrinal issues stretch back well into the patristic era, and in the light of these perennial questions, seeks to provide answers through the doctrine of the covenant. While the term pactum salutis is of recent origin, its christological substance is ancient, catholic, and of great significance. Second, by the time Witsius was writing his Economy of the Covenants in 1677, the pactum salutis was fairly widespread, geographically and theologically. If Arminius constitutes one of the first expressions of the doctrine, within a period of seventy-four years the pactum salutis was attested in Roman Catholic, early Remonstrant, and Reformed theology, and theologians throughout Europe advocated it. This was the point of Witsius’s citations to a number of different theologians. He wanted to demonstrate that the doctrine was not confined to Reformed theologians alone.

1.4

Early references to an intra-trinitarian covenant

Seldom do doctrines have silver-bullet single-source explanations. Rather, as historical phenomena, multiple streams of people, ideas, history, and theology coalesce to produce doctrinal formulations. One of the likely sources for the pactum salutis is the fact that in the early sixteenth-century a number of theologians claimed that there was an intra-trinitarian covenant on exegetical grounds. Perhaps one of the earliest documented cases where a theologian mentions a covenant between the Father and the Son appears in the work of Martin Luther (1483–1546). In his 1519 commentary on Galatians 3:18, “For if the inheritance be of the law, it is no more of promise: but God gave it to Abraham by promise,” Luther explains that Paul elsewhere calls God’s promise a testament. According to Luther a testament required the death of the testator, according to Hebrews 9:15. Hence, that Paul calls God’s promise a testament hints at the idea that God would necessarily die through his incarnation and suffering. Luther seeks to harmonize the comments of Jerome (ca. 347–420), who notes that in Hebrew the term covenant appears rather than testament (cf. Gen. 12.2–3). Luther alleviates the apparent tension between the two terms by explaining that God as immortal makes a covenant, an agreement between equals, but through the incarnation as a mortal he makes a testament. This is not the doctrine of the

Early references to an intra-trinitarian covenant

37

pactum salutis, but Luther’s point should not be lost that, Christ as immortal makes a covenant in eternity prior to the testament he enters through his incarnation in history.25 Another early reference appears in the work of Johannes Oecolampadius (1482–1531) and his commentary on Isaiah. He writes of the pactum cum filio sua domino nostros Ihesu Christo (“covenant with his son our Lord Jesus Christ”).26 Oecolampadius bases his comment upon the prophet’s invocation of the “everlasting covenant” (Isa. 55:3). Oecolampadius argues that God has made an everlasting covenant (foedus sempiternum) with believers because he has written his law upon their hearts, and this saving action is based upon his covenant with his son.27 Caspar Olevianus (1536–87) offers a more detailed explanation of the interaction between the Father and Son and has been identified as one of the first Reformed theologians to write of an intra-trinitarian covenant.28 Like Oecolampadius, Olevianus writes of an eternal covenant of peace, which he finds in his explanation of the latter portions of Isaiah, chapters 59 and 54. Olevianus argues that the blessings of salvation originate in this eternal covenant, which is manifest in his promises to Abraham (Gal. 3:18; Acts 3:25–26).29 Given that the doctrine of salvation involved the correlation of a number of scriptural teachings, such as election, justification, and the mediatory work of Christ, Olevianus integrated these themes together through the doctrine of the covenant. In his explanation of the covenant of grace and the mediatory role of Christ, Olevianus writes: The Son of God, having been constituted by the Father as Mediator of the covenant (constitutus spondet), becomes the guarantor on two counts: (1) He shall satisfy for the sins of all those whom the Father has given him ( Jn. 17) and he decreed from eternity to adopt them into sonship through Christ (Eph. 1); (2) He shall also bring it to pass that

25 Martin Luther, Galatians – 1519, comm. Gal. 5:18, LW 27:267–68; Muller, “Toward the Pactum Salutis,” 25. 26 Johannes Oecolampadius, In Iesaiam Prophetam Hypomnematon (Basileae: n. p. 1525), comm. Isa. 55:3, fol. 268v. 27 Andrew A. Woolsey, Unity and Continuity in Covenantal Thought: A Study in the Reformed Tradition to the Westminster Assembly (Grand Rapids: Reformation Heritage Books, 2012), 211. 28 Willem J. van Asselt, The Federal Theology of Johannes Cocceius (1603–69) (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 227; cf. Van Asselt cites Heinrich Heppe, Dogmatik des deutschen Protestantismus im 16 Jahrhundert, 2 vols. (Gotha: Verlag von Friedrich Andreas Berthes, 1857), II:215–20. Also note Lyle D. Bierma, German Calvinism in the Confessional Age: The Covenant Theology of Caspar Olevianus (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1996), 107–12. 29 Caspar Olevianus, De substantia foederis gratuiti inter Deum et electos, itemque de mediis, quibus ea ipsa substantia nobis communicator (Geneva: Eustathium Vignon, 1585), II.xxviii (p. 272); R. Scott Clark, Caspar Olevian and the Substance of the Covenant: The Double Benefit of Christ (Edinburgh: Rutherford House, 2005), 177.

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they, being planted in him, shall enjoy peace of conscience and be renewed daily in the image of God.30

According to Olevianus, through the eternal covenant the Father constitutes Christ as mediator, which secures the redemption of the elect.31 While the coordination of covenant and Christ’s appointment as mediator in Olevianus was somewhat uncommon in comparison to other Reformed theologians during the early to mid- sixteenth century, Christ’s divine appointment as mediator was not. The Belgic Confession (1561), for example, reflects this common idea when it states that the Father “appointed” Christ as mediator between God and man.32 Along these lines, John Calvin (1509–64) contends that Psalm 2:7–8 deals with the “divine appointment” of David as king but that the words, “Thou art my Son; this day have I begotten thee,” ultimately refer to Christ.33 Calvin does not explicitly state it, but the implication of his comment is that God’s covenant is typological of his covenant with Christ. This is an exegetical and interpretive move that appears in later discussions of the pactum salutis. In his commentary on Isaiah, Calvin repeatedly makes reference to Christ’s appointment as mediator. Calvin argues, for example, that when Isaiah (49:1) writes, “The Lord hath called me from the womb,” that it does not refer to the calling of believers but to Christ’s appointment, which occurred in eternity past: “Christ was clothed with our flesh by the appointment of the Father, in order that he might fulfill the office of Redeemer, to which he had been appointed.”34 Calvin does not argue for the pactum salutis, though he does offer key elements that later comprise the doctrine, namely, that the Father appoints the Son as mediator of the covenant.35

30 Olevianus, De Substantia, I.ii.1 (p. 23), trans. Clark, Caspar Olevian, 178. 31 Clark, Caspar Olevian, 178–79; Olevianus, De Substantia, I.ii.5 (p. 26). 32 Belgic Confession XXVI, in Philip Schaff, The Creeds of Christendom, 3 vols. (1931; Grand Rapids: Baker, 1990), III:413. The French, as it appears in Schaff (III:413) states: “Mais ce Mediateur que le Père nous a donné,” and the Latin states, “Hic Mediator, quem Pater inter ipsum et nos ordinavit” (H. A. Niemeyer, Collectio Confessionum in Ecclesiis Reformatis Publicatorum [Lipsiae: Julii Klinkhardti, 1840], 377). 33 John Calvin, Psalms, Calvin’s Commentaries, vol. 4, CTS (rep.; Grand Rapids: Baker, 1993), comm. Psa. 2:7–8 (pp. 17–19). 34 John Calvin, Isaiah, Calvin’s Commentaries, vol. 8, CTS (rep.; Grand Rapids: Baker, 1993), comm. Isa. 49:1 (p. 9); Muller, “Towards the Pactum Salutis,” 36. 35 Muller, “Towards the Pactum Salutis,” 29–30.

A key exegetical turning point

1.5

39

A key exegetical turning point

But the question arises: What caused Reformed theologians to coordinate more closely the doctrines of the covenant and Christ’s appointment as mediator? While it may sound like a cliché, Reformed theologians coordinated these two ideas through their reading of the Scriptures in the original languages. One key text that regularly appears in expositions of the pactum salutis is Luke 22:29: “And I appoint unto you a kingdom, as my Father hath appointed unto me.” At a minimum, the text addresses Christ’s appointment as mediator in terms of his kingly reign, and the common translation of this statement dates back to Jerome’s Vulgate and was repeated by Erasmus (1466–1536) in his translation of the New Testament: “Ego dispono vobis sicut disposuit mihi Pater meus regnum.”36 But the Reformation impulse to return to the original biblical languages rather than rely upon the Latin Vulgate drove theologians such as Theodore Beza (1519– 1605) back to Luke’s Greek. Where Jerome and other translators employ the term dispono (“appoint”), the Greek text contains the term διατίθεμαι, which means, “to make a covenant.” Hence, Beza translates Luke 22:29 as: “Ego igitur paciscor vobis, prout pactus est mihi Pater meus, regnum” (“I therefore covenant to you, just as my Father covenanted to me, a kingdom”).37 Beza’s closer exegesis of the original Greek text stands in contrast to earlier patristic and medieval interpretation of Luke 22:29. In his commentary on Luke’s gospel, for example, Thomas Aquinas (1225–74) strings various comments together from Theophylact (ca. 1050–1108), Ambrose (337–97), Bede (672–735), and Cyril (ca. 376–444), none of whom comment upon the nature of Christ’s regal appointment and the underlying Greek text.38 Beza dropped his exegetical observation and retranslation of Luke 22:29 and it rippled through the theological waters of the sixteenth century.39 In Giovanni

36 Muller, “Towards the Pactum Salutis,” 39–40. 37 Theodore Beza, Iesu Christi D. N. Novum Testamentum, Graece & Latine Theodoro Beza interprete (n. p.: Henricus Stephanus, 1567), ad loc. Luke 22:29 (fol. 130v); Muller, “Towards the Pactum Salutis,” 40. 38 Thomas Aquinas, Catena Aurea: Commentary on the Four Gospels, Collected out of the Works of the Fathers, vol. 3, pt. 2 (Oxford: John Henry Parker, 1843), ad loc. comm. Luke 22:29 (pp. 712–13). 39 This is not to imply that all interpreters embraced this translation, see e. g., Cornelius à Lapide, S. J., The Great Commentary of Cornelius à Lapide, vol. 6 (London: John Hodges, 1887), ad loc. Luke 22:29 (p. 480). However, noteworthy in Lapide’s comments are key elements of what would later become the pactum salutis: “As My Father has decreed and prepared for Me, through humility and the cross: through so many labors and sufferings: a kingdom heavenly and eternal, so do I also appoint the same unto you: that is, I decree, prepare, and, going to death I now appoint, as by my will, that through the same humility, cross, and suffering, you shall possess a like, nay, the same kingdom with Me in heaven”

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Diodati’s (1576–1649) Pious Annotations Upon the Holy Bible (1607), he notes that the phrase “appoint unto you” is “a term used in Testaments,” and he links Christ’s words to Hebrews 9:17.40 Rudolf Gwalther (1519–86), an associate of Heinrich Bullinger (1504–75) and Zurich Reformed theologian, also adopts the same modified translation in his sermons on Luke’s gospel.41 Hugo Grotius (1583–1645) offers a similar exegetical pattern when he notes that Luke 22:29 employs the term διατίθεμαι (“I covenant”), rather than legare, which means “to appoint.” The Father was pacto addicere (“bound by a covenant”). Grotius draws upon several OT texts to support his argument, most notably the Septuagint’s translation of 2 Chronicles 7:18, καὶ ἀναστήσω τὸν θρόνον τῆς βασιλείας σου, ὡς διεθέμην Δαυιδ τῷ πατρί σου (“Then will I establish the throne of thy kingdom, according as I have covenanted with David thy father”). Grotius also appeals to Psalm 89:4 [ET 3] and how the Septuagint renders the Hebrew: ‫כרתי ברית לבחירי‬ ‫ נשבצתי‬// Διεθέμην διαθήκην τοῖς ἐκλεκτοῖς μου (“I have made a covenant with my chosen”).42 Other commentators of the period, such as Lodewijk De Dieu (1590– 1642), note the two competing interpretations (dispono vs. paciscor) but opt for the latter based upon analysis both of the OT and Septuagint as well as Syriac and Arabic translations of Luke’s gospel.43 As important as the refined exegesis of Luke 22:29 is to the early formulations of the pactum, a number of other factors and biblical texts influence the doctrine’s development. One example of the multi-layered exegetical origins of the pactum salutis appears in Grotius’s references to the Davidic covenant (2 Chr. 7:18; Psa. 89:3[4]), which feature prominently in later exegetical arguments in favor of the pactum salutis. In other words, theologians did not coordinate covenant and Christ’s mediatory work based upon Luke 22:29 alone.

40 41 42

43

(Lapide, Commentary, 480–81). The Father decrees and appoints Christ as mediator, which entails his labors, sufferings, and crucifixion, i. e., his satisfaction for sin. Giovanni Diodati, Pious and Learned Annotations upon the Holy Bible: Plainly Expounding the Most Difficult Places Thereof (London: Nicolas Fussell, 1651), ad loc. Luke 22:29. Rudolf Gwalther, D. Lucas Evangelista. Rodolphi Gwaultheri Tigurini in Euangelium Iesu Chrisit secundum Lucam Homiliae CCXV (Zurich: Cristoph d. J. Froschauer, 1585), serm. CXCVI (fols. 516v–520v). Hugo Grotius, Hugonis Grotii Annotationes in Novum Testamentum, vol. 3 (Groningae: W. Zuidema, 1827), 462; cf. Johannes Cocceius, Summa Doctrinae de Foedere et Testamento Dei, in Opera Omnia theologica, exegetica, didactica, polemica, philologica, vol. 7 (Amsterdam: 1701), loc. XIV, XXXIV.ii (p. 238); Brian J. Lee, “The Covenant Terminology of Johannes Cocceius: the Use of Foedus, Pactum, and Testamentum in a Mature Federal Theologian,” MAJT 14 (2003): 22–28. Lodewijk De Dieu, Animadversiones sive Commentarius in quatuor Evangelia, in quo, collatis Syri imprimis, Arabis, Evangelii Hebraei, Vulgati, Erasmi & Bezae versionibus difficiliora quaeque loca illustrantur et variae lectiones conferuntur (Lugduni Batavorum: Bonaventurae & Abrahami Elizevir, 1631), ad loc. Luke 22:29 (p. 375).

The doctrine’s birth and refinement

1.6

41

The doctrine’s birth and refinement

Up to this point in our exploration, we have gathered a number of disparate elements that converge in the pactum, namely, the decree, intercessory work of Christ and his appointment as mediator, and the doctrine of the covenant. As noted above, there were scattered references to the idea of an intra-trinitarian covenant, but this is far from widespread acceptance of the doctrine. In the period leading up to the middle of the seventeenth century, a number of Reformed works presented these different doctrinal topics (the decree, christology, and covenant) in a compact form in two ways: they either present the substance of the pactum or they explain the Father and Son’s interaction in terms of a covenant without invoking the specific technical nomenclature of the pactum salutis in any of its variants. In his exposition of the doctrine of Christ, John Downame (1571–1652), for example, first explains Christ’s person and then his office. Christ’s office has three parts: (1) who the mediator is and those for whom he intercedes; (2) the property of the office of mediation; and (3) the means by which the office is executed. Downame identifies Christ as the mediator and the elect as the beneficiaries of his intercessory work; he stipulates that God gave his Son to the elect “when we were his enemies.”44 Downame then argues that, when the apostle Paul explains the work of Christ, he does not immediately discuss the office but rather the “warrant of a lawfull calling for it.”45 Downame explains that God the Father sealed his Son for his intercessory work ( John 6:27), and among other cited texts, he refers to Hebrews 5:4–6 to draw attention to the fact that a priest does not assume his office of his own accord. Invoking the words of Hebrews 7:17, Downame notes that Christ is a priest according to the order of Melchizedek. He then asks how Christ is made king and priest. The answer is twofold. First, the Father equips Christ with the necessary gifts and graces to discharge his office. And, second, the Father solemnly installs Christ to his office (Isa. 61:1; Psa. 45:7). Downame then explains: But albeit his Office of Mediation in Gods appointment were before all eternitie, yet actually it beganne upon Adams fall comming after the Covenant of workes, which was from the beginning, as soone as Angels and men were made, when as yet the purpose of God to save us through Christ, lay hid within himselfe, which first he revealed in Paradise as soone as man had fallen: The seed of the woman shall breake the head of the Serpent. Hereupon wee finde him inserted into the place, not onely after he had taken flesh, when a voice came from Heaven, saying, This is my welbeloved Sonne, in whom I 44 John Downame, The Summe of Sacred Divinitie Briefly & Methodically Propounded: More Longly and Cleerely handled and explained (London: William Stansby, n. d.), II.i (pp. 278–79); Muller, “Towards the Pactum Salutis,” 56–58. 45 Downame, Summe of Sacred Divinitie, II.i (p. 279).

42

Historical Origins

am well pleased (Matt. 3:17), but before his coming into the World, by him that sware, Thou art a Priest for ever, after the order of Melchisedech (Psa. 110:4; Heb. 5:6): And againe, Thou art my Sonne, this day begate I thee (Psa. 2:7).46

At this point in his exposition Downame recognizes that Christ’s appointment to his office came from the anointing of the Father and that there is a twofold revelation of this installation, one in redemptive history (at his baptism) and one before the foundations of the world. Downame further defines the origins of Christ’s office in terms of the Father’s donation of gifts and graces, or his anointing, as well as “Gods everlasting decree.” As Muller notes, Downame does not invoke the pactum salutis but all of the requisite pieces of the puzzle appear. And we also find in Downame’s exposition a brief explanation of how an ontologically equal second person of the trinity is economically subordinate to the first person.47 Another example of a compact presentation of the substance of the pactum salutis without invoking the technical term appears in William Ames’s Marrow of Theology. In his discussion of the office of Christ, Ames explains that Christ did not appoint himself to his role but was called (Heb. 5:4–5). Ames, unlike Downame, does explicitly invoke the idea of a covenant to explain Christ’s calling, but his elaboration of this idea is at best seminal and not a full-blown exposition of the pactum salutis. Ames explains that Christ was bound to his office by way of a special covenant (pactum), which is expressed in Isaiah 53:10, “When thou shalt make his soul an offering for sin, he shall see his seed, he shall prolong his days, and the pleasure of the Lord shall prosper in his hand.” According to Ames, “This calling therefore contains choosing, foreordaining, and sending” (Isa. 42:1; 1 Pet. 1:20; John 3:17; John 6:27; 10:36; Isa. 61:1; Psa. 45:7; Heb. 1:9; John 3:16). Ames makes repeated reference to the fact that Christ was appointed and his work was accomplished by the foreordained plan of God (Luke 22:22; Acts 4:28) and that Christ’s appointment was sealed with the Father’s oath (Psa. 110:4; Heb. 5:6; 7:24). Ames presents these points in a succinct seven paragraphs and then moves on to discuss the threefold office of Christ.48 A similar pattern appears in The Marrow of Modern Divinity (1645), a work attributed to Edward Fisher (fl. 1627–55) and commended by Joseph Caryl (1602–73), a Westminster divine.49 Fisher’s work provides a window into both an early statement of the doctrine as well as some of the sources that fed into its development. In the Marrow, Fisher sets forth his exposition in terms of a dia46 Downame, Summe of Sacred Divinitie, II.i (pp. 280–81). 47 Muller, “Towards the Pactum Salutis,” 58. 48 William Ames, The Marrow of Theology, trans. John Dykstra Eusden (1968; Grand Rapids: Baker, 1997), I.xix.3–9; idem, Medulla S. S. Theologiae: Ex Sacris literis, earumque interpretibus, extracta, & methodice disposita (London: Robert Allot, 1630). 49 Edward Fisher, The Marrow of Modern Divinity (London: R. W. for G. Calvert, 1645).

The doctrine’s birth and refinement

43

logue between Neophyte, Nomista, and Evangelista. Fisher places the following question on the lips of Neophyte: “Did the Lord purpose from all eternity to helpe and deliver fallen mankind, say you?” Evangelista’s response takes Neophyte on a tour of the revealed counsel of God by recognizing the two things that had to be effected in order to bring about the redemption of fallen humanity: (1) a satisfaction of God’s justice and (2) a reparation of man’s nature. The only way this twofold remedy can be accomplished, argues Fisher, is through “a middle common person.” This common person would have to bear the burden of the fallen sinner’s guilt as well as have the fullness of God’s Spirit and holiness in him. Hence, the person could be no one else but Jesus Christ, one of the members of the blessed trinity. Fisher explains: “Therefore he, by his Fathers ordination, his own voluntary susception, and the holy Spirits sanctification, was fitted for the businesse.” This intra-trinitarian activity takes place within a mutual covenant: “And thus was Justice satisfied, and Mercy magnified by the Lord Jesus Christ: whereupon there was a special Covenant, or mutuall agreement made betwixt God and Christ, as is expressed Isa. 53.10.” Fisher also draws upon Psalm 89:19, which speaks of God’s covenant with David. Fisher comments: “The mercies of this Covenant made betwixt Christ and God, under the type of Gods Covenant with David, are in forth: Thou spakest in vision to thy holy one and saidst, I have laid help upon one that mighty.”50 As interesting as Fisher’s theological and exegetical argumentation is, the sources that he cites in support of his claim for this intra-trinitarian covenant are equally noteworthy. The five names he cites are Westminster divine Edward Reynolds (1599–1676), Calvin, Thomas Hooker (1586–1647), Ames, Thomas Goodwin (1600–80), and David Pareus (1548–1622). The first work that Fisher cites is Reynolds’1632 work on Psalm 110. He appeals to Reynolds to substantiate the fact that humanity’s sin-fallen estate can only be remedied by the satisfaction of God’s justice and reparation of man’s nature.51 The proximate and ultimate context of Fisher’s appeal to Reynolds is noteworthy. In the immediate context Reynolds discusses the immutability of the covenant of grace and the fact that Christ’s priesthood was secured through the sworn oath of the Father, which originated in the immutable decree and counsel of God.52 In the broader context of his treatment of Psalm 110, which is a key text frequently cited in support of the pactum salutis, Reynolds argues that the whole of the Psalm is about “the Ordination of Christ unto his kingdome.”53 Reynolds explains that Christ re50 Fisher, Marrow, 35–36. 51 Fisher, Marrow, 35; Edward Reynolds, An Explication of the Hundredth and Tenth Psalme (London: Felix Kingston, 1632), 407. 52 Reynolds, Explication, 384. 53 Reynolds, Explication, 5.

44

Historical Origins

ceives his kingdom, “not by usurpation, intrusion, or violence, but legally, by order, decree, investiture from his Father.”54 And like the cited discussion from Voetius, where the Dutchman appealed to the earlier debates among the church fathers and medieval theologians over the nature of Christ’s economic subordination to the Father, Reynolds distinguishes between the ontological and economic functions of Christ: But wee must here distinguish between Regnum naturale, Christ’s natural Kingdom which belongeth unto him as God coessentiall, and coeternall with his Father: and Regnum oeconomicum, his Dispensatory Kingdom, as he is Christ the Mediator, which was his, not by Nature, but by Donation and unction from his Father, that hee might be the Head of his Church, a Prince of peace & a King of Righteousnesse unto his people.55

Reynolds reflects earlier discussions on the relationship between the ontological and economic trinity, and he coalesces these ideas under Christ’s appointment as mediator. Fisher undoubtedly saw these elements and incorporated them into his own formulation of the intra-trinitarian covenant. Fisher appeals to Calvin and Hooker to substantiate the idea that Christ voluntarily offered to obey his Father’s will and pay the price of satisfaction.56 He calls upon Ames’s interpretation of Isaiah 53:10 as exegetical evidence of the existence of a covenant between God and Christ. And he cites Goodwin’s idea regarding the typology that exists between Christ and the unfolding plan of redemption.57 Fisher invokes Pareus and his comments on Psalm 40:7–8, where the latter argues that the Psalmist’s statements are in effect a dialogue between the Father and the Son: “Then said I, Lo, I come: in the volume of the book it is written of me, I delight to do thy will, O my God: yea, thy law is within my heart.”58 Regarding this dialogue between the Father and the Son Fisher comments: “Thus Christ consented, and from everlasting stroke hands with God, to doe all for man that he should require, and undertook it under the penalty that lay upon man to have undergone; and so God took Christs single bond, whence Christ is not only called the Surety of the Covenant for us, but the Covenant it selfe Isa. 49.8.”59 This brings us full-circle to the writings of David Dickson, the one who first offered a full-orbed explanation of the doctrine. In the Summe of Saving Knowledge, which has been attributed to Dickson and fellow Scottish theologian

54 Reynolds, Explication, 6. 55 Reynolds, Explication, 6–7. 56 Fisher, cites Calvin’s Institutes, p. 117 (Marrow, 36); Thomas Hooker, The Soules Justification, on 2 Cor. 5:21, in The Soules Exaltation (London: John Haviland, 1638), 178. 57 Fisher, Marrow, 36; Thomas Goodwin, Christ Set Forth (London: n. p. 1642), III.i (p. 76); Ames, Marrow of Theology, I.xix.5. 58 Fisher, Marrow, 37. 59 Fisher, Marrow, 37.

Conclusion

45

James Durham (1622–58), this summary of the teaching of the Westminster Standards defines the pactum salutis in the following manner: The sum of the Covenant of Redemption is this, God having freely chosen unto life, a certain number of lost mankind, for the glory of his rich Grace did give them before the world began, unto God the Son appointed Redeemer, that upon condition he would humble himself so far as to assume the humane nature of a soul and body, unto personal union with his Divine Nature, and submit himself to the Law as surety for them, and satisfie Justice for them, by giving obedience in their name, even unto the suffering of the cursed death of the Cross, he should ransom and redeem them all from sin and death, and purchase unto them righteousness and eternal life, with all saving graces leading thereunto, to be effectually, by means of his own appointment, applied in due time to every one of them.60

All of the previously discussed elements (election, christology, the foundation of soteriology) appear under the rubric of the pactum salutis. The covenant of redemption not only accounts for Christ’s appointment as mediator but also his incarnation, obedience to the law, satisfaction, and the application of his work to the elect. Also, Dickson and Durham carefully distinguish between the covenant of redemption in eternity and the application of its benefits to the elect in the covenant of grace.61

1.7

Conclusion

Thus far in our investigation we can conclude the following about the rise and development of the pactum salutis. While the term itself and its variants may be a relatively late historical development, the substantive issues date back to the earliest days of the church: namely, how should we account for the complete ontological equality of the Son of God in light of numerous statements in Scripture that indicate that he is in some sense subordinate to his Father? Early answers to this question resorted to the distinction between the ontological and economic trinity and the Son’s appointment to his mediatory office by the Father. But early sixteenth-century references to a covenant between the Father and Son, the refined exegesis of texts such as Luke 22:29, and the coordination of christology and covenant, led to the development and rise of the doctrine of the pactum salutis. As theologians returned to the original biblical languages, exegesis was further refined and consequently interpretations of key texts were adjusted to accommodate the new information. It would be unfair to say that the 60 The Summe of Saving Knowledge, With the Practical use thereof (Edinburgh: George Swintoun, and Thomas Brown, n. d.), II.ii. 61 Summe of Saving Knowledge, II.iii.

46

Historical Origins

pactum salutis is a doctrinal innovation per se. Rather, theologians merely adjusted the focus of their exegetical camera lens, which brought certain theological details into sharper focus.

2.

Seventeenth-Century England and Scotland

2.1

Introduction

The pactum salutis had its first full-fledged explanation in David Dickson’s (1583–1663) speech before the Scottish Kirk’s General Assembly of 1638, but it did not take long for theologians in England and Scotland to adopt the doctrinal formulation. Within a few decades numerous Reformed theologians embraced the concept and argued for the legitimacy of the doctrine. For the most part, many of the expositions of the pactum salutis occupy brief sections in broader theological works, either in bodies of divinity or works on the doctrine of the covenants. Edward Leigh (1602–71), for example, embraces the pactum salutis but only devotes one brief paragraph to outline the basic points of the doctrine.1 By far the largest and most extensive treatment of the doctrine appears in Patrick Gillespie’s (1617–75) Ark of the Covenant, which is a work devoted solely to the pactum salutis.2 Gillespie’s work stands as one of two monographs on the pactum salutis in the early modern period, though it is actually the second half of a twopart work.3 Given its size and exhaustive nature, Gillespie’s work is the natural choice for examination to showcase a seventeenth-century iteration of the doctrine.4 This chapter will focus, therefore, on Gillespie’s exposition of the 1 Edward Leigh, A Systeme or Body of Divinity: Consisting of Ten Books (London: William Lee, 1662), V.ii (p. 546). 2 Patrick Gillespie, The Ark of the Covenant Opened: Or, a Treatise of the Covenant of Redemption Between God and Christ, as the Foundation of the Covenant of Grace. The Second Part (London: Thomas Parkhurst, 1677). 3 Patrick Gillespie, The Ark of the Testament Opened, or, The secret of the Lords Covenant unsealed, in a Treatise of the Covenant of Grace. Part I (London: R. C., 1681). Note, this first part of Gillespie’s work was originally written in 1660. The only other monograph I have discovered is that of Samuel Willard (1640–1707), The Doctrine of the Covenant of Redemption (Boston: Benjamin Harris, 1693). 4 For a broad overview of Gillespie’s doctrine, see Carl R. Trueman, “The Harvest of Reformation Mythology? Patrick Gillespie and the Covenant of Redemption,” in Scholasticism Reformed: Essay in Honour of Willem J. van Asselt, ed. Maarten Wisse / Marcel Sarot / Willemien Otten (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 196–214.

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Seventeenth-Century England and Scotland

pactum salutis but will make recourse to other English and Scottish theologians of the period to contextualize his doctrine. In other words, Gillespie’s doctrine will provide the structure or the skeleton, and other Scottish and English theologians will provide the muscles and tendons to create a representative portrait of the pactum salutis in seventeenth-century England and Scotland. The chapter will examine Gillespie’s understanding of the doctrine by first looking at his definition of a covenant. Second, it will explain Gillespie’s definition of the doctrine and the exegetical support he cites. Third, the chapter will cover the specific elements of the covenant. Fourth, it will explore some critical issues related to his explanation: 1. The role of the Holy Spirit. 2. The differences between the pactum and covenant of grace. 3. The motivating impulse of the pactum. 4. Connections to revelation. 5. Incarnation, union with Christ, and communion. 6. Justification and imputation. Fifth, and last, the chapter concludes with observations regarding the nature of the pactum salutis in seventeenth-century England and Scotland.

2.2

Definition of a covenant

In the first part of his massive two-volume work on the covenants of grace and redemption, Gillespie explains the general nature of a biblical covenant by identifying six common elements: 1. That there are at least two parties. 2. The very essence of a covenant is that it is an agreement. “Concord and agreement is the very foundation of all Contracts, where no agreement is betwixt parties, there is no Covenant, and if there be a Covenant, there is an agreement” (Amos 3:3; 2 Cor. 6:14). 3. The covenant must have mutual conditions, something that each of the parties promises to perform. There are different types of covenants, which means there are different types of conditions. Covenants of favor do not have the same types of conditions as covenants of justice. And equal covenants do not have the same conditions as unequal covenants. 4. Covenants have mutual obligations. 5. Covenants have the mutual edification of the two parties.

Definition of a covenant

49

6. Lawful covenants, both divine and human, are binding and therefore inviolable.5 These six traits are characteristic of biblical covenants in general. But Gillespie carefully explains the specific nature of the different types of covenants. In a covenant of justice, for example, there is a strict quid pro quo, “I give this, or do this in contemplation or your doing or giving some thing for anent [sic] it” (Gen. 23:15–16; Jer. 32:10; Jdg. 17:20ff). Covenants of favor, on the other hand, are not based in strict justice but are rooted in favor and love, such as large grants of privileges. Examples of covenants of favor include that between David and Jonathan (1 Sam. 18:3) or the new covenant ( Jer. 31:3; Ezek. 16:1–8; Eph. 5:25).6 Gillespie carefully elaborates the specifics of the different types of covenants by enumerating nine different distinctions. Covenants may be distinguished according to the: 1. Parties (God and man, man and man, man and the devil, e. g.). 2. Subject matter (civil, sacred, or mixed). 3. Extent (public, i. e., between nations, God and the whole creation, God and man). 4. Annexes, adjuncts, and accidents. 5. Nature (strictly a covenant or figuratively). 6. Terms and conditions and whether the parties are equals. 7. Influences (real, or hereditary, or personal, namely, that the covenant only affects the specific covenanted individuals). 8. Predominant influence (i. e., is it a covenant of favor or justice). 9. Contents (i. e., the scope and ends of a covenant).7 Gillespie substantiates all of these distinctions with careful attention to numerous biblical texts to support his arguments. In other words, he does not arbitrarily impose a preconceived idea or definition of the covenant concept upon the text.8 But the most significant element of Gillespie’s general survey of the covenant concept is his fundamental definition. Namely, at its core a covenant is an agreement under conditions with mutual obligations between two parties. Such a definition is completely in line with other theologians of the period and frequently arises from biblical exegesis of passages such as Isaiah 28:15: “We have made a covenant with death, and with hell are we at agreement.”9 Francis Roberts 5 6 7 8

Gillespie, Ark of the Testament, I.ii (pp. 49–51). Gillespie, Ark of the Testament, I.ii (p. 70). Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, I.ii (pp. 61–70). Contra James B. Torrance, “Covenant or Contract? A Study of the Theological Background of Worship in Seventeenth-Century Scotland,” SJT 23 (1970): 51–76. 9 See, e. g., Augustin Marlorat, A Catholic Exposition Upon the Revelation of Saint John (London:

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(1609–75), for example, defines a covenant in the following manner: “The Nature of a Covenant consists in their mutual agreement: And agreement is concluded, upon suitableness of mutual obligations.”10 Such a definition was common in British theology as early as William Perkins.11 Thomas Goodwin (1600–80) similarly writes: “A Covenant (we know) is an agreement between two parties upon Terms.”12 Gillespie’s definition of a covenant, an agreement with obligations and stipulations, naturally informs his understanding of the pactum salutis.

2.3

The pactum salutis and its scriptural support

Critics of the pactum salutis have sometimes alleged that the doctrine originated from the improper exegesis of Zechariah 6:13, “Even he shall build the temple of the Lord; and he shall bear the glory, and shall sit and rule upon his throne; and he shall be a priest upon his throne: and the counsel of peace shall be between them both.” Critics argue that the “counsel of peace” between “them both,” is not between Yahweh and Christ but between the priestly and kingly offices, which are manifest in the one mediator.13 If contemporary critics sit in the judge’s seat, then yes, Gillespie is guilty for citing this disputed text: “There is a consent and agreement betwixt God and Christ about this very thing, which amounteth to a Paction, Zech. 6.13, The Lord speaking of that ineffable mysterious Oeconomy and dispensation of the business of man’s Redemption and Salvation, as the same is transacted in the counsel of God’s Will; biddeth him tell us, that the counsel of

10 11 12 13

Henrie Binneman, 1574), comm. Rev. 21:2 (p. 284); Lambert Daneau, A Fruitful Commentary Upon the Twelve Small Prophets (Cambridge: Universitie of Cambridge, 1594), comm. Amos 9:10 (p. 331); William Perkins, The whole treatise of the cases of conscience, distinguished into three bookes, in The Workes of that famous and worthy ministry of Christ, in the Universitie of Cambridge, Mr. William Perkins (London: John Legatt, 1617), II.i (p. 51); Giovanni Diodati, Pious Annotations Upon the Holy Bible (London: Nicolas Fussell, 1651), comm. Lev. 24:8; William Ames, The Marrow of Theology, trans. John Eusden Dykstra (1968; Grand Rapids: Baker, 1997), XXIV.xiv (p. 151); John Davenant, A Dissertation on the Death of Christ, in An Exposition of the Epistle of St. Paul to the Colossians (London: Hamilton, Adams, and Co., 1831), 364; John Preston, The New Covenant or The Saints Portion (London: Nicolas Bourne, 1639), 220. Francis Roberts, Mysterium & medulla bibliorum. The Mysterie and Marrow of the Bible (London: George Calvert, 1657), III.iv (p. 857). See, e. g., Richard A. Muller, “Divine Covenants, Absolute and Conditional: John Cameron and the Early Orthodox Development of Reformed Covenant Theology,” MAJT 17 (2006): 22– 23. Thomas Goodwin, An Exposition of the First, and Part of the Second Chapter, of the Epistle to the Ephesians, in The works of Thomas Goodwin, D. D. sometime president of Magdalen College in Oxford (London: T. G., 1681), serm. V (p. 63). See, e. g., Herman Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, 4 vols. (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2006), III:213.

The pactum salutis and its scriptural support

51

peace shall be between them both; to wit, between the Lord of Hosts, and the man whose name is the Branch, v. 12.”14 In support of his exegesis Gillespie cites William Pemble (1591–1623) and Johannes Cocceius (1603–69). Pemble engages a number of different views offered by Rabbi David Kimchi (1160–1235), Roman Catholic theologian Gaspar Sanctius (1553–1628), and Francis Junius (1545–1602), and argues that the agreement is between the priestly and kingly offices as they reside in the one person of Christ.15 Whereas Cocceius argues that the consilium pacis (“counsel of peace”) is between the Lord and the Branch. In Cocceius’s reading this text points to a covenant between the Father and the Son in which he emptied himself by taking the form of a man, was made under the law, and by the grace of God tasted death for all. For this reason Zechariah calls him the Lord’s servant, and God has promised the kingdom to his people through his servant’s work.16 The point we should note is that Gillespie does not arbitrarily impose the intra-trinitarian covenant upon the text but considers a number of different interpretive options. But Gillespie’s case for the pactum salutis does not rest upon this one text but upon a myriad of texts. It is impossible to weigh each and every quotation and citation in this overview. We can, however, explore several of his scriptural arguments beyond Zechariah 6:13 to demonstrate Gillespie’s careful attention to the biblical text. One such passage is Psalm 2:7, “I will declare the decree: the Lord hath said unto me, Thou art my Son; this day have I begotten thee.” Gillespie argues that this text declares the sonship of Christ, but the word “today” should not be understood as referring to an eternal day and thereby addressing the doctrine of the eternal generation of the Son. Rather, the word “today” refers to Christ’s “new Sonship for the work of Redemption, whereby he voluntarily became the first born of many brethren, and an obedient Son even unto death, Phil. 2:8; and whereby he consented to take a new Covenant-right unto God, as his Father, and his God by Covenant, Heb. 1.5,—I will be to him a father, and he shall be to me a son.”17 Gillespie does not arbitrarily insert the covenant idea into Psalm 2:7. Rather, after careful linguistic analysis he comes to this conclusion. Gillespie explains that the declaration of Psalm 2:7, “I will tell of the decree,” is actually a reference to a covenant. According to his linguistic analysis, Gillespie argues that the term decree (‫ )חק‬comes from a root that originally meant to write, 14 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 7. 15 William Pemble, An Exposition Upon the Prophesie of Zecharie, comm. 6:13, in The Workes of that Late Learned Minister of God’s Holy Word, Mr William Pemble (Oxford: Henry Hall, 1659), 431. Pemble does not provide a specific title, but the work is most likely Gaspar Sanctius’s (Sanchez), 1621 Commentarius in Prophetas Minores. 16 Johannes Cocceius, Summa Doctrinae de Foedere & Testamento Dei, V.88, in Opera Omnia, vol. 7 (Amsterdam: 1701), 60. 17 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 8.

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engrave, ordain, appoint, and covenant. To make his point, Gillespie cites a number of lexical authorities. He also appeals to the Chaldee paraphrase of the OT, which renders the text as recitabo pactum, “I will tell of the covenant.” Gillespie notes that the Septuagint renders the phrase as πρόσταγμα, which translates as order or agreement. According to a number of interpreters ancient Targums (paraphrases of the OT) render the term as pact or covenant. And citing Johannes Buxtorf, Sr. (1564–1629), Gillespie notes: “Tis observed by a great Hebrean, that this word among the Talmudists is often put for the quality, condition, or nature of any thing; and if so, here ‘tis the nature, quality and condition of God’s decretal Covenant with Christ.”18 But Gillespie’s analysis does not rest merely upon lexical and linguistic work alone. Gillespie draws attention to the fact that the Hebrew term ‫ חק‬has great affinity with a number of terms, including statute, decree, agreement, pact, covenant, and others, and that it is promiscuously tied to the Hebrew synonym for covenant (‫)ברית‬. He draws attention to two texts: Thus saith the Lord, which giveth the sun for a light by day, and the ordinances [‫ ]חקה‬of the moon and of the stars for a light by night, which divideth the sea when the waves thereof roar; The Lord of hosts is his name: If those ordinances [‫ ]חק‬depart from before me, saith the Lord, then the seed of Israel also shall cease from being a nation before me for ever ( Jer. 31:35–36). Thus saith the Lord; If ye can break my covenant [‫ ]ברית‬of the day, and my covenant [‫ ]ברית‬of the night, and that there should not be day and night in their season ( Jer. 33:20).

Gillespie explains, “In both which places God’s Ordinance and Covenant with the day and the night is spoken of, to illustrate the stability of his Covenant with his people in Christ, and there you will find the words ‫ חק‬and ‫ ברית‬Statute or Ordinance and Covenant, promiscuously used.” He continues to write: “And the same thing which is called God’s Ordinance of the day and night, or the Sun and Moon, Jer. 31.35,36. is called his Covenant with the day, and his Covenant with the night.” Gillespie also points out that the Chaldee paraphrase in both of these places renders these different Hebrew terms as pactum and pacta, paction or covenant, and the Syriac translates these terms as administrations.19 Based upon this analysis, Gillespie contends that Psalm 2:7 reveals the covenant between the Father and the Son, which was hidden in ages past but then subsequently revealed (Psa. 25:14; Col. 1:26). Concerning the phrase, “The Lord said unto me, thou art my Son—ask of me, etc.” he argues: “God said to Christ, or made this Proposal to him, thou art the only fit person for undertaking this work 18 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 11; cf. Johann Buxtorf, Sr., ed., Lexicon Chaldaicum, Talmudicum et Rabbinicum (Basel: Ludovici König, 1639), col. 818. 19 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 12.

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of Man’s Redemption, and I destinate and appoint thee for it: Now therefore ask, and have the noblest rewards that can be devised, only do the work.”20 Zechariah 6:13 and Psalm 2:7 are just two out of a number of texts that Gillespie cites to substantiate the case for the existence of a covenant between the Father and the Son. We can briefly explore some of the other passages that he cites to support the claim that Christ consented to his Father’s covenantal proposals. One of the chief texts is Psalm 40:6–8, “Sacrifice and offering thou didst not desire; mine ears hast thou opened: burnt offering and sin offering hast thou not required. Then said I, Lo, I come: in the volume of the book it is written of me, I delight to do thy will, O my God: yea, thy law is within my heart.” This text presents a number of elements that confirm Christ’s consent to the Father’s proposals. First, the apostle makes Christ to be the speaker, not David (Heb. 10:5). Christ offers his body for sacrifice. Second, clearly Christ speaks these words to his Father (Heb. 10:7, 9). And third, Christ’s words presuppose that the Father spoke and propounded something to Christ, hence these words are Christ’s response.21 Gillespie appeals to a number of texts that appear to be one half of a dialogue where Christ is either explicitly or implicitly the one who is talking. He notes that Christ’s words in Psalm 40, “Lo I come,” echo a series of other texts where servants like Isaiah and Samuel positively offer their consent and readiness to obey the call of God (Isa. 6:8; 1 Sam. 3:10). “Mine ear hast thou opened, or bored,” is a likely allusion to the Law of God (Deut. 15:12–17; Exo. 21:6) where servants were freed after six years of service. The prophet Isaiah connects such ideas to Christ, “The Lord God hath opened mine ear, and I was not rebellious, neither turned away back” (Isa. 50:5). When Psalm 40 states, “A body thou hast prepared me,” Gillespie appeals to another “perspicuous interpretation of the opening of the ear.” He argues that the principal end of the incarnation was “that he might be found in the form of a Servant, to obey and do the will of his father, as one who by his own consent was nailed and pinned to his Service in the work of Redemption” (Phil. 2:7–8).22 All of Gillespie’s exegetical spadework to prove the existence of the pactum salutis rests on several key pillars. First, in the absence of an explicit statement in Scripture, Reformed theologians relied upon the principle of good and necessary consequence. A good and necessary consequence was not an exercise in placing logic and Scripture in the balance and waiting until the scales tipped in favor of reason. Rather, the principle was an exercise in the doctrine of the analogia Scripturae, Scripture interpreting Scripture. Theologians collated various texts 20 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 11. 21 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 13–14. 22 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 15.

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and sought to explain how they all fit together.23 In this particular case Gillespie takes texts that specifically mention a covenant (e. g., Zech. 6:13; Psa. 2:7) and collates them with other texts that demonstrate that Christ willingly undertook the work of redemption (e. g., Psa. 40). Second, typology plays an important role in Gillespie’s hermeneutics. Specific texts may mention figures such as Joshua the high priest or king David, but they find their antitype in the person and work of Christ. Third, and finally, the existence of an intra-trinitarian covenant rests upon Gillespie’s definition of a covenant. Gillespie juxtaposes two texts, Psalm 40:6, “Sacrifice and offering thou didst not desire,” and Isaiah 53:10, “Yet it please the Lord to bruise him, he hath put him to grief; when thou shalt make his soul an offering for sin.” The first text reveals the Son’s willing obedience and the second text uncovers the Father’s desire to make his Son “an offering for sin.” Gillespie writes: “Consider the answer Christ gives here, how it amounts unto a plenary consent and agreement unto the will and proposal of his father unto him, which is a Covenant of Redemption or Suretiship, i. e. that he will undertake and do the work of our Redemption, according to his fathers will.”24 The same pattern of exegetical and theological analysis to support the idea of the existence of the pactum salutis appears in English and Scottish expositions of the doctrine, such as those written by Thomas Goodwin, Samuel Rutherford (1600–61), Peter Bulkeley (1583–1659), Thomas Blake (1597–1657), James Durham (1622–58), Obadiah Sedgwick (ca. 1600–58), Thomas Brooks (1608–80), John Owen (1616– 80), John Flavel (1627–91), and David Dickson.25 An exception to this pattern 23 George Gillespie, A Treatise of Miscellany Questions Wherein Many Useful Questions and Cases of Conscience are Discussed and Resolved (Edinburgh: Gideon Lithgow, 1649), XX (pp. 239–44); cf. B. B. Warfield, “The Westminster Doctrine of Holy Scripture,” in The Works of Benjamin B. Warfield, vol. 6 (1931; Grand Rapids: Baker, 1981), 226; Muller, PRRD, II:499; C. J. Williams, “Good and Necessary Consequence in the Westminster Confession,” in The Faith Once Delivered, ed. Anthony T. Selvaggio (Phillipsburg: P & R, 2007), 171–90. 24 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 14. 25 See, e. g., Thomas Goodwin, Christ the Mediator, in The Works of Thomas Goodwin, vol. 5 (1861–66; Eureka: Tanski Publications, 1996), I.vii–viii (pp. 20–27); Samuel Rutherford, The Covenant of Life Opened: Or, a Treatise of the Covenant of Grace (Edinburgh: Robert Brown, 1654), II.vi (pp. 290–302); Peter Bulkeley, The Gospel Covenant Opened (Cambridge: Thomas Parkhurst, 1674), IV (pp. 31–36); Thomas Blake, Vindicae Foederis; or, A Treatise of the Covenant of God Entered with Man-kinde, Second ed. (London: Abel Roper, 1658), IV (pp. 13–19); James Durham, Christ Crucified: or, The Marrow of the Gospel, Evidently holden forth in LXXII Sermons, on the whole 53 Chapter of Isaiah (Edinburgh: Andrew Anderson, 1683), serm. XXIII (pp. 156–59); Obadiah Sedgwick, The Bowels of Tender mercy Sealed in the Everlasting Covenant (London: Adoniram Byfield, 1661), I.i.2 (pp. 3–4); Thomas Brooks, Paradise Opened, in The Complete Works of Thomas Brooks, vol. 5 (Edinburgh: James Nichol, 1867), 320–94; John Owen, “Exercitation XXVIII: Federal Transactions Between the Father and the Son,” in Works of John Owen, vol. 19, ed. W. H. Goold (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1862), 77–97; John Flavel, The Fountain of Life Opened Up, in The Whole Works of the Rev. Mr. John

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appears when theologians merely restate or outline the doctrine. In the case of Anthony Burgess (1600–63), John Brinsley (1600–65), John Arrowsmith (1602– 59), or John Brown of Wamphrey (ca. 1610–79), they assume the doctrine rather than defend or explain it.26 But even when making brief statements of the doctrine, theologians such as Edward Leigh cite numerous texts to support it.27

2.4

The specific properties and elements of the pactum salutis

2.4.1 Elements Gillespie elaborates the specifics of this covenant after he gives a brief definition: “This is an eternal transaction and agreement between Jehovah and the Mediator Christ, about the work of our Redemption.”28 He then divides his exposition into two separate issues: (1) the various eternal acts of the will of God that constitute this covenant, and (2) the distinction and order of these eternal acts. Gillespie raises the issue of the necessity of God seeking satisfaction for his justice, and as such, the first consideration is the designation of a person to accomplish the work of redemption. Citing 1 Peter 1:20, Gillespie notes that the Son, not the Father or the Spirit, was set apart for this work. In another portion of his work Gillespie argues that the Son was best suited for this work on account of his role in the creation. In a word, Christ made the world (Heb. 1:2; John 1:3; Acts 3:21). But beyond this Gillespie appeals to the order of the intra-trinitarian divine processions as reason for the Son’s appointment to the office of mediator. The Father is the first person and fountain of divine operations, and as such he operates by and through the Son, and the Father and Son work through the Holy Spirit. Gillespie argues, “Our Mediator must be a person who must give satisfaction to the Father for us, and who must be able to send the Spirit for our sanctification.” Another consideration lies in the fact that Adam was created in the image of God and was a son of God. Hence, who better to restore humanity’s image and sonship than the Son of God, who is the only

Flavel, vol. 1 (London: W. Baynes and Son, 1820), serm. III (pp. 52–62); David Dickson, A Brief Explication of the Psalms, vol. 1 (Glasgow: John Down, 1834), comm. Psa. 2:7 (pp. 6–8). 26 Anthony Burgess, The True Doctrine of Justification Asserted, and Vindicated (London: Robert White, 1647), serm. XXXVII (pp. 375–77); John Brinsley, The One and Onely Mediatour Betwixt God and Men, the Man Jesus (London: Tho. Maxey, 1651), 63; John Arrowsmith, Armilla Catechetica (Cambridge: John Field, 1659), aphr. V (pp. 283–84); John Brown of Wamphrey, The Life of Justification Opened (n.p.: 1695), 530–31. 27 E. g., Leigh, Body of Divinity, V.ii (p. 546). 28 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 50.

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begotten and express image of God (Col 1:15; Heb. 1:13)? The Spirit, for example, is not the image of God.29 The second element of the covenant of redemption is the preparation of the person set apart to take the “law-place” of those who have broken the covenant of works. God therefore decreed that the Son should be Immanuel, God with us, and God made manifest in the flesh (Isa. 7:14; 1 Tim. 3:16). More specifically, Gillespie appeals to Hebrews 10:5, “A body has thou prepared me” (cf. Psa. 40:6). Third, the pactum salutis required the calling of the designated mediator. Gillespie therefore argues that Christ was called to the work of redemption by an eternal act of God’s will (Psa. 89:19; Isa. 42:6; Heb. 5:5). Fourth, the pactum required the investiture of the mediator with the requisite offices, powers, and authority.30 By an eternal act of the triune God, though it is primarily attributed to the Father, Christ was invested with the offices of prophet, priest, and king.31 In addition to his offices, he was invested with the requisite powers, which in this case entailed the endowment of the Holy Spirit. The Spirit would grant to Christ the “endowments, and habitual furniture which was necessary unto the man Christ, for performing this great work” (Isa. 11:2–4). This means that Christ’s human nature would be sanctified and infused with habitual grace from the initial point of his conception (Luke 1:35; Heb. 7:26; Psalm 45:2, 7).32 In connection with Psalm 45:2, 7, Gillespie explains: “There his unction with the Holy Ghost, and graces of the Spirit, compared to oyl (which in regard of its nature refresheth and maketh fit for use; and in regard of its use was imployed for figuring and signifying mens fitness for the calling), is extolled comparatively, comparing it with the unction of believers; a large effusion of the Spirit was upon him after an extraordinary measure and manner” ( John. 3:34).33 The fifth and final element of the pactum was the Son’s mission: “Christ designed, fitted, called, invested for this work, was also by an eternal act in the counsel of God, sent to do this work.” Gillespie cites a number of texts in support of this claim including Hebrews 10:7, John 6:39 and 10:18, Isaiah 53:12, and Psalm 40:6.34 On this point Gillespie returns to the question of how the Son, who is equal with the Father, relates to him as the God-man: But in all of these [Heb. 10:7; John 6:39, 10:18], we do not so much multiply the distinction of acts, as we take notice of the distinction and difference of Phrase used by the Holy Ghost, speaking of this mysterie in the Scriptures. Upon the other part, there concurred unto this agreement, an eternal personal consent and compliance upon 29 30 31 32 33 34

Gillespie, Ark of Gillespie, Ark of Gillespie, Ark of Gillespie, Ark of Gillespie, Ark of Gillespie, Ark of

the Covenant, 190. the Covenant, 52. the Covenant, 175. the Covenant, 96, also 201. the Covenant, 221, also 223–29. the Covenant, 53.

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Christ’s part, unto all these eternal acts of the will of God; for Christ God, equal with the Father, does not begin to consent and agree unto any thing in time; nor can the eternal Son of God will any thing in time, which he did not will and consent unto from eternity. But Christ was present with the Father, and did from eternity consent and agree to these eternal acts.35

Gillespie regularly distinguishes between the ontological and economic trinity, or in other terms, the trinitarian processions and missions. After he sets forth these five elements of the pactum, Gillespie then addresses the order in which they should be considered. He offers several cautious observations because he knows how challenging it is to discuss the decrees of God. Finite human beings must tread carefully when they attempt to explain the infinite God. Given the creator-creature distinction, Gillespie acknowledges that God’s decree is the most pure and simple act of his will, and hence it is one. This means that this eternal act and transaction with Christ is therefore one. The only way for human beings to discuss this multifaceted decree is to distinguish and discuss each element in a logical fashion. Drawing upon the sentiment of William Twisse (1578–1646), the moderator of the Westminster Assembly, Gillespie agrees with the idea that, what is first in God’s intention is last in execution, and what is last in intention is first in execution.36 Gillespie stipulates, however, that when theologians speak of the order of these different eternal acts, only the “order of nature” (ordo naturae) is intended. In other words, “We mean only the order of Nature, and which of these acts are to be conceived by us antecendaneous to the rest in that respect; for there is no order of time, nor priority nor posteriority of that kind among the decrees of God, and acts of his will, which are all eternal.”37 Gillespie then offers the following order of eternal acts that constitute the eternal transaction between Yahweh and the mediator: (1) that the covenant of redemption made with Christ supposes other eternal acts of the will of God that concern the salvation of humanity by way of satisfaction of the law’s demands; (2) that the idea of the designation, calling, and eternal mission of the Son must logically precede the Son’s actual designation, calling, and agreement. Based upon these two observations, Gillespie opines: “I do not see why we may not fitly conceive of them in this order, designing, calling, fitting, investing, sending of Christ; these were the eternal acts of the will of God.”38

35 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 52–53. 36 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 55; cf. e. g., William Twisse, Vindiciae Gratiae, Potestatis, ac Providentiae Dei (Amsterdam: apud Ioannem Ianssonium, 1632), 70, 109, 112, 124. 37 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 54. 38 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 56.

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2.4.2 Properties Gillespie offers six key properties for the pactum salutis beyond the specific texts that he cites to establish its existence, which are freedom, graciousness, eternity, equality, order, and stability. First, the pactum salutis is an expression of sovereign freedom between both the Father and the Son. The Father could have chosen to act according to strict justice with a view to the violation of the covenant of works but instead freely chose to send a savior to suffer on behalf of fallen humanity. Conversely, Christ freely and willingly became the redeemer and covenant surety. Gillespie illustrates Christ’s freedom by comparing his role as the second Adam with the first. Adam could neither withdraw from nor deny subjection to the covenant of works any more than he could somehow extract himself from the law of nature. Christ, however, was under no obligation to become the second Adam. To support this argument Gillespie cites Ephesians 1:5–9, Colossians 1:19, Philippians 2:6–8.39 Elsewhere in his work Gillespie argues that the pactum salutis was hypothetically necessary, which highlights the freedom of this pre-temporal covenant. Gillespie argues that the pactum salutis is a free act of the will of God by appealing to a Thomist twofold distinction and contemporary threefold division from Roman Catholic theologian Guilielmus Estius (1542–1613) regarding different types of necessity.40 The three types of necessity are natural, absolute, and hypothetical. The pactum salutis is not the result of natural necessity, such as the heat naturally generated by a fire or the freely falling nature of a dropped stone. Neither is the pactum salutis absolutely necessary, such as when God decrees an event; it will, by necessity, come to pass. Rather, the pactum salutis is hypothetically necessary, what theologians call a necessity of consequences.41 Citing the earlier work of Anthony Burgess, Gillespie argues that the pactum salutis is hypothetically necessary because it arises from God’s free will and nothing else: “It was hypothetically and respectively necessary only that God should enter in Covenant with Christ; to wit, upon supposition of some other thing that God had decreed and purposed in himself.”42 Second, the pactum salutis is gracious. Nothing but pure grace, according to Gillespie, motivated the Father and the Son. Grace impelled the Father to send his 39 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 57. 40 Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, 5 vols. (Allen: Christian Classics, 1948), Ia q. 19 art. 3; Guilielmus Estius, In Auatuor Libros Sententiarum Commentaria quibus Pariter S. Thomae Summae Theologicae Partes, Tomus Primus (Paris: Georgii Josse, et al., 1680), Ia dist. 38 art. 7 (p. 111). 41 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 30–31; DLGTT, s. v. necessitas consequentiae, necessitas consequentis, necessitas naturae (p. 200). 42 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 31.

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Son and grace motivated the Son to come and intercede on behalf of fallen sinners. Among the multiple reasons that Gillespie gives for characterizing the pactum as gracious is that the ultimate goal of this covenant is manifesting the glory of God in the freeness and richness of his grace in redemption. Grace was at the core of the ultimate design of the covenant of redemption. In this respect, the pactum salutis constitutes a fountain of grace because efficiently, ultimately, fundamentally, originally, comprehensively, eminently, and exemplarily God manifest his grace in this covenant.43 Third, the pactum is eternal because both of its contracting parties are eternal. Among the texts that Gillespie cites are Deuteronomy 33:27, which states that God is from everlasting to everlasting, and the prologue of John, which is a classic text to prove the deity, and hence eternality, of the Son of God. Despite its eternality, Gillespie does reach into history and the execution of the pactum to demonstrate another eternal dimension as it pertains to the incarnation of Christ. Christ was not eternally incarnate prior to his entrance into history, when he was born of a woman under the law. But one of the effects of the pactum was the eternal assumption of humanity through the Son’s incarnation: “The humane nature, which was from eternity designed unto a substantial union with God; being once assumed, stands in that substantial union for ever.”44 Given the assumption of human nature, a representative redemption of humanity, the pactum salutis would never, therefore, drift away into eternity. Christ, argues Gillespie, will forever stand in the midst of the elect as the glorified God-man, as the Lamb who was slain (Rev. 22:3). The fourth property of the pactum is equality. As in his earlier survey of covenants in general, Gillespie notes that there are two major categories, covenants between those who are equal and unequal. In the former the parties stand as complete equals whereas in the case of the latter, a superior imposes terms and conditions upon a subordinate. So, for example, man cannot stand as God’s equal in a covenant. This is even the case with Adam’s original righteous state before the fall. By contrast, the Father and the Son stand as equals in the covenant of redemption, though Gillespie carefully qualifies this point. Gillespie draws attention to the distinction between the Son’s person and his work as the God-man. In his person, antecedent to the execution of his work as the God-man, the Son is fully divine and equal with his Father; there is no ontological subordination of the Son. In his work as the God-man, however, Christ the mediator is subordinate to the Father. But this subordination is economic and an estate into which Christ voluntarily and willingly entered. As Gillespie explains: “This Covenant was betwixt equal parties, when they stood in equal terms, and were at a perfect 43 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 61–63. 44 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 63–64.

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freedom to chuse or refuse, to give consent to this Covenant or refuse it, as pleased either party.”45 Under this fourth property Gillespie considers the nature of Christ’s merit given that this covenant was one where he voluntarily took upon himself the role of surety. As surety, there was equality between the “stipulation and restipulation” in Christ’s work. There was a proportional quality between the required conditions and the reward promised, but Gillespie specifies that Christ’s merit was not congruous but condign. Citing distinctions offered by medieval theologian Durandus of St. Pourçain (ca. 1230–96), Gillespie contends that Christ’s merit was not congruous (half-merit), “whereby friendship and love of the party injured doth accept of that which is not equivalent to the offence.”46 Rather Christ’s was condign merit (full merit), “there being a just and equal proportion betwixt the fault committed and the satisfaction given, and betwixt the reward promised and given to Christ, and the obedience required from and performed by him.”47 In support of this claim Gillespie cites John 17:4–5 and Philippians 2:7– 8. Fifth, Gillespie maintains that the pactum is well ordered, in that God is orderly (1 Cor. 14:33) and wise (1 Tim. 1:17). God’s orderly wisdom is manifest in a number of elements, such as that the covenant surety should offer satisfaction and meet the demands of the law and the broken covenant of works. The orderly nature of the covenant appears in the fact that justice would be satisfied and mercy given and that God’s two attributes of mercy and justice would be revealed. Sixth, and last, stability marks the pactum. God’s actions are inviolable, and as such God’s immutability further buttresses this covenant ( Jam. 1:17). Not only has God agreed with Christ to carry out this covenant, but according to Psalm 89:35, “Once I have sown by my holiness, that I will not lye unto David,” God has sworn his oath. Gillespie also cites Hebrews 7:21 to the same effect, “For those Priests were made without an oath, but this with an oath, by him that said unto him, ‘The Lord sware, and will not repent; thou art a Priest for ever, after the order of Melchisedec.”48 45 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 68. 46 Gillespie has the following citation, “Durand. Lib. 3. Dist. 21. quest. 2” (Ark of the Covenant, 69), which in context is a discussion about whether Christ’s body could have undergone corruption in the grave (Durandus, In Sententias Theologicas Petri Lombardi Commentariorum Libri Quatuor [Lugduni: apud Gulielmum Rouillium, 1563], bk. III dist. 21 q. 2 [fol. 214]). Durandus addresses the question of condign and congruent merit in Sententias Theologicas, bk. I dist. 17 q. 2 art 2 (fol. 47) and bk. II dist. 27 q. 2 art. 1 (fol. 153). Cf. Aquinas, Summa Theologica, IaIIae q. 109 art. 5 & q. 114 art. 3; Reinhold Seeberg, Text-Book of the History of Doctrines, 2 vols. (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1954), II:202. 47 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 69–70; cf. DLGTT, s. v. meritum de condigno, meritum de congruo (pp. 191–92). 48 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 72–73.

Critical issues

2.5

61

Critical issues

2.5.1 The role of the Holy Spirit Given the complexity of the doctrine of the pactum there are naturally a number of critical issues that deserve investigation, among which include the question of the role of the Holy Spirit. Critics of the doctrine have maintained that pactum divides the unitary work of the triune God either by radically individualizing the members of the godhead or by completely excluding the person and work of the Spirit. According to some, the Holy Spirit merely stands on the sidelines as a casual observer as the Father and the Son covenant with one another to plan and execute the work of redemption. Others sympathetic to the dogmatic idea of the pactum have nevertheless argued that certain formulations in seventeenth-century English Reformed theologians render them liable to the charge of a subtrinitarian construction.49 Hence, the question of the Spirit’s role in the pactum deserves some attention. In his formulation of the doctrine, Gillespie clearly explains that the covenant is between the Father and the Son; the Spirit is not a party of the covenant.50 But at least in Gillespie’s mind, that Christ and the Father are the only two parties of the covenant is not a declension to sub-trinitarianism. First, the exegesis of specific texts drives Gillespie’s formulation. For example, Galatians 3:16 serves as one of the more commonly cited texts to which Gillespie appeals: “Now to Abraham and his seed were the promises made. He saith not, And to seeds, as of many; but as of one, And to thy seed, which is Christ.” In other texts, such as Psalm 89, David serves as a type of Christ, which both echoes the pre-temporal intra-trinitarian covenant between the Father and the Son and looks forward to the antitypical temporal fulfillment through the advent and ministry of Christ. Texts such as Psalm 2:7, Zechariah 6:13, Isaiah 53, 2 Samuel 7:14, and Hebrews 10, for example, all deal specifically with Christ, not the Holy Spirit.51 Second, Gillespie structures the pactum salutis in such a manner that he fully recognizes the ontological equality and involvement of all three members of the trinity in creation and redemption. Gillespie never questions the ontological equality of all three members of the trinity as other theologians of the period such as Jacob Arminius (1560–1609), who argued that the Son was ontologically

49 E. g., Carl R. Trueman, John Owen: Reformed Catholic, Renaissance Man (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007), 86; Mark Jones, Why Heaven Kissed Earth: The Christology of the Puritan Reformed Orthodox Theologian, Thomas Goodwin (1600–80) (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2010), 129. 50 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 3. 51 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 3–8.

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subordinate to the Father.52 Rather, Gillespie believed that Christ’s specific work as mediator was covenantally structured and as such, the Spirit was not the mediator and hence not a party to the covenant.53 While proponents of the pactum do not formulate their doctrine in the same manner, they all jealously guard the integrity of the doctrine of the trinity. Even if the Spirit appears to have a muted role in the doctrine, theologians emphasize the difference between the processions and missions of the trinity. Owen, for example, is acutely aware of the criticism that the pactum appears to introduce a splintering of the unified will of the trinity: “For although it should seem that because they are single acts of the same divine understanding and will, they cannot be properly federal, yet because those properties of the divine nature are acted distinctly in the distinct persons, they have in them the nature of a covenant.”54 In other words, the godhead possesses a unified will but each member relates differently to that will in accordance with his respective economic role. Owen therefore engages the following accusation: “The will is a natural property, and therefore in the divine essence it is but one. The Father, Son, and Spirit, have not distinct wills. They are one God and God’s will is one, as being an essential property of his nature.”55 Owen first recognizes the unity of the divine essence and that they act reciprocally in essential acts, but as they subsist distinctly, they also act uniquely in the external works that are peculiar to each member of the godhead. Hence, according to Owen: “The will of God as to the peculiar actings of the Father in this matter is the will of the Father, and the will of God with regard unto the peculiar actings of the Son is the will of the Son; not by a distinction of sundry wills, but by the distinct application of the same will unto its distinct acts in the persons of the Father and the Son.”56 In other words, the unitary will of the trinity is to save fallen sinners but the Son, not the Father or the Spirit, voluntarily humbled himself unto death on the cross. The Son came to do the work that the Father gave him, and the Father sent the Son; the Son did not send the Father. Third, the pactum salutis is not the first consideration of humanity’s redemption in Gillespie’s formulation. Recall from his explanation of the elements of the pactum salutis that Gillespie argued that there were certain acts in the decree of God that constituted the pactum, and that there was a natural (not temporal) order to these acts.57 In this vein Gillespie explains that there are five 52 See, e. g., Richard A. Muller, “The Christological Problem in the Thought of Jacob Arminius,” Archief voor Kerkgeschiedenis 68 (1988): 145–63. 53 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 190–91. 54 Owen, “Exercitation XXVIII,” 77. 55 Owen, “Exercitation XXVIII,” 77. 56 Owen, “Exercitation XXVIII,” 87–88. 57 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 50.

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presuppositions upon which the pactum salutis rests. God purposed in himself and in his decree: (1) to glorify himself; (2) that there should be objects qualified and fit for glorifying the divine attributes, which means that it presupposes the creation of man in a mutable state; (3) that man would fall and would require satisfaction to fulfill God’s justice; (4) that he would not punish all with justice but grant mercy to some; and (5) that Christ would be chosen to carry out the work of redemption.58 All five of presuppositions fall under the decree of God, which is the council of the triune God (the consilium Dei).59 This means that though the decree is one and devoid of temporal succession given its eternality and the simplicity of God, the “order of nature” (ordo naturae) dictates that the trinitarian council of God produces the pactum salutis.60 In other words: Trinitarian Consilium Dei (Father, Son, Holy Spirit) ð Pactum salutis. Or, the pactum presupposes the trinitarian decree of election. Fourth, Gillespie posits a role for the Spirit in the pactum; as noted above, Christ was called, anointed, and equipped by the Spirit to execute his work as mediator. Gillespie posits six different acts of the Spirit in the pactum: (1) he unites the human nature to Christ through a miraculous conception; (2) joins the people of God in one spirit; (3) is a gift of unction first to Christ and then to the elect united to Christ; (4) he helps us in our infirmities; (5) he spreads the love of God abroad in our hearts; and (6) he sets a seal upon the hearts of the elect to bear witness to the work of God in them.61 Hence, Gillespie’s understanding and construction of the pactum salutis is a calculated and exegetically driven undertaking, although not all seventeenth-century English and Scottish formulations were the same. Some theologians offer similar explanations and others differ with respect to the role of the Holy Spirit. One theologian who specifically addresses the Spirit’s role in the pactum salutis in a similar fashion to Gillespie’s is Samuel Rutherford. The Scottish theologian explains that the pactum is “an eternall transaction and compact between Jehovah and the second Person the Son of God.”62 He then posits the following objection: Did not the Holy Ghost also from eternity, say Amen, and agree to be sent by the Father and the Son, to lead the Saints in all truth, to sanctifie, to comfort them? And did not the Father and the Son from eternity decree to send the Spirit? And did not the Spirit also consent to the decree before the world was? And so shall there be also a Covenant 58 Gillsepie, Ark of the Covenant, 32–33. 59 DLGTT, s. v. consilium Dei (pp. 79–80). 60 Laurence R. O’Donnell, III, “The Holy Spirit’s Role in John Owen’s ‘Covenant of the Mediator’ Formulation: A Case Study in Reformed Orthodox Formulations of the Pactum Salutis,” PRJ 4/1 (2012): 107–08. 61 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 173. 62 Rutherford, Covenant of Life, II.vii (p. 302).

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between the Father and the Son sending the Spirit, Joh. 14.26. Joh. 16.13, 14, 15 and the Spirit who is sent? 63

The overall thrust of this series of questions is predicated upon the basic definition of a covenant, that it is a mutual agreement. That Christ was sent implies his voluntary consent, and hence an agreement. Therefore, that both the Father and Son send the Spirit implies the Spirit’s consent and hence an agreement, or covenant. Rutherford offers a number of considerations in response. First, he argues that every mutual agreement among the members of the trinity does not automatically imply the presence of a covenant: “The sending of the Spirit, and the Spirit his free consent to come, is not a proper covenant.” To illustrate his point Rutherford draws upon the specific nature of Christ’s work as mediator. As mediator the Father decreed and Christ consented to empty himself, become incarnate, and be born under the law, which means that he was legally bound to obey unto death the covenantal law of God through his death on the cross. Such a pattern is covenantal because it involves the covenant-obedience of the mediator, a work that the Holy Spirit does not perform. But just because the Spirit is not personally a party to the pactum salutis does not mean he is completely uninvolved in the process. Like Gillespie, Rutherford employs a consilium ð pactum structure when he writes: And what should man say when the votes of the Three carries it, that our iniquities should be laid on the Son, Isa. 53.6. and the Son should be sent, Gal. 4.4 and he from eternity should set out. Lord, send me, here am I to do thy will. John. 3.13. No man (no person) hath ascended up to heaven, but he that came down from heaven, even the Son of man which is in heaven. These votes of love fell not upon Angels, but upon man.64

The consilum Dei, the collective will of the trinity, decreed that Christ would redeem the elect. The pactum salutis, therefore, is tied to the pre-temporal economic appointment of the Son to his specific role as mediator, not the intratrinitarian decree to save the elect. Slightly different formulations appear in the works of John Owen and James Durham. Owen has been criticized for the absence of the Holy Spirit in his construction of the pactum despite his otherwise highly trinitarian theology.65 A careful reading of Owen’s exposition, however, reveals two important considerations. First, like Gillespie and Rutherford, Owen utilizes a similar consilium ð

63 Rutherford, Covenant of Life, II.vii (p. 303). 64 Rutherford, Covenant of Life, II.vii (pp. 304–05). 65 For interaction with secondary literature on this point see O’Donnell, “The Holy Spirit’s Role,” 103–06.

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pactum structure.66 In Exercitation XXVIII from his Hebrews commentary, Owen explains that the council of the triune God was first manifest and reflected in the creation of humanity, evident in Genesis 1:26, “Let us make man in our image, according unto our likeness, and let them have dominion.”67 Owen characterizes the counsel of God concerning the creation of humanity as trinitarian: “In the framing and producing the things which concern mankind, there were peculiar, internal, personal transactions between the Father, Son, and Spirit.”68 In this case, Owen has both humanity’s creation and redemption in view. Owen bridges the consilium-pactum gap by explaining that the transactions of the counsel of God “were carried on ‘per modum foederis,’ ‘by way of covenant,’ compact, and mutual agreement, between the Father and the Son.”69 Owen recognizes the same distinctions between the ontological and economic trinity in the work of redemption when he writes: “For although it should seem that because they are single acts of the same divine understanding and will, they cannot be properly federal, yet because those properties of the divine nature are acted distinctly in the distinct persons, they have in them the nature of a covenant.”70 According to Owen the intra-trinitarian counsels of God lie at the foundation of the priesthood of Christ, which Scripture describes as a covenant.71 For Owen, the counsel of God and the pactum are very closely related. James Durham, on the other hand, seems to dispense with the consiliumpactum distinction. In his exposition of the pactum salutis Durham explains who the parties of this covenant are. Durham writes: For the Parties, Upon the one side is God essentially considered, or all the three Persons of the glorious God-head, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, who are all concurring in this Covenant, it being the act of the determinate counsel of God; and in this respect God is the Party to whom the satisfaction for lost Sinners is made, and he is also the Party condescending to accept of the satisfaction.72

On the other side of the covenant Christ offers satisfaction to the triune God, the second person of the trinity. Durham explains: “In the first respect, all the three Persons, that same one blessed God, give the command or required a satisfaction as God, and concur as the infinitely wise orderers of the Decree; and in the second 66 On Owen’s understanding of the Holy Spirit in the pactum salutis see O’Donnell, “Holy Spirit’s Role,” 100–11, for what follows. 67 John Owen, “Exercitation XXVII: The Original of the Priesthood of Christ in the Counsel of God,” in The Works of John Owen, vol. 19, ed. William H. Goold (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1862), 43. 68 Owen, “Exercitation XXVIII,” 58. 69 John Owen, “Exercitation XXVIII,” 77. 70 Owen, “Exercitation XXVIII,” 77. 71 Owen, “Exercitation XXVIII,” 77–78. 72 Durham, Christ Crucified, serm. XXIII (p. 157).

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respect, Jesus Christ as Mediator, undertakes to make the satisfaction.”73 If not considered carefully, Durham’s formulation sounds confusing. How can the Son command himself to offer satisfaction and then be the one to fulfill his own command? Durham contends that the trinity, “essentially considered” (according to its divine essence), stands on one side of the covenant. The other party to the covenant is “Jesus Christ the Mediator.” In other words, Durham bases his explanation of the respective parties upon the distinction between the ontological and economic trinity. Even though Durham rests one side of the pactum upon the trinity, he nevertheless acknowledges the Father’s primary role in the covenant. He notes, for example, that the covenant of redemption goes by a number of different names such as the Father’s will and his law (Psa. 40:8; John. 6:38) and the Father and Son’s work: “I have finished the work you have given me to do.” But at the same time Durham also points out that Christ was crucified according to the “determinate counsel and fore-knowledge of God” (Acts 2:23).74 There is a sense in which Durham believes that the will of the Father is the shared will of the trinity as it pertains to the pactum, hence even though many passages of Scripture speak only of the Father giving the Son the work and appointing him to his office as covenant surety, it reflects the collective will of all three persons of the Godhead: “For as it was the Father’s will that he should lay down his life for his sheep, so it was the will of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, that Believers in him should through his satisfaction have eternal life, John 6.39, 40.”75 For Durham, in contrast to the formulations of Gillespie, Rutherford, and Owen, the consilium Dei is the pactum salutis as it pertains to matters related to both the plan and appointment of Christ as mediator and covenant surety. A similar strand, though somewhat less developed than Durham’s exposition, appears in Thomas Goodwin’s explanations of the pactum salutis. In the opening sections of his Of Christ the Mediator, Goodwin explains the doctrine but spends the majority of his exposition on the Father-Son interaction, which seems appropriate given the broader context of a work on Christ as mediator. Goodwin does, however, give a role for the Holy Spirit in the pactum: “And now will you see how and in what manner it was he called him, and be amazed at it, to see how earnest he is in it. See his own words (as the Holy Ghost, the great secretary of heaven, who alone was by at that great council, hath recorded it).”76 The idea is 73 74 75 76

Durham, Christ Crucified, serm. XXIII (p. 157). Durham, Christ Crucified, serm. XXIII (p. 157). Durham, Christ Crucified, serm. XXIII (p. 162). Goodwin, Of Christ the Mediator, I.vii (p. 23); also idem, The Work of the Holy Ghost in Our Salvation, in The Works of Thomas Goodwin, vol. 6 (1861–66; Eureka: Tanski Publications, 1996), IX.iii (p. 419); Joel R. Beeke and Mark Jones, A Puritan Theology: Doctrine for Life (Grand Rapids: Reformation Heritage Books, 2012), 250–51.

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that the Spirit records the transaction between the Father and Son and subsequently reveals it through Scripture. Goodwin follows this quotation with several passages of Scripture (Heb. 5:5–6, 7:21, 10:10; Psa. 2:7; John 10:18). But the Holy Spirit is no mere bystander in the pactum. In several other places Goodwin writes of an active role for the Spirit in the intra-trinitarian deliberations regarding the creation and redemption of humanity. In his Work of the Holy Ghost in Our Salvation, Goodwin expresses the idea that the Spirit both as the “secretary of heaven” “hears all that passeth” between the Father and Son, both in the commands to the mediator and his willing consent. But the Spirit is also an actor in the drama of the pactum in that, while Christ consents to become incarnate by the Father’s command, he carries this out through the work of the Spirit (Luke 1:35). Christ’s conception, though not visible, is a record of all three persons of the trinity engaging and executing the agreed-upon terms of the pactum—it is a theophany of sorts. The Father declares his will both to the Son and the Spirit, and the Spirit carries out God’s will and executes the miraculous conception of Christ. The Son owns and assumes the body prepared for him. Hence, the Spirit did not “stand by as a bare witness to relate it and confirm it to us, but was sent down by both as a principal actor, that had the great and ultimate hand in effecting of it.”77 In another discussion of the trinitarian nature of creation, in which he also discusses humanity’s fall, Goodwin offers a hypothetical dialogue among the members of the trinity. Like Owen, Goodwin offers a trinitarian explanation of Genesis 1:26, “Let us make man in our own image.” Goodwin writes: When man was first made, then only God said, ‘Let us make man;’ this was spoken, say some, with a farther eye and foresight than to the creation, this counsel expressed what special care they each should have unto the like piece of workmanship was then afore them, even unto the gospel state. I will choose him to life, saith the Father, but he will fall, and so fall short of what my love designed to him; but I will redeem him, says the Son, out of that lost estate. But yet being fallen he will refuse that grace, and the offers of it, and despise it; therefore I will sanctify him, said the Holy Ghost, and overcome his unrighteousness, and cause him to accept it. And having this counsel and resolution about him, they still said, however, ‘Let us make him,’ and thereupon fell to making him, and have since done all this for him.78

In the few paragraphs that follow this hypothetical dialogue Goodwin emphasizes the trinitarian nature of redemption and that all three persons of the Godhead have an equal share the work of redemption: “Saith the Father, This is the soul

77 Goodwin, Holy Ghost, IX.iii (pp. 418–19). 78 Thomas Goodwin, Three Several Ages of Christians in Faith and Obedience, in The Works of Thomas Goodwin, vol. 7 (1861–66; Eureka: Tanski Publications, 1996), VI (p. 540); Beeke and Jones, Puritan Theology, 251.

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which I chose from everlasting, and set my heart upon so long ago. Saith Christ, This is that man that I represented upon the cross, and the welcome day now comes that I have return of the travail of my soul, the spirit of my blood. And I, says the Spirit, have took infinite pains with him to keep him, and to bring him to this.”79 Unlike Gillespie and Rutherford, Goodwin and Durham fold the consilium Dei into the pactum salutis, though Goodwin’s version appears to be less explicitly defined than Durham’s. In light of the foregoing explanations of the relationship between the pactum and the trinity, it does not seem accurate to characterize the doctrine as subtrinitarian. Contemporary critics who level such charges seldom examine primary source texts with detail or great care.80 Rather, theologians disagreed about where specifically to place the trinity’s pre-temporal covenantal activity, within the doctrine of the trinity proper (Durham and Goodwin) or more specifically as a subset of christology (Rutherford and Gillespie). Durham and Goodwin basically identify the consilium Dei with the pactum salutis, whereas Rutherford and Gillespie distinguish them.

2.5.2 Pactum salutis or covenant of grace? Although the pactum salutis was the majority report within seventeenth-century English and Scottish Reformed theology, not every rank and file theologian embraced and advocated the doctrine. Some theologians such as Francis Roberts (1609–75) and Samuel Petto (ca. 1624–1711) were dissenting voices. Roberts advocates all of the key elements of the pactum salutis: the Father’s commands to the Son and the Son’s voluntary acceptance of the work as mediator and covenant surety. The Father and Son, however, initiate the covenant of grace (or faith, in contrast to the covenant of works) in which God appoints the Son as mediator and the last Adam.81 There are two parties to the covenant of grace, the Father and Christ. But how, then, are the elect included in the covenant of grace if there are only two parties? The answer comes in Christ’s federal relationship to his seed. The Father makes the covenant of grace with Christ and his seed.82 Roberts fleshes out the federal implications of his construction by drawing attention to the parallel between the first and last Adams. God entered the covenant of works with 79 Goodwin, Several Ages, VI (p. 541). 80 See, e. g., Robert Letham, The Work of Christ (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1993), 52– 53; idem, The Westminster Assembly: Reading Its Theology in Historical Context (Phillipsburg: P & R, 2009), 235–36. 81 Roberts, Mysterium & medulla bibliorum, II.ii (pp. 61–62). 82 Roberts, Mysterium & medulla bibliorum, II.ii aphr. II. sect. I & II (pp. 69, 71).

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the first Adam and all of his seed, which means that a parallel structure exists between God, Christ, and Christ’s seed.83 Based upon texts such as Galatians 3:16–17, Roberts contends that the covenant of grace was made primarily with Christ and secondarily with his seed in him. To support his conclusions, Roberts invokes “so many and considerable Authors” who express themselves similarly, and therefore his construction should not seem “as an odd, singular, novel Opinion.”84 Perhaps Roberts felt pressure to conform his opinion to the majority view, though he never expresses why he felt the need to defend his particular understanding. But to buttress his position, Roberts appeals to the Westminster Standards (1648) as well the formulations of John Preston (1587–1628) and Edward Reynolds (1599–1676). The Westminster Larger Catechism, for example, asks the question: “With whom was the Covenant of Grace made? A. The Covenant of Grace was made with Christ, as the second Adam; and, in him, with all the Elect as his Seed Gal. 3.16. Rom. 5:15 to the end. Isa. 50.10,11” (q. 31).85 In his exegesis of Galatians 3:16, Edward Reynolds explains that all of the promises of redemption are made and given to Christ, and insofar as people are united to him, they are recipients of those promises: “Promises are the efficient causes of our purification as they are the Rayes and Beams of Christ the Sun of Righteousness, in whom they are all founded and established.”86 In the exegesis of the same text John Preston asks the question of how the nations can be the beneficiaries of the Abrahamic promise if it was made, first and foremost, with Christ. The answer is that true children of Abraham are not those born by flesh but those who partake of the Messiah.87 Samuel Petto makes very similar arguments in favor of a two-covenant structure, the covenants of works and grace. But unlike Roberts, Petto offers specific reasons. Petto contends that it is improper to distinguish between the pactum salutis and the covenant of grace because there is no scriptural evidence to warrant it.88 Two subjects of the covenant, Christ and the elect, does not necessitate two distinct covenants. Like Roberts, Petto distinguishes between Christ as federal head (or a public person) and those who are united to him. Moreover, he maintains that the covenant of grace has two phases, pre-temporal 83 Roberts, Mysterium & medulla bibliorum, II.ii aphr. II sect. II (p. 72). 84 Roberts, Mysterium & medulla bibliorum, II.ii aphr. II sect. II (p. 78). 85 Roberts, Mysterium & medulla bibliorum, II.ii aphr. II sect. II (p. 78); cf. The Westminster Standards: An Original Facsimile (1648; Princeton: Old Paths Publications, 1997). 86 Edward Reynolds, The Sinfulnesse of Sinne, in Three Treatises of The Vanity of the Creature. The Sinfulnesse of Sinne. The Life of Christ (London: Robert Bostocke, 1631), 345. 87 John Preston, The New Covenant, or the Saints Portion (London: Nicolas Bourne, 1634), 387– 88. 88 Samuel Petto, The Difference Between the Old and New Covenant State and Explained with an Exposition of the Covenant of Grace in the Principal Concernments of It (London: Eliz. Calvert, 1674), 19.

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and temporal aspects. The pre-temporal aspect was constituted with Christ before the existence of the elect, which means they could not have been a party to the covenant. But once God executes the covenant in history, the elect participate in it.89 Roberts and Petto see no need, therefore, to articulate a distinct covenant between the Father and the Son. They instead fold the federal transactions between the Father and Son into the eternal pole of the covenant of grace. Advocates of the pactum salutis, on the other hand, believed that a threefold covenant structure was warranted: the pactum and the covenants of works and grace. Advocates of the pactum generally do not make the specific case against proponents of the twofold covenant view, but some do argue the point. Thomas Blake, for example, argues that the covenant of grace is exclusively between God and fallen sinners, and that it is not made between God and Christ.90 Blake distinguishes the pactum salutis from the covenant of grace because Christ is the only other party of the pactum. The Son alone agreed to the Father’s commands and completed his work, by which he alone merited the reward. Granted, the elect are the beneficiaries of the pactum, but Blake nevertheless argues that Christ alone is the other covenanting party, not the elect.91 Anthony Burgess and Peter Bulkeley argue along similar lines.92 In fact, Burgess argues on the basis of the same evidence marshaled by Petto and Roberts, namely, Christ is the second Adam and his seed reap the benefits of his work as covenant surety. But unlike Petto and Roberts, Burgess sees this as grounds to distinguish between the pactum and covenant of grace, not combine them.93 If we dig deeper into the specific argumentation surrounding Galatians 3:16, however, a number of issues surface that explain how at least one advocate of the pactum understood this text. Rutherford posits the question, How can the promises of the covenant be made to Christ and to his seed? 94 Rutherford rehearses the various views on the exegesis of this text. Some theologians, such as Theodore Beza (1519–1605), Johannes Piscator (1546–1625), Giovanni Diodati (1576–1649), and the Westminster Assembly’s Annotations on the Bible, argue that the seed of Galatians 3:16 is the mystical body of Christ, namely the church.95

89 90 91 92

Petto, Old and New Covenant, 21. Blake, Vindicae Foederis, 13. Blake, Vindicae Foederis, 14. Bulkeley, Gospel Covenant, I.iv (p. 31); Burgess, True Doctrine of Justification, serm. XXXVII (p. 375). 93 Burgess, True Doctrine of Justification, serm. XXXVII (p. 375). 94 Rutherford, Covenant of Life, II.vii (p. 312). 95 Theodore Beza, ed., Iesu Christ D. N. Novum Testamentum (Geneva: 1606), comm. Gal. 3:16; Johannes Piscator, Analysis Logica Sex Epistolarum Pauli, videlicet Galatas, Ephesios, Philippenses, Colossenses, Utriusque ad Thessalonicenses (Herborn: Christoph Rab, 1589), comm. Gal. 3:16 (p. 34); Annotations Upon all the Books of the Old and New Testament (London: Evan

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David Pareus (1548–1622), on the other hand, argues that the seed is not a collective noun but refers singularly to Christ.96 Among the “Papists,” such as Nicolas Liranus, or Nicolaus de Lyra (ca. 1270–1349), Tommaso de Vio Cajetan (1468–1534), and Cornelius a Lapide (1567–1637), some argue that the noun refers exclusively to Christ.97 One Roman Catholic exegete, Estius, argues that the term is a collective noun. Going back to the patristic period, Rutherford notes that Augustine (354–430) made the same point.98 So at this point, one can say that Rutherford was not blindly reading this text and squeezing whatever meaning he wanted out of it. He was aware of the debated nature of the text and engaged a broad cross-section of sources, not merely those associated with his own period or theological convictions. When it comes to the specific exegesis of the text, Rutherford argues that the noun should not be taken collectively, or mystically, because the seed is the one in whom the nations, Jews and Gentiles, are blessed (v. 14). And especially relevant is that the seed was “made a curse for us” (v. 13). Only Christ, not his mystical body, bore the curse. Neither did the mystical body render satisfaction to neutralize the claim of the law against us. The term seed also takes on the same signification in verse 19, “Wherefore then serveth the Law? It was added because of transgressions, until the seed come, to whom the promise was made.” The seed is Christ, not his mystical body, the church. To argue that the seed of Galatians 3:16 is Christ’s mystical body is, in Rutherford’s words, “non-sense.”99 As Christ’s body believers do receive the benefits through union with him but they are not the specific recipients of the promise, Christ is. Despite these differences of opinion, the proponents of these respective views did not view one another as heterodox. Despite Roberts’ appeal to the Westminster Larger Catechism, the Standards have a degree of ambiguity on the matter of the subjects of the covenant of grace. Larger Catechism q. 31 says that the covenant of grace is made with Christ and his seed. But the Standards elsewhere state that the covenant of grace is made only with the elect and makes no mention of Christ. Such is the case with the Confession’s statement on the covenant of grace, “Wherein he freely offereth unto sinners Life and Salvation by Jesus Christ” (VII.iii). The implication is that there are only two parties, God and

96 97 98 99

Tyler, 1657), comm. Gal. 3:16; Giovanni Diodati, Pious and Learned Annotations upon the Holy Bible (London: Nicholas Fussell, 1648), comm. Gal. 3:16 (p. 239). David Pareus, In Divinam ad Galatas s. apostolic epistolam commentarius (Geneva: apud Petrum Aubertum, 1614), lect. XXXVIII (p. 180). Tommaso de Vio Cajetan, Epistolae Pauli et aliorum apostolorum (Paris: apud Hieronymum et Dionysiam de Marne Fratres, 1550), 241; Cornelius a Lapide, Commentaria in Omnes S. Pauli Epistolas (Antwerp: apud Martinum Nutium: 1621), comm. Gal. 3:16 (p. 467). Augustine, Augustine’s Commentary on Galatians, ed. Eric Plummer (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), §23 (pp. 163–64). Rutherford, Covenant of Life, II.vii (p. 312).

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elect sinners. The same conclusion holds true regarding Shorter Catechism q. 20: “God, having out of his meer good pleasure from all eternity elected some to everlasting life, did enter into a Covenant of grace to deliver them out of the estate of sin and misery, and to bring them into an estate of Salvation by a Redeemer.” What explains this apparent discrepancy? A number of Westminster divines promoted the pactum salutis, such as Goodwin, Rutherford, Reynolds, and Sedgwick, but their view was not necessarily the majority report. Moreover, the doctrine was still in its early stages of development, hence the Standards likely reflect the diversity of opinions on the matter and therefore hint at the doctrine without explicitly teaching it. Evidence that theologians on both sides of the issue viewed one another in a positive light surfaces in the fact that Owen, a proponent of the pactum, wrote the forward to Petto’s The Difference Bewteen the Old and New Covenant, a work critical of the pactum. Owen’s endorsement confirms that the twofold versus threefold covenant structure was a matter of a diversified orthodoxy.

2.5.3 Motivated by love One of the repeated criticisms of the pactum salutis is that it turns the grace of the gospel into a cold business transaction where the respective parties hammer out an agreement and then carry it out with ruthless, logical, and legal precision. The Father demands his pound of flesh and the Son fulfills this demand in “a sort of grotesque covenant of salvation in heaven.”100 But one of the constant refrains throughout many of the works from this period and provenance is that the pactum salutis is a manifestation and fount of love, whether of the intra-trinitarian love among the godhead or the love that overflows from the triune God to the elect.101 Gillespie, for example, writes: His Service is commended from the largeness of his design of Love, through which he did drive the serving of this Service; that God, the Son of God, did drive this piece of Service through so deep, and broad, and long a design of transcendent love, from everlasting to everlasting; through so many decrees, which at last could produce nothing in the result, but this price, To have his poor people engaged to him by a Covenant.102

100 Cornelius Plantinga, Jr., “The Threeness/Oneness Problem of the Trinity,” CTJ 23/1 (1988): 37–38. 101 Goodwin, Christ the Mediator, I.vii (p. 23); Rutherford, Covenant of Life, II.v (p. 286), II.vii (p. 306–07); Durham, Christ Crucified, serm. XXII (p. 163); Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 45, 129, 173, 193, 199, 213, 361; Flavel, Fountain of Life, serm. III (pp. 60–61); cf. Roberts, Mysterium & medulla bibliorum, II.ii aphr. 1 (p. 64). 102 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 361.

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The whole matter, from beginning to end, is enveloped in love, the mutual intratrinitarian love and the love of the triune God for fallen sinners. In fact, Stephen Charnock (1628–80) citing sources as diverse as Cocceius and Roman Catholic Cardinal Cajetan, argues that God’s love for humanity is evidence of the triune love among the members of the godhead.103

2.5.4 Pactum and revelation One of the things necessitated by the pactum salutis is the inevitability of the revelation of God’s plan for redemption. According to Gillespie, the mediator of the covenant of grace is the word of God in several different manners. He is the word by whom all things were made (Heb. 1:2; Psa. 33:6) and the fulfillment of God’s word. But he is also “the word in relation to the revealing all the will of God; he is the medium revelationis, as well as reconciliationis.”104 In other words, Christ is the agent of reconciliation, the one who redeems the elect from their sin-fallen state, and he is therefore also the one to reveal God’s will to save these fallen sinners. He both reveals and executes the content of that revelation. In a sinfallen world natural revelation is insufficient given humanity’s utter blindness to anything pertaining to Christ. Christ therefore addresses humanity’s incapacity to perceive its need for redemption: “Christ is the witness of the Covenant, who did declare and reveal the great secret of the Covenant, even all that he heard, and saw, and acted about it; he doth witness and declare even the whole Counsel of God concerning his Covenant, his purpose and will of grace concerning his people; which things we had never known, had not the witness of the Covenant revealed and declare them” (Psa. 25).105 The connection between the pactum and the necessity of divine revelation is important on several fronts. First, this connection demonstrates that, adherents to the pactum salutis did not engage in gross speculation about the inner workings of the consilium Dei. Yes, these matters were decided in eternity before the foundations of the world, but Christ revealed them throughout redemptive history, which culminated in his incarnation. Second, fallen humanity was in103 Stephen Charnock, A Discourse Upon the Goodness of God, in Works of Stephen Charnock, vol. 2 (Edinburgh: James Nichol, 1864), 284; cf. Tommasso de Vio Cajetan, Secundae Paris Summae Sacrosanctae Theologiae Sancti Thomae Aquinatis (Lugduni: apud Hugonem a Porta, 1558), q. XXXIV art. 3 (p. 132); Aquinas, Summa Theologica, IIaIIae q. 34 art. 3; Hangsang Lee, “Trinitarian Theology and Piety: The Attributes of God in the Thought of Stephen Charnock (1628–80) and William Perkins (1558–1602)” (Ph.D. Diss., University of Edinburgh, 2009), 208–09. 104 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 162. 105 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 302–03.

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capable of accessing these truths apart from divine revelation, which means that the pactum salutis and rationalism are incompatible. So adherents to the doctrine might be accused of incorrect or faulty exegesis given the various texts to which they appeal, but they should not be accused of rationalism or speculation. The pactum is a revealed reality and hence accessible to redeemed sinners through the Scriptures. In a sense, the advocates of the pactum are no more speculative or rationalistic than any other theologian who has discussed the opera ad intra, or immanent work of the trinity. In this case, the advocates of the doctrine have merely detected covenantal activity within the opera ad intra of the godhead through the exegesis of numerous texts. Third, the pactum salutis and the Son’s voluntary obedience necessitates the revelation of the law and the legal economy to which Christ would submit. Even though he was a critic of the pactum, Petto captures this point well when he writes: “It is true, there was an agreement between the Father and the Son from Eternity about it, the Covenant of Grace was then struck and had a being; but the Sinai Covenant was a necessary medium or means for the execution thereof.”106 The Sinai covenant was a covenant of works for Christ because he was born under it and suffered its curse (Gal. 3:13). In other words, the pactum salutis necessitated the revelation of the law as well as redemptive history to bring about Christ’s fulfillment of its terms.

2.5.5 Incarnation, union, and communion If the pactum salutis necessitated divine revelation, then it also required the incarnation given that Christ embodies the word of God in the flesh. But as Gillespie noted above, Christ is not only the agent of revelation but also reconciliation. Aside from the scriptural necessity of affirming the incarnation, advocates of the pactum salutis pressed the point of the incarnation for two chief reasons. First, polemically, proponents argued that Christ was appointed to the office of mediator in the pactum and as such performed this role according to both natures, human and divine. Affirming the necessity of Christ’s intercession according to both natures stands in contrast to common Roman Catholic arguments that Christ was mediator only according to his human nature.107 Second, the pactum salutis posits the redemption of fallen sinners through the union of the Son to humanity on a number of different levels, which Gillespie explains in terms of the different aspects of Christ’s office as covenant surety: 106 Petto, Old and New Covenant, 136. 107 See, e. g., Aquinas, Summa Theologica, IIIa q. 26 art. 2; cf. Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 250– 55.

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natural, legal, federal, and mystical. A consequence of Christ’s appointment as surety is the requisite natural relation between Christ and the elect in that he agrees to enter their condition and share in their nature (Heb. 2:11, 14, 16). Christ’s role as surety produces a legal relationship to the elect in that in the eyes of the law of God, they are one party. As surety Christ’s satisfaction and payment for sin is given to the elect and their sins are given to Christ (Gal. 2:20; Rom. 6:5). Christ’s appointment as surety produces a federal relation between Christ and his people whereby they are united in a covenantal bond (Psa. 89:26; John. 20:17; Heb. 1:5). And lastly, a mystical relationship exists because of Christ’s appointment as surety whereby the elect is his body and he is the head. Gillespie employs other images, such as the vine and branches, the king and his subjects, or the husband and his bride, to illustrate the mystical relation between Christ and the elect (1 Cor. 12:12; Col. 1:18; John 15:5; Rev. 19:7; Psa. 45:10; Gal. 2:20; I Cor. 6:17; John 6:57, 17:23).108 Gillespie never uses the term, but when he speaks of the “relation betwixt him and us,” he has in view the doctrine of union with Christ. In fact, what confirms this connection is that Rutherford employs the same four categories (natural, legal, federal, and mystical) to describe the different aspects of the doctrine of union with Christ. The parallel between Gillespie and Rutherford is evidence that the former relied upon the latter, especially given that he periodically cites Rutherford’s work.109 The pactum therefore produces the incarnation and multifaceted union with Christ, which then ultimately leads to communion between God and man. The Spirit enacted incarnation, the hypostatic union between the human and divine natures of Christ, hints at the eventual communion shared between the triune God and man. The dual-natured and Spirit-anointed Godman is eternally incarnate from the moment of his conception, which intimates the eternal union that believers will share with the triune God through union with Christ by the power of the Spirit.110

2.5.6 Justification and imputation One of the key elements of the pactum salutis is its integral connection to the doctrine of justification, particularly as it pertains to the imputation of Christ’s righteousness to the elect. One of the major tenets of the pactum is the idea that the Son willingly offers his own personal obedience to the Father’s will. The Son’s obedience is the effect both of his personal voluntary submission to the Father’s 108 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 388–89. 109 Rutherford, Covenant of Life, I.xxv (pp. 208–09). 110 Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 95–98.

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will and his appointment as covenant surety. Theologians raised two issues in connection with Christ’s pre-temporal appointment as surety: (1) the doctrine of justification in the pactum salutis; and (2) how justification was related to the pactum so as to avoid the antinomian error of justification from eternity. First, attention naturally centers upon the doctrine of justification because of the Son’s work as surety and his own promised justification. Gillespie argues that the Father covenanted a promised justification to Christ based upon several texts: “He is near that justifieth me; who will contend with me” (Isa. 50:8)? According to 1 Timothy 3:16 Christ was “justified in the Spirit” (also Heb. 7:26; Isa. 53:7). Christ’s personal justification was promised to him because he perfectly fulfilled the law (1 John 1:7): “Christ did in all things give consummate and perfect obedience to the Law: and this is to be justified by a Law-justification and title to life; which Adam should have had; if he had obeyed the Law and Covenant of works.”111 In fact, some advocates of the doctrine argued that the covenant of works was an analog to the pactum salutis.112 But Christ’s own personal justification was not his alone as “He is justified as a publick person (though in no private capacity) as head of the party whom he represented, and whole Law place he took upon him, as one whom personated and acted the part of another by allowance and warrant of the law” (Heb. 2:10, 13).113 Second, given that theologians discussed the imputation of Christ’s righteousness as occurring in the pactum salutis, they had to account for the timing and manner of this imputation.114 If Christ’s righteousness was imputed to the elect in the pactum in an unqualified manner, then it meant that sinners were justified before they had faith. Most advocates of the pactum rejected this conclusion and employed several distinctions to make essentially the same point: that the decree to justify or impute is not the same thing as justification and imputation, both of which require faith alone as the instrumental cause. Durham, for example, argues that the terms of the pactum involved the incarnation and condign suffering of Christ to satisfy divine justice on behalf of the elect, but he stipulates that this righteousness, “should be made forthcoming for them for whom he payed it, and be reckoned theirs, and they set actually at liberty when having recourse thereto by Faith; and here there is a legal ground for transferring Christs purchase to and upon us.” Alluding to 2 Corinthians 5:20, Durham argues that the elect have the sentence of justification passed over them on account of the imputed righteousness of Christ.115

111 112 113 114 115

Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 102. E. g., Burgess, True Doctrine of Justification, serm. XXXVII (p. 377). Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 102. E. g., Burgess, True Doctrine of Justification, serm. XXXVII (p. 377). Durham, Christ Crucified, serm. XXII (p. 153).

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But Durham is aware of a potential objection: would not his construction mean that all of the elect would be justified from the moment of Christ’s crucifixion forward? In other words, once Christ accomplished the work would the elect not already be justified? Durham replies with a distinction from jurisprudence by which he distinguishes between jus ad rem (the right to a thing) and jus in re (a right in the thing). Because of the pactum salutis both before (OT saints) and after (NT saints) the death of Christ, the elect have a right to Christ’s righteousness but it has not been applied to them: “An elect Person by vertue of Christs Satisfaction hath a legal right to his purchase before Believing, but when he comes to believe, the obstruction is taken away that hindered his application, and then he hath a new right not only to, but in Christ’s purchase.” Like a minor who has right to an inheritance but not possession of it, the elect do not actually take possession of Christ’s imputed righteousness until they receive it by faith.116 Among those who reject the distinction between the pactum and the covenant of grace but nevertheless maintain all of the substantive elements of the pactum, both Petto and Roberts distinguish between securing and applying righteousness. Petto distinguishes between justification in the abstract, which consists of the remission of sins and righteousness prepared, and actually being justified. Petto calls for the distinction between justification actually procured and applied; the former is prior to faith and the latter requires it.117 Roberts similarly distinguishes between the impetration (obtaining or securing) and the application of redemption.118 Thomas Brooks writes of the “federal transaction between the Father and the Son” from eternity, which was part of God’s decree, and its execution in time.119 The Westminster Standards codify these ideas in the following manner: “God did, from all eternity, decree to justifie all the elect, and Christ did, in the fullnesse of time, die for their sins, and rise again for their justification: neverthelesse, they are not justified, until the holy Spirit doth, in due time, actually apply Christ unto them” (WCF XI.iv). The Savoy Declaration, which was the Congregationalist version of the Westminster Confession, virtually repeats the same language but with one minor modification: “God did from all eternity decree to justify all the Elect, and Christ did in the fulness of time die for their sins, and rise again for their justification: Nevertheless, they are not justified personally, until the holy Spirit doth in due time actually apply Christ unto them”

116 Durham, Christ Crucified, serm. XXII (p. 153). 117 Petto, Old and New Covenant, 278; cf. John Norton, The Orthodox Evangelist (London: John Macock, 1654), 314. 118 Roberts, Mysterium & medulla bibliorum, II.ii aphr. 2 sect. 3 (p. 88). 119 Brooks, Paradise Opened, 361.

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(Savoy XI.iv, emphasis).120 The Savoy Declaration adds the word personally to preserve an element of the pactum salutis. In the broader scope of his soteriology Goodwin, one of the framers of the Savoy Declaration, explains that there are three different types of works by which the triune God accomplishes salvation: 1. Immanent in God towards us, as his eternal love set and passed upon us, out of which he chose us, and designed this and all blessings to us. 2. Transient, in Christ done for us; in all he did or suffered representing of us, and in our stead. 3. Applicatory, wrought in us and upon us, in the endowing us with all those blessings by the Spirit; as calling, justification, sanctification, glorification.121 Goodwin employs this threefold distinction to delineate the manner in which redemption moves from the opera ad intra to the opera ad extra of the trinity. Citing Girolamo Zanchi (1516–90) in his exposition of the pactum, Goodwin distinguishes between what God does in Christ and by Christ. What God does in Christ refers primarily to the immanent acts of God, such as the “preparation of all mercies and benefits we have by Christ, from him, and laying them up in him really for us in Christ, as in our head.” By contrast, “the particle by whom imports the actual performance of all this by Christ, and application of it to us.”122 Goodwin applies these distinctions to the doctrines of the pactum and justification to explain how the “three moments” (tria momenta) of justification unfold. He explains that, though he establishes three “moments,” he does not sub-divide justification. Rather, justification is an actus totalis, a complete act. The first step or moment of justification occurs “at the first covenant-making and striking of the bargain from all eternity.” The reference, of course, is to the pactum salutis: “Justified then we were when first elected, though not in our own persons, yet in our Head, as he had our persons then given him, and we came to have a being and interest in him.” Support for this claim arises from texts such as Ephesians 1:3 and Romans 8:30. In what way can Goodwin claim that the elect are justified in the pactum? He writes: In a more special relation are these blessings decreed said to have been bestowed, because, though they existed not in themselves, yet they existed really in a Head that represented them and us, who was by to answer for them, and to undertake for them, which other creatures could not do; and there was an actual donation and receiving of all these for us (as truly as a feoffee [vassal] in trust may take lands for one unborn), by

120 A Declaration of the Faith and Order owned and practiced in the Congregational Churches in England (London: John Field, 1659). 121 Goodwin, Holy Ghost, IX.i (p. 405); cf. Jones, Why Heaven Kissed Earth, 232–35. 122 Goodwin, Of Christ the Mediator, I.iii (p. 11).

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virtue of a covenant made with Christ, whereby Christ had all our sins imputed unto him, and so taken off from us, Christ having them covenanted to take all our sins upon him when he took our persons to be his; and God having covenanted not to impute sin unto us, but to look at him for the payment of all, and at us as discharged.123

Goodwin places, therefore, the imputation of Christ’s righteousness to the elect in the pactum salutis, and in this sense God justifies the elect. But this does not mean that the elect are actually justified. There are two other “moments” of justification. The second moment or act of justification occurs through the resurrection of Christ. In the fullness of time Christ rendered the necessary satisfaction to pay the debt for the elect. He fulfills his role as covenant surety, something that was determined and established in the pactum. At Christ’s resurrection, “at that instant when he arose, God then performed a farther act of justification towards him [Christ], and us in him, admitting him as our advocate, into the actual possession of justification of life, acquitting him from all those sins which he had charted upon him.” Texts such as 1 Timothy 3:16, which speaks of Christ’s justification, support this claim. The believer’s justified state inextricably rests upon Christ’s own justification, so when he was justified we were justified also in him. Or in other words, Adam brought condemnation to all who were naturally united to him but Christ brings justification to all those united to him.124 The third and final moment of justification is different than the previous two. The first two occur entirely outside of the believer. Goodwin denominates the first two moments of justification as “immanent acts in God” because they are “towards” the elect but they are not yet applied to them.125 They only exist in Christ, who covenanted for the elect and represented them. The first two moments of justification, therefore, provide the elect with “a right and title to justification, yet the benefit and the possession of that estate we have not without a farther act to be passed upon us.” In other words, the elect are not properly justified until they exercise faith in Christ. Such a transition from the estate of death to life occurs both in the conscience of the believer (in foro conscientiae) as he becomes aware of his justified state but also in the court of God (in foro Dei).

123 Thomas Goodwin, The Objects and Acts of Justifying Faith, in The Works of Thomas Goodwin (1861–64; Eureka: Tanski Publications, 1996), I.xv (p. 135). 124 Goodwin, Justifying Faith, I.xv (pp. 136–37). 125 Goodwin’s application of the term immanent acts to the incarnation and suffering of God is imprecise given how the term was historically used. Edward Leigh, for example, defines an immanent act as something that terminates in God himself, such as his decree. A transient act, on the other hand, is the execution of his eternal decree in time (Body of Divinity, III.i [p. 216]; cf. DLGTT, s. v. opera Dei ad intra, opera Dei essentialia (pp. 211–12).

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Goodwin deems the first two moments as part of justification, but only this third and final stage is truly justification by faith.126 Goodwin was well aware of the fact that some might object to his formulation. How can the elect be justified from eternity in Christ but nevertheless remain in an unjustified state before they profess faith in Christ? To this question Goodwin offers three responses. First, he appeals to the hidden and revealed will of God. According to God’s revealed will, elect but as of yet unregenerate sinners are unjustified. But according to the secret council of God, which has been transacted in Christ, the elect are justified. Second, abstractly considered the elect are justified; considered concretely, as long as a sinner is in a state of unbelief he stands unjustified. And, third, the sinner’s justified status coram Deo (i. e., in the pactum) only exists in his representative head, Christ: “They are said to be in themselves actually justified through Christ after faith, but they cannot be said to be justified of themselves without Christ, neither before nor after faith.”127 Goodwin summarizes the relationship between the pactum and justification in the following manner: From all eternity we were one with Christ by stipulation, he by a secret covenant undertaking for us; and answerably that act of God’s justifying us was but as we were considered in his undertaking. When Christ died and rose again, we were in him by representation, as performing it for us, and no otherwise; but as so considered we were justified. But now when we come in our persons, by our own consent, to be made one with him actually, then we come in our persons through him to be personally and in ourselves justified, and receive the atonement by faith.128

With this statement we come full circle to the point made by Savoy’s alteration to the Westminster Confession, “God did from all eternity decree to justify all the Elect, and Christ did in the fulness of time die for their sins, and rise again for their justification: Nevertheless, they are not justified personally, until the holy Spirit doth in due time actually apply Christ unto them.”129 The Savoy Declaration substantially codifies Goodwin’s three moments of justification and preserves the common distinction between the decree and its execution, or impetration and application.

126 127 128 129

Goodwin, Justifying Faith, I.xv (pp. 137–38). Goodwin, Justifying Faith, I.xv (p. 138). Goodwin, Justifying Faith, I.xv (p. 139), emphasis. Savoy Declaration, XI.iv, emphasis.

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Conclusion

We can identify a number of characteristics of the pactum salutis from this survey of English and Scottish versions of the doctrine. First, the doctrine is not based upon one or two isolated texts but rather an entire web of texts spread across the canon of Scripture. Advocates of the doctrine weave different threads together creating a tapestry of the work of the trinity in the redemption of fallen humanity. Numerous texts speak of Christ’s work as mediator, but they do so from different temporal and pre-temporal vantage points. On exegetical grounds, not speculative, various theologians detected covenantal language in the various passages of Scripture that reported and revealed the intra-trinitarian deliberations regarding salvation. Second, despite theologians’ shared conviction in the existence of a pretemporal intra-trinitarian covenant, there were many variations in the way they explained it, whether in cited texts or in the specific structure of the doctrine. Some place the covenant within the doctrine of the trinity and others locate it specifically in christology. But theologians from both viewpoints never engage one another on the question of the exact placement of the covenant. They quietly sail past each other beneath the moonlight as they contend for their respective arguments. Third, advocates of the pactum were well aware of a number of crucial issues. Some merely outline or assume the doctrine, while others engage different criticisms, such as the role of the Holy Spirit, the trinitarian nature of the doctrine as it relates to the trinity’s processions and missions, the doctrine of revelation, the dual nature of Christ, the doctrine of justification as it particularly relates to the imputation of Christ’s righteousness. These three basic trends provide data by which to compare Continental versions of the doctrine. In the following chapter we will largely explore the views of Herman Witsius along with other significant seventeenth-century figures such as Cocceius, Turretin, and Pictet. That chapter will also compare Continental views with the findings of this chapter about English and Scottish views to determine where the similarities and dissimilarities lie.

3.

Seventeenth-Century Continental Europe

3.1

Introduction

The first full-fledged explanation of the pactum salutis occurred with David Dickson’s (1583–1663) 1638 speech before the Scottish General Assembly, but the doctrine was by no means restricted to the British Isles. As previously noted, Herman Witsius (1636–1708) drew attention to the contributions of William Ames (1576–1633), Franciscus Gomarus (1563–1641), Johannes Cloppenburg (1592–1652), Gisbert Voetius (1589–1676), and John Owen (1616–83).1 Other continental theologians such as Wilhelmus à Brakel (1635–1711) also argued for the doctrine’s antiquity.2 This chapter will survey the doctrine of the pactum salutis in seventeenth-century continental formulations and do so primarily through the work of Herman Witsius, given his stature in seventeenth-century Europe. This chapter will follow the same methodology as the previous chapter, in that Witsius will provide the skeletal structure, and other continental theologians will form the tendons and muscles to illustrate the body of the continental doctrine of the pactum. Like English and Scottish theologians, continental theologians agreed about the presence of an intra-trinitarian covenant, but disagreed over many details. This chapter, therefore, will proceed with a survey of key exegetical texts, the definition and explanation of the pactum salutis, and an exploration of critical issues surrounding continental formulations. The chapter concludes with some observations about the development of the pactum in seventeenth-century continental Europe.

1 Herman Witsius, Economy of the Covenants Between God and Man: Comprehending a Complete Body of Divinity (1822; Escondido: Den Dulk Foundation, 1990), II.ii.16; idem, Oeconomia Foederum Dei Cum Hominibus Libri Quatuor (Basilae: apud Joh. Rudolphum Im-Hoff, 1739). 2 Wilhelmus à Brakel, The Christian’s Reasonable Service, 4 vols. Trans. Bartel Elshout (Morgan: Soli Deo Gloria, 1992), I:251.

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Exegesis

In distinction to British iterations of the doctrine, Witsius begins his exegetical argumentation with an appeal to Luke 22:29, “And I engage by covenant unto you a kingdom, as my Father hath engaged by covenant unto me.”3 In fact, the previously surveyed English and Scottish treatments, at least to my knowledge, do not cite Luke 22:29, whereas à Brakel, Francis Turretin (1623–87), and Johannes Cocceius (1603–69) do.4 Witsius does not explain the text with any detail other than to say that Christ received his kingdom by virtue of a covenant. There are several other texts to which Witsius appeals, chief of which are Hebrews 7:22, Galatians 3:17, and Zechariah 6:13. Witsius appeals to Hebrews 7:22 to prove that Christ was appointed as “surety of a better covenant or testament.”5 As surety Christ fulfills the requirements of the covenant on behalf of the elect. Just as Moses intervened on behalf of the Israelites so Christ intercedes for the elect but in a much greater way (Exo. 19:3– 8). Christ undertook the responsibility to perform the condition of the covenant, which involved making satisfaction for the sins of the elect and imputing to them his righteousness so that the law has no claim upon them whatsoever. Witsius brings these points forward in opposition to Socinian views on the satisfaction of Christ.6 The second text to which Witsius appeals is Galatians 3:17, where God confirmed a certain covenant or testament to Christ, and the two parties of this covenant were God the Father and Christ the Son. Witsius specifies that, though the promises of salvation come to the elect through Christ, they were first exclusively made to Christ (Gal. 3:16). Christ was the particular seed to whom the promises were made: “It is evident therefore, that the word διαθήκη does here denote some covenant or testament, by which something is promised by God to Christ. Nor do I see what can be objected to this, unless by Christ we should understand the head, together with the mystical body, which with Christ is that 3 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.ii.3. For a broad overview of Witsius’s doctrine of the pactum salutis see, J. Mark Beach, “The Doctrine of the Pactum Salutis in the Covenant Theology of Herman Witsius,” MAJT 13 (2002): 101–42. 4 Á Brakel, Christian’s Reasonable Service, I:255; Francis Turretin, Institutes of Elenctic Theology, 3 vols., ed. James T. Dennison, Jr., trans. George Musgrave Giger (Phillipsburg: P & R, 1992– 97), XII.ii.14; Johannes Cocceius, Summa Doctrinae de Foedere et Testamento Dei, in Opera Omnia theologica, exegetica, didactica, polemica, philologica, vol. 7 (Amsterdam: 1701), XIV. xxxiv.2 (p. 238). 5 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.ii.4. 6 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.ii.4; cf. The Racovian Catechism, ed. Thomas Rees (London: Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, 1818), V.viii (pp. 415–37); Alan W. Gomes, “De Jesu Christo Servatore: Faustus Socinus on the Satisfaction of Christ,” WTJ 55 (1993): 209– 31.

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one seed to which the promises are made.”7 Witsius identifies Christ as the chief recipient of the promises and his body, the church, as the secondary recipients. Whether Christ or his mystical body was the intended recipient of the covenant promises was a matter of debate among exegetes.8 Under his brief exposition of Galatians 3:17 Witsius refers to other texts to explain Christ’s role as covenant surety, such as Psalm 119:122, Isaiah 38:14, and Jeremiah 30:21. These three texts, according to Witsius, demonstrate that the surety must offer his whole being in service to God in order to procure the expiation of sins.9 The third text to which Witsius appeals is Zechariah 6:13. He argues that this is a brief prophecy concerning the person and offices of the Messiah. The fruit of this intra-trinitarian interaction is peace. Among the three chief texts that Witsius cites, he spends the greatest amount of space explaining and exegeting this passage. He explains that the prophet’s use of the term ‫ איש‬denotes a specific individual, “the man of thy right hand” (Psa. 80:17). And unlike other OT texts that portray Christ in his state of humility, Zechariah 6:13 reveals Christ in regal glory. Citing Rabbinic scholar Abraham Ibn Ezra (1089–1164), Witsius argues that the text addresses the establishment of the root of a new offspring, which would arise from the second Adam. These offspring, argues Witsius, are produced from the “branch” itself; they do not arise by man’s hand but from the “peculiar power of the Deity.” The Branch, therefore, is supposed to build the temple of the Lord, namely, the church of the elect (1 Tim. 3:15; Heb. 3:4; Matt. 16:18). The foundation of the church was established on the cross and cemented by Christ’s blood. Citing well-known Hebrew professor, Jacob Altingius (1618–79), Witsius argues that once Christ took his seat at the right hand of God he was supposed to make intercession for the people of God (Rom. 8:34).10 According to Altingius, Christ came into the world to perform the Father’s will and offered his body to

7 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.ii.5. 8 Cf. e. g., Samuel Rutherford, The Covenant of Life Opened: Or, a Treatise of the Covenant of Grace (Edinburgh: Robert Brown, 1654), II.vii (p. 312); Theodore Beza, ed., Iesu Christ D. N. Novum Testamentum (Geneva: 1606), comm. Gal. 3:16; Johannes Piscator, Analysis Logica Sex Epistolarum Pauli, videlicet Galatas, Ephesios, Philippenses, Colossenses, Utriusque ad Thessalonicenses (Herborn: Christoph Rab, 1589), comm. Gal. 3:16 (p. 34); Annotations Upon all the Books of the Old and New Testament (London: Evan Tyler, 1657), comm. Gal. 3:16; Giovanni Diodati, Pious and Learned Annotations upon the Holy Bible (London: Nicholas Fussell, 1648), comm. Gal. 3:16 (p. 239); David Pareus, In Divinam ad Galatas s. apostolic epistolam commentarius (Geneva: apud Petrum Aubertum, 1614), lect. XXXVIII (p. 180); Tommaso de Vio Cajetan, Epistolae Pauli et aliorum apostolorum (Paris: apud Hieronymum et Dionysiam de Marne Fratres, 1550), 241; Cornelius a Lapide, Commentaria in Omnes S. Pauli Epistolas (Antwerp: apud Martinum Nutium: 1621), comm. Gal. 3:16 (p. 467). 9 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.ii.6. 10 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.ii.7.

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sanctify the elect once and for all.11 Altingius stresses that the Messiah voluntarily submitted to the Father’s will of good pleasure (εὐδοκία) and performed it. He does not mention the pactum but does explain the core of the doctrine, namely, the Father’s commands to the Son and the Son’s voluntary submission to and execution of those commands. Nevertheless, Witsius asks the question, “But whence does all this proceed, and what is the origin of such important things?” The answer to this question is the consilium pacis, or council of peace, “which is between the man whose name is the Branch, and between Jehovah, whose temple he shall build, and on whose throne he shall sit” (Rev. 3:21).12 Witsius is well aware of the fact that not everyone agrees with his exegesis and he therefore engages two anticipated objections. The first objection is that Zechariah 6:13 speaks of the council of peace between Jews and Gentiles and not the Father and the Son. The second is that the verbs associated with the so-called council of peace are not given in the pluperfect or present tense, which would indicate a council deliberated in eternity, but in the future tense, which anticipates an as of yet established peace. This second objection appears to be connected to the first: that the council of peace is the effect of Christ’s priestly intercession, which brings about the future peace and unification of Jew and Gentile. In response to these objections Witsius leans upon the exegetical spadework of “the very learned” Ludovicus de Dieu (1590–1642).13 De Dieu notes the three different interpretive options: the text speaks either of agreement between Jehovah and the Branch, the Jews and Gentiles, or the agreement of the royal and priestly dignity of the two offices united in Branch. De Dieu contends that several key phrases in the text confirm that the agreement is between Jehovah and the Branch, which is the simplest and most perspicuous explanation. The Branch would sit upon Jehovah’s throne, and the agreement would be inter duo illa, “between the two of them.”14 Witsius notes that this interpretation was not novel but that Jerome (ca. 347–420) also came to the same conclusion.15 Witsius argues that advocates of the Jew-Gentile explanation merely assert their opinion rather 11 Jacob Altingius, Academicarum Dissertationum Heptades Duae: Prior Theologcarum, Posterior Philologicarum (Groningen: Aemilius Spinnker, 1671), dissert. VI, § XLIX (pp. 234–35). 12 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.ii.7. 13 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.ii.8. 14 Ludovicus de Dieu, Animadversiones In Veteris Testamenti Libros Omnes (Lugnuni Batavorum: Bonaventurae & Abrahami, 1648), comm. Zech. 6:13 (p. 728). 15 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.ii.8. Witsius likely has may have in Jerome’s commentary on Zechariah in mind where he argues that the council of peace exists between Yahweh and the Branch (cf. Jerome, Commentariorum in Zachariam Prophetam, in Patrologia Latina, vol. 25, ed. J. –P. Migne [Paris: 1845], 1458B-C; Byunghoon Woo, “The Pactum Salutis in the Theologies of Witsius, Owen, Dickson, Goodwin, and Cocceius,” [Ph.d Diss., Calvin Theological Seminary, 2015], 69–70, 76–77, 375).

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than prove it. In addition to his citations to de Dieu and Jerome, Witsius claims that nowhere in the context of the passage are Jews and Gentiles mentioned and that some interpreters illegitimately force this idea upon the text.16 Instead, Zechariah 6:13 simply reveals mutual consent between the Father and the Son about the redemption of the elect. Concerning the grammar of the verbs, Witsius explains that the OT frequently substitutes one tense for another, the future for the present. He draws attention to Psalm 17:3, “Thou hast tried me; and thou doest, or didst find nothing, literally thou shalt find.” In other words, even though Zechariah 6:13 employs a number of qal imperfect verbs indicating future events, “he shall build … he shall bear the glory … shall sit and rule … shall be a priest … and the counsel of peace shall be between them both,” they nevertheless reflect a decision that took place in eternity (cf. Acts 2:36). Witsius writes: “And if you entirely insist on the future tense, the meaning will be this: At the exaltation of Christ, and the peace advanced by him from heaven, there will be a manifest execution of this counsel.” Witsius counters this interpretation and argues: “For if by this counsel, we understand that agreement which subsisted between the Father and Christ, God-man, when assuming human nature, he appeared as the surety; the prophet might and ought to speak of it in the future tense.”17 Other continental theologians who cite Zechariah 6:13 in support of the pactum salutis on similar grounds as Witsius include à Brakel, Cocceius, Johannes Heidegger (1633–98), and Petrus van Mastricht (1630–1706).18 Beyond the three initial passages (Heb. 7:22; Gal. 3:17; Zech. 6:13), Witsius draws from frequently cited texts to demonstrate and prove the pactum salutis, such as instances when Christ calls God his Father and God, which are covenantal appellations (Psa. 22:3; 45:8; Isa. 49:4–5; John 20:17). Israel, for example, called Yahweh “our God” when they renewed the Mosaic covenant ( Josh. 24:18). But Witsius exercises a degree of independence; he does not always appeal to commonly cited texts in support of the pactum in the same manner as others. One such text was Psalm 16:2, “O my soul, thou hast said unto the Lord, Thou art my Lord: my goodness extendeth not to thee.” This text exhibits the servant-Lord covenantal pattern, in which the servant addresses his covenant Lord. This is why some advocates of the pactum, such as Cocceius, enlisted this text in support of the doctrine. Witsius did appeal to this text in support of the pactum, but he sought to prove far less than did others who cited it. Witsius engages Cocceius, 16 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.ii.8. 17 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.ii.8. 18 À Brakel, Christian’s Reasonable Service, I:254–55; Cocceius, Summa Doctrina, V.88 (p. 60); Johannes Heidegger, Corpus Theologiae Christianae (Tiguri: ex Officina Heideggeriana, 1732), XI.xii (p. 376); Petrus Van Mastricht, Theoretica-Practica Theologia, Tomus Primus (Renum: apud W. van de Water, J. v. Poolsum, J. Wagens, G. v. Paddenburg, 1724), V.i.35 (p. 503).

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who argues that Psalm 16:2 speaks of the Father accepting the Son’s obedience, which merits acquittal from sin for the elect and an inheritance.19 In this particular instance, Psalm 16:2 supposedly indicates that the Father addressed the Son: “I require nothing more of thee as a satisfaction to me, in order to display my grace.”20 But Witsius counters that such an interpretation does not best explain Psalm 16:2. He offers three points to refute Cocceius’s interpretation. First, nothing in the immediate context suggests that this is a dialogue between the Father and the Son. Rather, according to Johannes Piscator’s (1546–1625) superior exegesis, this is a monologue Christ.21 Second, if this text is Father-Son conversation, then it is reported in the most “slender terms.”22 In other words, if the Son did offer his obedience to the Father, then the Father’s purported approbation is very mild in contrast with other passages, such as Hebrews 1:4. Third, the term ( ‫“צל‬You are my Lord; I have no good apart from you [‫ )”]יךצלבל‬sometimes denotes owed payment or recompense. Citing de Dieu’s exegesis of Genesis 16:5, Witsius notes that the term can bear this meaning but does not appear to do so in this context: “For Christ was neither indebted to God for his goodness or grace, and the blessings depending upon it: Nor did he properly owe the grace of God to believers.”23 Instead, based upon the Rabbinic commentary of Moses ben Nahman (1194–1270) as well as the lexical research of Salomon Glassius (1593–1656), Witsius concludes: The Lord Jesus being deeply engaged in holy meditations, addresses his soul, or himself: and declares that while in his meditation he said to Jehovah the Father, thou art the Lord, all-sufficient to and by thyself for all happiness; and therefore by this whole work of my Meditation, and consequently by all my obedience, no accession of new or greater happiness is made to thee, nor canst thou be enriched by my satisfaction.24

Rather than interpret this passage as a dialogue between the Father and the Son, Witsius instead argues that it is, for all intents and purposes, Christ’s prayer or meditation.

19 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.ii.12; cf. Cocceius, Summa Doctrinae, V.93, in Opera Omnia, 62. 20 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.ii.12. 21 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.ii.13; cf. Johannes Piscator, Commentariorum in Omnes Libros Veteris Testamenti, Tomus Tertius (Herbornae: 1644), comm. Psa. 16 (pp. 131–33). 22 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.ii.13. 23 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.ii.13; cf. de Dieu, Animadversiones in Veteris Testamenti Libros Omnes, comm. Gen. 16:5 (p. 28). 24 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.ii.14; cf. Salomon Glassius, Philologiae Sacrae Qua Totius Sacrosanctae Veteris et Novitestamenti Scripturae (Francofurti et Hamburgi: 1653), 772–77, esp. 774–75.

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These exegetical conclusions caused a dispute among Dutch Reformed theologians during the late seventeenth century. In fact, Witsius somewhat apologetically offers this different interpretation because of his great respect for Cocceius. In spite of the fact that he learned much from his Dutch colleague, he did not blindly accept someone else’s exegesis. Witsius recounts how he was upbraided by Johannes van der Waeyen (1639–1701) for labeling Cocceius’s interpretation as “harsh” and “forced,” and that the Psalm had been “wrested to that meaning.” Witsius owns the fact that he formerly wrote such things about Cocceius’s exegesis but that he would rather now say that the purported exegesis was “harsh, not running so smoothly,” and that he retracted the rest of his critical remarks.25 This tempest in a teapot over the proper interpretation of Psalm 16:2 demonstrates that, though continental theologians agreed upon the doctrine of the pactum, they did not always agree upon its exegetical footing. And sometimes the debates over the proper exegetical support for the doctrine elicited heated exchanges.

3.3

Pactum salutis defined and explained

In his dogmatic construction Witsius defines the covenant of redemption in the following manner: “The will of the Father, giving the Son to be the Head and Redeemer of the elect; and the will of the Son, presenting himself as a Sponsor or Surety for them; in all which the nature of a compact and agreement consists.” To explain this definition Witsius divides his subject into two parts, the contracting parties and the nature of the covenant.26 In contrast to Cocceius, Witsius begins with the modest claim that, because Christ does call the Father his “Lord” in Psalm 16:2, the Father gave the Son a command. Witsius criticized Cocceius’s interpretation of this verse because his learned colleague located an entire intratrinitarian dialogue in this verse. Witsius, however, merely notes that Christ calls the Father, “Lord,” which is indicative of a covenant relationship, not a fullfledged discourse where the Father declares his approval of the Son’s obedience. Other evidence of the Son’s submission to the Father’s will appears in John 10:18: “This commandment I have received of my Father.” John 12:49 is also relevant: “The Father which sent me, he gave me a commandment.” Based upon these and several other passages, Witsius concludes that the Father and the Son are the two contracting parties in the covenant (Isa. 53:10–12; Psa. 2:8; 40:7–9; John 14:31; 25 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.ii.15; cf. Johannes van der Waeyen, Summa Theologiae Christianae: pars prior (Franequerae: apud Johannem Gyselaar, 1689), IV.cclxxv–cclxvii (pp. 355–56). 26 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.ii.10.

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Gal. 4:4; John 15:10; 8:29; 19:30; Isa. 49:4; John 17:4–5). The overall thrust of these citations and quotations is that the Father gave the Son a command and the Son willingly obeyed his Father.27 In addition to these texts, Witsius also appeals to Christ’s use of the sacraments. The sacraments were the signs and seals of the covenant of grace, and through their use the Father sealed the federal promises concerning the justification from sins. In Christ’s case, baptism was not for his own personal sins, but part of his voluntary submission to his Father’s will. And as his role as covenant surety, Christ was justified, or declared righteous (1 Tim. 3:16), and had eternal life bestowed upon him and his offspring. His arguments to this effect are not novel but find precedent, according to Witsius, in Voetius and Andreas Essenius (1618–77).28 When Witsius explains the nature of the pactum, he offers a full-fledged trinitarian construction. As with English and Scottish variants, Witsius explains that the consilium Dei produced the pactum salutis.29 According to Witsius there are three moments (tria momenta) to the pactum. The first is in the consilio Trinitatis: “Its commencement was in the eternal counsel of the adorable Trinity; in which the Son of God was constituted by the Father, with the approbation of the Holy Spirit, the Savior of mankind.” Hence, though the contracting parties are the Father and the Son, the Spirit nevertheless approved the Father’s move to constitute Christ as savior (1 Pet. 1:20; Prov. 8:23; Eph. 1:4; John 17:6; Rev. 13:8).30 In a way similar to English and Scottish formulations, Witsius places the pactum in christology rather than in the doctrine of the trinity. John Owen and James Durham (1622–58), however, included the Spirit in the pactum. It should be no surprise, then, that other continental theologians followed suit.31 Cocceius, for example, specifically states: “This council of peace (reconciliation with the enemy) … is of the whole sacred Trinity, though especially here in Zechariah 6:13 27 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.ii.10. 28 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.ii.11; cf. Gisbert Voetius, An et Qualem Fidem Habuerit Christus, et Quomodo Usus Sacramentis, in Selectarum Disputationum Theologicarum, Pars Secunda (Ultrajecti: Johannem a Waesberge, 1655), 155–164, esp. 160–62; Andreas Essenius, Dissertatio de Subjectione Christi ad Legem Divinam (Antonii Smytegelt, 1665), X.xi. 29 Cf. Patrick Gillespie, The Ark of the Covenant Opened: Or, a Treatise of the Covenant of Redemption Between God and Christ, as the Foundation of the Covenant of Grace. The Second Part (London: Thomas Parkhurst, 1677), 32–33; Samuel Rutherford, The Covenant of Life Opened: Or, a Treatise of the Covenant of Grace (Edinburgh: Robert Brown, 1654), II.vii (pp. 304–05). 30 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.iii.2. 31 John Owen, “Exercitation XXVIII: The Federal Transactions Between the Father and the Son,” in The Works of John Owen, vol. 19, ed. William H. Goold (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1862), 77; James Durham, Christ Crucified: or, The Marrow of the Gospel, Evidently holden forth in LXXII Sermons, on the whole 53 Chapter of Isaiah (Edinburgh: Andrew Anderson, 1683), serm. XXIII (pp. 157).

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it is the persons of the Father and the Son” (Rom. 5:20; Eph: 2:16; 2 Cor. 5:18). Cocceius, nonetheless, does not specify the specific nature of the Spirit’s role in the pactum.32 The second moment of the pactum appears in Christ’s intercession, which was initiated immediately upon the heels of the fall. Christ began to exercise his mediatory office at that moment. The Father constitutes Christ as mediator in the consilium Dei, but his appointment is decretal, not actual. According to Witsius the actual appointment does not occur until the historical event of the fall: “Thus Christ was actually constituted Mediator [actu Mediator constitutus], and revealed as such immediately upon the fall; and having undertaken the suretiship, he began to act many things belonging to the office of Mediator.” Christ revealed himself and his office through various OT shadows and types, such as through the prophets (Isa. 48:15; 1 Pet. 1:11, 3:19), the gathering of Israel as a kingdom of priests (Exo. 19:6), or the publication of the law at Sinai (Acts 7:38; John 12:41).33 The third moment of the pactum occurs when Christ assumed human nature. Through his incarnation the Son willingly “suffered his ears to be bored” (cf. Psa. 40:7; Heb. 10:5). That is, he “engaged himself as a voluntary servant to God, from love to his Lord the Father, and to his spouse the church, and his spiritual children.” Witsius notes that according to OT practice, voluntary servants had their ears bored (Exo. 21:5–6). Moreover, Christ was “made under the law” (Gal. 4:4), and by virtue of his circumcision made himself a debtor to the whole law (Gal. 5:3).34 By way of comparison, Turretin also discusses three periods (tres periodi) of the pactum, but has a different arrangement: (1) Christ’s appointment as mediator in the eternal trinitarian council (Prov. 8:23; 1 Pet. 1:20; Psa. 2:7–8); (2) immediately after the fall God offered himself for the actual performance of those things promised from eternity (1 Pet. 1:10–11; 3:19; 1 Cor. 10; Josh. 5:13); and (3) Christ’s incarnation (Heb. 10:5, 7). In summary, Turretin’s three periods are: destination, promise, and execution.35 Witsius’s three moments and Turretin’s three periods differ only slightly. Witsius places the actual appointment of 32 Johannes Cocceius, Disputationes Selectae, VI.xx, in Opera Omnia Theologica, Exegetica, Didactica, Polemica, Philologica, vol. 6 (Amsterdam: ex officina Johannis à Someren), 18: “Consilium hoc pacis (de reconciliatione videlicet hostium, Rom. 5.10; Eph. 2:16; 2 Cor. 5:18) est totius S. S. Trinitatis: imprimis tamen hic considerabilis est persona Patris & Filii.” Cf. idem, Summa Doctrinae, V.89 (p. 61); Willem J. van Asselt, The Federal Theology of Johannes Cocceius (1603–69) (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 233–34. 33 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.iii.3. 34 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.iii.3. 35 Turretin, Institutes of Elenctic Theology, XII.ii.15; idem, Institutio Theologiae Elencticae, 3 vols. (Edinburgh: John D. Lowe, 1847). For a brief overview of Turretin’s doctrine of the pactum salutis, see J. Mark Beach, Christ and the Covenant: Francis Turretin’s Federal Theology as a Defense of the Doctrine of Grace (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2007), 167–72.

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Christ as surety on the heels of the fall whereas Turretin seems to argue that Christ was already appointed but began to act on that appointment after the fall. If Christ, as surety, was supposed to offer his obedience to secure eternal felicity for himself and his bride, what was the specific nature of this reward? Because Christ obeyed him, the Father exalted and gave him the name that was above every other name in heaven and on earth (Eph. 1:21; Psa. 2:8; Isa. 53:10; Eph. 1:22; Matt. 28:29). And because of the mystical union between Christ and the church, all that Christ merited was bestowed on the elect (1 Cor. 12:12). Witsius points out that the apostle Paul followed the Septuagint’s translation of Psalm 68:18 when he wrote, “He gave gifts to men” (Eph. 4:8). That is, when Christ ascended to the Father’s right hand, he liberally poured out the gifts he received upon the church, chief of which was the Holy Spirit (Acts 2:33).36 In this regard, Witsius posits a cause and effect relationship between Christ’s obedience (merit) and the reward: “The obedience of Christ bears to these blessings, not only the relation of antecedent to consequent, but of merit to reward: so that his obedience is the cause, and the condition now fulfilled, by virtue of which he has a right to the reward” (Psa. 45:7; Isa. 53:12; Phil. 2:8; Heb. 12:2).37 How can Witsius posit a strict cause and effect relationship between Christ’s merit and his reward? The answer is: Christ’s labors were not as a mere man but as the God-man, and as an infinite person his work is of infinite value. Hence, Christ performs condign (full) merit, not congruent (half) merit.38 Witsius labors to demonstrate that Christ’s merit was not merely contractual and performed out of self-interest. Rather, Christ was motivated by love because, while his merit certainly brought him great reward, he condescended to the depths and pains of hell to redeem the elect. His merit and promised reward was not only for himself but also for the elect—this was an outpouring of love upon his mystical body.39 Christ’s loved his Father, manifest in his willing submission to him, but also loved his bride. For Witsius, love lies at the heart of the pactum salutis. Witsius was not merely posturing, that is, making theological arguments apart from exegesis. One of the texts he cites in several places is Philippians 2:9, “Wherefore God also hath highly exalted him, and given him a name which is above every name.” He was well aware that some argued that the term ἐχαρίσατο (“given”), had the term χάρις (“grace”) at its root, which could mean that Christ’s reward was not on the basis of strict justice but by the liberality of the Father’s grace. According to Witsius, Paul asserts that Christ was exalted because of his merit, his obedience. Citing patristic grammarian Hesychius of Alexandria (fl. 5th 36 37 38 39

Witsius, Economy of Witsius, Economy of Witsius, Economy of Witsius, Economy of

the Covenants, II.iii.31. the Covenants, II.iii.32. the Covenants, II.iii.33; cf. Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant, 69–70. the Covenants, II.iii.34.

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cent. ad), Witsius gives several examples where cognate terms were rendered as “do what is acceptable,” and did not denote anything related to grace. In this respect, Witsius concludes: “Because Christ submitted himself to the Father, by free or voluntary obedience, the Father therefore also rewarded him by giving him a name above every name.”40

3.4

Critical Issues

There are four critical issues that all build upon one another: (1) Christ’s merit and reward, (2) covenant terminology, (3) whether Christ was a fideiussor or expromissor in his role as surety, and (4) the distinction between active and passive justification. In the pactum, what does Christ’s merit accomplish and could he have withdrawn from the covenant with his Father? This question lies behind the nature of Christ’s merit and reward. Theologians also debated the specific theological terminology in their constructions of the pactum salutis. Some distinguished between the different Latin terms for covenant, pactum, foedus, and testamentum, while others used them interchangeably. Related to the definition of terms was the question of the precise nature of Christ’s role as surety. Did he conditionally or unconditionally act as surety? This is the specific question that lies behind two different terms, fideiussor versus expromissor, and the question of whether OT believers received the partial or full forgiveness of sins. In other words, how does an OT believer receive the forgiveness of sins before Christ’s incarnation and crucifixion? At what point does God forgive their sins and impute their guilt to Christ? And, correlatively, at what point does God impute Christ’s righteousness to believers? Continental theologians answer this last question with the distinction between active and passive justification.

3.4.1 Christ’s merit and reward Witsius addresses the subject of Christ’s obedience, which is multifaceted. He explains that Christ, as mediator and surety, was bound to perfect obedience, which was the means by which he and his offspring would partake of happiness (felicitas). Christ’s obedience was also necessary due to the penalty for the violation of God’s law. As surety Christ bore this penalty on behalf of the elect.41 By virtue of his incarnation, Christ would have naturally been required to submit to the law of God because all human beings are subject to God in this manner. But 40 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.iii.34. 41 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.iii.12.

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Christ was not incarnate as a mere man but as covenant surety, which means that he subjected himself to the law on behalf of his confederated subjects.42 At this point Witsius invokes the category of Christ’s active obedience. Christ’s active obedience forms the judicial ground by which the elect, through imputation, receive the title to eternal life. To prove this point, namely, the relationship between obedience and reward as that which secures eternal life for elect, Witsius again appeals to Philippians 2:9. Quoting the exegesis of Franciscus Gomarus (1563–1641), Witsius writes: “For our sake, he also veiled his glory for a time, which he might justly enjoy, and submitted to the cursed death of the cross; which, if we consider his merit and power, he might have declined.”43 In other words, Christ was under no obligation to assume the office of covenant surety on behalf of fallen sinners, but he was willing, and through his obedience he secured eternal life for the elect because he did so as the God-man. Christ interceded on behalf of the elect according to both natures, which stands in contrast to common Roman Catholic theologians who argued that he was mediator only according to his human nature.44 Roman Catholic theologians believed that a mediator communicates something from one party to another, which means that he must be distant from both parties, impartial. As God, therefore, the Son is not at a distance from the Father and Spirit, but as a man, he is distant from God in both nature and glory. The Son, as a man, therefore, serves as mediator.45 Against this position, Witsius contends that Christ was subject to the law, and hence imputed both his active and passive obedience, to the elect as the God-man. Given the theological climate, most notably the anti-trinitarian views of the Socinians, Witsius carefully maintained the doctrine of the trinity in his argument in favor of the God-man’s submission to the law.46 Christ’s submission “was neither a real renunciation, nor degradation of the divine superiority, but only a certain economical veiling of it for a time.”47 Witsius poses the 42 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.iii.13. 43 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.iii.14; cf. Franciscus Gomarus, Epistolae Pauli apostolis ad Philippenses Explicatio, in Opera Theologica Omnia (Amsterdam: Joannis Janssonii, 1644), comm. Phil. 2:9 (p. 193). 44 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.iii.16; cf. e. g., Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica (Reprint; Allen: Christian Classics, 1948), IIIa q. 26 a. 2; Edward Leigh, A Systeme or Body of Divinity Consisting of Ten Books (London: William Lee, 1654), V.iv (pp. 410–11); WCF VIII. vii. 45 Aquinas, Summa Theologica, IIIa, q. 26, art. 2. 46 The rise and frequency of the publication of anti-Socinian works demonstrates the perceived threat and danger to a number of doctrines including the trinity. See Alan W. Gomes, “Some Observations on the Theological Method of Faustus Socinus (1539–1604),” WTJ 70 (2008): 50 n. 2. For treatment of trinitarian questions in the British Isles, see Paul C. H. Lim, Mystery Unvieled: The Crisis of the Trinity in Early Modern England (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012). 47 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.iii.17.

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question, “Whether Christ as Mediator, is inferior to the Father, and subordinate to him.” He then appeals to the distinction between the ontological and economic trinity: “If the Mediator be considered in the state of humiliation, and the form of a servant, he is certainly inferior to the Father, and subordinate to him.”48 In other words, the Son qua God is completely and fully equal to the Father and Spirit. The Son qua the God-man, on the other hand, is voluntarily and economically subordinate to the Father (1 Cor. 15:28). Witsius stands in a common line of argumentation in which advocates of the pactum distinguished between the unique roles of the respective members of the godhead. Along these lines Cocceius makes a similar argument: “Indeed the will of the Father and the Son is the same, it is not diverse, because they are one; but, insofar as the Father is not the Son, or the Son the Father; the same will is appropriated distinctly in its own way to both, namely, one giving and sending, the other is given and is sent.”49 Á Brakel, for example, anticipates a similar type of question: “Since the Father and the Son are one in essence and thus have one will and one objective, how can there possibly be a covenant transaction between the two, as such a transaction requires the mutual involvement of two wills? Are we not separating the Persons of the Godhead too much?” In response, á Brakel replies: “As far as the Personhood is concerned the Father is not the Son and the Son is not the Father. From this consideration the one divine will can be viewed from a twofold perspective. It is the Father’s will to redeem by the agency of the second Person as Surety, and it is the will of the Son to redeem by His own agency as Surety.”50 In other words, the unified will of the triune God is to save the elect, but the Father does not submit to the Son. Rather, the Son submits to the Father’s will—he, not the Father, becomes incarnate to redeem the elect through his life, death, resurrection, and ascension. Witsius anticipates another question, namely, “Could the Son refuse to undertake, or withdraw himself from this covenant?” It seems that some critics raised the objection that if the Son voluntarily entered into a covenant with the Father, then he might have voluntarily refused to enter this covenant. Related to this issue is the question of the unity of God’s will. How could Christ will something different from the Father if they shared the same will? Once again Witsius replies with a distinction. If we consider the Son qua God there was no need to bind his will to the pactum salutis because of the unity of the will of the triune God. The Son qua man, however, voluntarily entered covenant and could 48 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.iii.20. 49 Cocceius, Summa Doctrinae, V.92 (p. 61): “Patris quidem & Filii voluntas eadem est, non disversa, quia & unum sunt; sed, quatenus Pater non est Filius, neque Filius Pater, eadem voluntas distincte & suo modo utrique appropriatur, scilicet alteri ut donanti & mittenti, alteri ut dato & misso.” 50 Á Brakel, Christian’s Reasonable Service, 1.252.

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not, without sin, disengage from it.51 Witsius argues this conclusion based upon four factors. First, as a man Christ was subject to the royal law of love, which means that he had to love God, first and foremost, and then love his neighbor. According to the law of love, then, he could not withdraw himself from the covenant because at its core, love demands that one lay down his life for his brothers ( John 15:13). Love as the motivating factor of the pactum appears in other explanations. À Brakel, for example, holds that the pactum “reveals a love which is unparalleled” and “exceeding all comprehension.” “Love moved the Father,” writes à Brakel, “and love moved the Lord Jesus. It is a covenant of love between those whose love proceeds from within themselves, without there being any loveableness in the object of this love.”52 Second, from eternity the Son committed to satisfy this covenant by taking on a human nature and obeying the law. To say that the human nature could have somehow withdrawn from the covenant would overthrow the inseparability of the hypostatic union. Third, God appointed, promised, and confirmed by an oath the covenant promises in Christ. If Christ had withdrawn from the covenant, it would have nullified the decree, God’s promises would have been proven deceitful, and the divine oath would have been falsified. In contrast to Remonstrant theology, Witsius contends: “For God did not only in general decree, promise, and confirm by oath, salvation to his elect; but salvation to be obtained by Christ and his obedience; which decree, promise and oath, could be accomplished no other way; not to say, how unworthy it is of God to be obliged to make new decrees after the former have miscarried.”53 According to Remonstrant theology, for example, even after Christ undertook his redemptive work he could have later withdrawn from his role as mediator.54 Fourth and last, Witsius rejects the idea that the human nature of Christ could have withdrawn from the covenant. He addresses this unthinkable hypothetical scenario because “some schoolmen” contended that Christ could have sinned, and therefore would have been damned. To Witsius’s mind, “These are the depths of Satan, which all Christians ought to pronounce accursed.”55

51 52 53 54

Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.iii.21. Á Brakel, Christian’s Reasonable Service, 1.263. Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.iii.24. See, e. g., Simon Episcopius, Apologia pro Confessione Sive Declaratione Sententiae Eorum (1630), XVII (fol. 187); idem, Responsio ad Defensionem Ioannis Camerionis, in M. Simonis Episcopii S. S. Theologiae in Academia Leydensi Quondam Professoris Opera Theologica (Amsterdam: Ioannis Blaeu, 1650), XII (p. 289); cf. Johannes Cloppenburg, Syntagma Exercitationum Selectarum, in Ioannis Cloppenburgii Theologica Opera Omnia (Amsterdam: Excudit Gerardus Borstius, 1684), I.xiii (p. 575). 55 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.iii.25. For a sample of the medieval discussion, see Peter Lombard, The Sentences, vol. 3, trans. Giulio Silano (Toronto: PIMS, 2008), III.xii.3.

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3.4.2 Covenant terminology Related to the issue of Christ’s merit in the pactum salutis is the question of the precise nature of this covenant. Was this intra-trinitarian agreement covenantal or testamentary? Some theologians considered these terms somewhat interchangeable, while others, saw a significant difference between them. Cocceius sharply distinguished between these two terms. For Cocceius a pactum or foedus was binary and conditional—there were two parties where each had to perform necessary requisite conditions.56 On the other hand, a testamentum was unitary and had no conditions—the superior party provided for all of the necessary conditions. Cocceius defined these terms in this manner to guard the integrity of the substitutionary work of Christ for fallen humanity.57 Cocceius argues that Christ’s covenant with the Father is conditional, as it hinges upon his obedience and fidelity to the Father’s will. Hence, the covenant of redemption is a pactum, binary and conditional. But the fruit of his work as covenant surety is the benefits of the covenant of grace, which is technically a testamentum (unconditional) because Christ has met all of the demands of the covenant. The only mere man in history that has stood in a conditional covenantal relationship with God is Adam in the foedus operum (“covenant of works”). Adam’s felicity and eternal life was conditional upon his obedience. In this respect Adam’s role as the first Adam is the analog to Christ’s work as the second Adam with several major differences: Adam was an unfaithful typological human covenantal servant and Christ is the faithful antitypical divine-human covenantal servant.58 Cocceius, for example, translates Luke 22:29, κἀγὼ διατίθεμαι ὑμῖν καθὼς διέθετό μοι ὁ πατήρ μου βασιλείαν as, “I testament to you just as a kingdom has been testamented to me by my Father.”59 Cocceius believed that testamentum was the best Latin term to translate the Greek term διαθήκη. Cocceius translates Hebrews 7:22 in like manner because “the Son was ἔγγυος Sponsor of a better testament.”60 Cocceius did make allowances for the necessity of the believer’s obedience by recognizing that the covenant of grace was testamentary, in that God provided all of the necessary requisite conditions. But in the testamentary covenant of grace, Cocceius argues that God employs a binary conditional ele56 See, e. g., Johannes Cocceius, Aphorismi per Universam Theologiam Prolixiores, in Opera Omnia theologica, exegetica, didactica, polemica, philologica, vol. 7 (Amsterdam: 1701), disp. XVIII.xix (p. 24). 57 Brian J. Lee, “The Covenant Terminology of Johannes Cocceius: The Use of Foedus, Pactum, and Testamentum in a Mature Federal Theologian,” MAJT 14 (2003): 28. 58 Johannes Cocceius, Summa Doctrinae de Foedere et Testamento Dei, in Opera Omnia, 3rd. ed., vol. 7 (Amsterdam: Johannis a Someren, 1701), V.90 (p. 61); Lee, “Covenant Terminology,” 30. 59 Cocceius, Summa Theologiae, XIV.xxxiv.2 (p. 238). 60 Cocceius, Summa Doctrinae, V.88 (p. 61).

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ment in this testament to provide a platform for believers to respond with obedience. In other words, believers may boldly approach God because he gives them through his testament what he covenantally requires of them.61 Some continental theologians were uninterested in these fine-toothed distinctions. Benedict Pictet (1655–1724), for example, only briefly mentions the pactum in his exposition of the covenant of grace. Pictet employs foedus for both the covenants of works and grace and calls the agreement between the Father and the Son a pactum, but he does not appear to distinguish these terms whatsoever. He also calls the covenant of grace, for example, a pactum. Rather than rest the nature of the covenant of grace in the use of a specific Latin term, he accomplishes his goal by defining the covenant of grace, or pactum, as “a free and gratuitous agreement between an offended God and offending man, in which God promises to man pardon and salvation through the merits and satisfaction of Christ, and man on his part promises faith and obedience.”62 Other theologians such as Witsius took something of a mediating approach between the views of Cocceius and Pictet. Witsius defines a covenant (foedus) as “an agreement [conventio] between God and man, about the way of obtaining consummate happiness.”63 Witsius also uses the term foedus for the covenants of works and grace but distinguishes between them by explaining their differences. The covenant of works requires perfect obedience whereas the mediator fulfills this requirement in the covenant of grace. Christ performs the necessary and requisite conditions on behalf of the elect in the covenant of grace. Nowhere in this discussion does Witsius invoke testamentum.64 And unlike Cocceius, Witsius renders διατίθεμαι of Luke 22:29 as paciscor, not testamentum.65 But in his discussion of the pactum, Witsius employs the term testamentum without fanfare. 61 Lee, “Covenant Terminology,” 34. 62 Benedict Pictet, Christian Theology, trans. Frederick Reyroux (London: R. B. Seeley and W. Burnside, 1834), XVII (p. 325); idem, Theologia Christiana (London: R. Baynes, 1820), VIII. xxiv.3 (p. 270). 63 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, I.i.9. 64 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, I.i.15. 65 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.ii.3. Beach claims that Witsius translates Luke 22:29 by using the term testamentum rather than paciscor; he cites the 1677 Leeuwarden edition (Beach, Christ and the Covenant, 168–69 n. 48). I have consulted both the 1739 and 1712 editions and in both places Witsius employs the term paciscor, not testamentum (Herman Witsius, Oeconomia Foederum Dei cum Hominibus Libri Quatuor, Editio Quarta [Herdornae Nassaviorum: Iohannis Nicolai Andreae, 1712]). It appears that in earlier editions, Witsius embraced Cocceius’s translation of Luke 22:29 but then later changed his mind. The 1685 Leeuwarden second edition employs testamentum but by the 1694 third edition Witsius employs paciscor (cf. Herman Witsius, Oeconomia Foederum Dei cum Hominibus Libri Quatuor, Editio Secunda [Leovardiae: apud Jacobum Hagenaar, 1685]; idem, Oeconomia Foederum Dei cum Hominibus Libri Quatuor, Editio Tertia [Trajecti ad Rhenum: apud Franciscum Halmam, Gulielmum van de Water, 1694]).

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Regarding Christ’s role as covenant surety, Witsius mentions Hebrews 7:22, where Christ “is said to be a surety of a better covenant or testament [Foederis, vel Testamenti Sponsor].”66 Rather than sharply distinguish between the two terms (foedus and testamentum), he simply recognizes that this particular covenant has a testamentary character. In his explanation, for example, of the covenant grace, Witsius explains that two things are necessary to comprehend it: 1st. The covenant which intervenes between the Father and Christ the Mediator [e. g. pactum salutis]. 2ndly. That testamentary disposition [testamentaria illa dispositio], by which God bestows by an immutable covenant, eternal salvation, and everything relative thereto, upon the elect. The former agreement is between God and the Mediator: the latter, between God and the elect. This last presupposes the first, and is founded upon it.67

Rather than employ fine-toothed definitions for the various Latin terms for covenant (foedus, pactum, testamentum), Witsius simply notes the specific nature of the covenant of grace. Stated briefly, not all covenants are created equal; covenants embrace a variety of factors and are in no way monolithic.

3.4.3 Fideiussor or Expromisso? Another pactum-related issue pertains to the precise nature of Christ’s role as covenant surety in the unfolding of the pactum salutis in redemptive history. Once again Cocceius was at the center of a debate over his employed terminology. Cocceius contended that there was a difference between the forgiveness of sins under the OT versus the NT. In the OT, God passed over (πάρεσις) sins (Rom. 3:25) whereas under the NT he forgives them (ἀφίημι). Cocceius employed these terms to delineate the difference between these two economies of redemptive history. The different terms denote the fact that OT believers did not receive the actual forgiveness of sins and were therefore not fully saved. Complete forgiveness and hence salvation could not be fully realized until after death.68 By this distinction Cocceius ignited a debate between his students and those associated with Voetius over the precise nature of Christ’s role as surety in the pactum salutis. Debate participants likely increased the heat and intensity of their discourse given the fact that Christ’s role as surety and therefore the nature of his

66 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.ii.4. 67 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.ii.1. 68 Willem J. van Asselt, “Expromissio or Fideiussio? A Seventeenth-Century Theological Debate Between Voetians and Cocceians about the Nature of Christ’s Suretyship in Salvation History,” MAJT 14 (2003): 39.

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intercessory satisfaction was a specific point of debate between the Reformed and Socinian theologians.69 The specific pactum-related question revolves around Christ’s role as surety. If he was appointed covenant surety in the pactum salutis in eternity, then how could the Cocceians distinguish between two forms of forgiveness of sins? 70 To answer this question Cocceius appealed to a term derived from Roman law. In antiquity there were two types of sureties, an expromissio and a fideiussio. A fideiussio was a conditional suretiship—debt was transferred to another but the debtor was still obligated to repay the debt. An expromissio was an absolute surety, one where the debt was erased because the surety paid it in full.71 Hence, for the Cocceians, Christ was a fideiussor (conditional surety) for OT believers and an expromissor (unconditional surety) for NT believers.72 This terminological distinction drew praise and criticism, acceptance and rejection. Salomon Van Til (1643–1714) and Heidegger sided with Cocceius. Melchior Leydekker (1642–1721) and Voetius opposed the Cocceian distinction, while others, such as Franz Burman (1628–79) offered a mediating position.73 Heidegger, for example, argued that the forgiveness of sins could not be truly activated before the proper time, which required Christ’s suffering and death on the cross.74 Representatives from both sides of the debate wrestled with the nexus between the eternal pactum salutis and its execution in time. At what specific point were the sins of the elect forgiven? For NT believers, the answer to this question is easy because they live after the payment has actually been offered through Christ’s incarnation and crucifixion. But the question is more complex for OT believers since they lived before the incarnation of Christ. There were three key objections against the Voetians and the idea of expromissio (unconditional surety): (1) Christ could not be an absolute surety in the pactum salutis because this would make him a debtor, which would suggest that God himself is somehow guilty of sin; (2) expromissio would render the incarnation and crucifixion unnecessary because the sin had already been paid; and (3) the position cannot account for Colossians 2:14, that God forgave our sins “by canceling the record of debt that 69 70 71 72 73

Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.v.2; Van Asselt, “Expromissio or Fideiusso,” 41. Van Asselt, “Expromissio or Fideiusso,” 44. Van Asselt, “Expromissio or Fideiusso,” 45. Van Asselt, “Expromissio or Fideiusso,” 46. Van Asselt, “Expromissio or Fideiusso, 46, 48–49; cf. Heidegger, Corpus Theoloigae, XI.lxxix (pp. 406–07); Salomon Van Til, Antidotum Viperinis Morsibus D. J. Oppositum (Lugduni Batavorum: Jordanus Luchtmans, 1707), 1–11; Melchior Leydekker, Vis Veritas, seu Disquisitionum ad Nonnullas Controversias, quae hodie in Belgio potissimum moventur, de Oeconomia Foederum Dei (Trajecti ad Rhenum: apud Franciscum Halma, 1679), V.ii, iii, xii (pp. 36–68, 307–63); Franz Burman, Synopsis Theologicae, 2 vols. (Geneva: Ioannis Picteti, 1678), II.xv (488–96). 74 Heidegger, Corpus Theoloigae, XI.lxxix (p. 407).

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stood against us with its legal demands. This he set aside, nailing it to the cross.”75 In other words, the debt was not actually canceled until the crucifixion and not a moment sooner. Even though he was nestled in the safety of Geneva far away from the Dutch theological battle, Turretin nevertheless engaged the subject from afar in two questions in his Institutes.76 In the first question he asks, “Whether Christ under the Old Testament had only the relation of a surety fideiussoris or also of a surety expromissoris? The former we deny; the latter we affirm.”77 In his typically indepth and precise manner Turretin delves into the definition of the terms from Roman law and cites examples from Justinian (ca. 482–565).78 He then indicates that the opinion of “the orthodox” is that Christ was not merely a fideiussor but an expromissor. He takes this position for a number of reasons, first of which includes the fact that contemporary legal scholars did not recognize a great difference between the terms and used them interchangeably. Turretin cites the opinions of French legal expert, Jacques Cujas (1520–90) to corroborate his opinion.79 Turretin also takes issue with the fact that extra-biblical legal terms were employed to determine the nature of Christ’s work. He acknowledges that, while in a legal setting the terms may be slightly different, we do not think in this argument it is fitting to have recourse to political tribunals, that the nature of Christ’s suretyship may be explained according to legal formulas. It is evident that there is a very wide difference between the court of earth and the court of heaven, and we here treat not of the human, but of the divine judgment, not of pecuniary debt and a mortal creditor, but of a penal debt and of God, the Judge and ruler of the world.80

Turretin does not invoke the terms, but here he appears to invoke the categories of general and special revelation. Legal categories, such as those informing Roman jurisprudence, should not govern special revelation. Rather, special revelation governs theological formulation. Turretin nevertheless acknowledges that, if the two terms must be employed, Christ’s work as surety comes closer to expromissio rather than fideiussio. Christ’s office as surety involves the perfect and immutable will of Christ according to the eternal counsel of the Father to make satisfaction for the sins of the elect. This, according to Turretin, “necessarily implies by that very thing a real transference of the debts to him and the full deliverance and immunity of those 75 Van Asselt, “Expromissio or Fideiusso,” 49. 76 Van Asselt, “Expromissio or Fideiusso,” 51. For an overview of Turretin’s analysis of this debate, see Beach, Christ and the Covenant, 286–99. 77 Turretin, Institutes, XII.ix. 78 Turretin, Institutes, XII.ix.3. 79 Turretin, Institutes, XII.ix.4. 80 Turretin, Institutes, XII.ix.4.

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for whom he agreed.”81 This payment was made “according to the counsel of God.” But how does Turretin explain this full payment and transfer of debt made in the eternal counsels of God, presumably in the pactum salutis? Turretin writes: “It is one thing to demand of Christ a debt for present payment; another to lay iniquities upon him, and impute them to him. A debt can be imputed to the surety long before it is demanded for present payment.” Citing Isaiah 53:5, God “laid on him the iniquity of us all,” Turretin claims that the sins of the elect were not laid on him when they were actually demanded of him. Rather, the sins of the elect were imputed to him in the eternal counsel of God.82 On this point, Turretin also invokes Revelation 13:8, which speaks of the Lamb slain before the foundation of the world. Christ was designated by this title even though his personal sacrifice would not transpire for many ages.83 But Turretin also invokes the category of eternity and its specific nature to explain how God viewed the temporal-historical unfolding of the plan of redemption. “Since the works of God are known to him from eternity (Acts 15:18),” writes Turretin, “by the light of omniscience that sponsion was observed by God not only as future, but even as present, yea, as actually performed; and its efficacy gave the same benefits to the fathers which we enjoy, which a mere fideiussio could not have conferred.”84 But Turretin does not collapse redemptive history into an eternal present. He recognizes the tension between an eternal God who nevertheless relates to his temporal creation. In response to the criticism that if Christ was an expromissio, then he would be a debtor and guilty of sin in eternity, Turretin replies with the distinction between the ontological and economic trinity. In the eternal counsel Christ bore the curse because of his economic and vicarious work on behalf of the elect, not by virtue of his ontological status. Christ was not considered barely as the Logos, the Word, but economically as the Godman.85 At this point, it appears that Turretin completely sided against the Cocceians, but in the following question he offers some qualifications. He asks “whether the fathers under the OT can be said to have been still under the wrath of God and the curse of the law, and to have remained under the guilt of sin even until the death of Christ; nor had aphesin or a full and properly so-called remission of sins been made, but only a paresin.” Turretin’s response is typically scholastic: “We make distinctions.”86 In his mind the specific question concerns the efficacy of Christ’s sacrifice as it is typified in the OT. Did OT saints receive the full remission of sins 81 82 83 84 85 86

Turretin, Institutes, XII.ix.5. Turretin, Institutes, XII.ix.6. Turretin, Institutes, XII.ix.7. Turretin, Institutes, XII.ix.8. Turretin, Institutes, XII.ix.15. Turretin, Institutes, XII.x.

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by virtue of Christ’s future death? 87 Turretin carefully parses the two periods of redemptive history, OT and NT, by echoing Paul’s language of minors under the tutelage of a schoolmaster versus emancipated adults (cf. Gal. 4:1–2). Old Testament saints were certainly under the yoke of the law in a manner unlike that of NT believers, but their existence under this state of terror did not mean they were under the wrath of God and the guilt of sin.88 Old Testament believers enjoyed the full benefits of Christ’s suretiship, which means that their sins were transferred to Christ in the eternal counsel of God.89 They were also partakers of the covenant of grace and through their union with Christ were in a covenanted communion with God, which entitled them to all of the blessings of redemption. By virtue of their justification, they were freed from the curse of the law. Consider, for example, the OT examples of Abraham, Jacob, Job, David, Hezekiah, and others who testified of the joy and consolation that followed from their apprehension of Christ’s righteousness by faith.90 Among numerous other points, Turretin delves into the lexical data concerning the two biblical terms, πάρεσις and ἀφίημι. He draws upon ancient and contemporary sources, Hesychius and Guillaume Budé (1467–1540), as well as the Septuagint, to prove that ἀφίημι was applied to OT believers as well as NT believers (Psa. 32:1; 85:2; Isa. 55:7; Exo. 34:7; Pss. 65:3; 130: 3; 103:3; Mic. 7:18–19).91 Turretin also supports these citations by appealing to Hebrews 9:15, “And for this cause he is the mediator of the new testament, that by means of death, for the redemption of the transgressions that were under the first testament, they which are called might receive the promise of eternal inheritance.” The forgiveness of sins, even for OT believers, was applied before Christ’s incarnation and crucifixion because he was designated the propitiation for their sins.92 Under the OT, however, believers only saw the shadows and types of Christ’s as of yet future intercessory work.93 But with the advent of Christ, the types gave way to the antitype; the legal economy of the OT was ultimately abrogated.94 Witsius represents a mediating position in this debate. Based upon the work of Jacob Altingius, Witsius embraces a threefold understanding of the forgiveness (ἀφίημι) of sin: (1) taking away, (2) transferring, and (3) expiating sin.95 Taking away sin requires the removal of guilt (Exo. 34:7; Psa. 99:8; 32:5; 85:2; 25:18). 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95

Turretin, Institutes, XII.x.3. Turretin, Institutes, XII.x.8. Turretin, Institutes, XII.x.9. Turretin, Institutes, XII.x.10, 13. Turretin, Institutes, XII.x.15. Turretin, Institutes, XII.x.18. Turretin, Institutes, XII.x.24. Turretin, Institutes, XII.x.30. Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, IV.xii.43; Van Asselt, “Expromisso or Fideiusso,” 50.

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Transferring sin involves removing the sin from the sinner and imputing it to the surety (2 Sam. 12:13; Zech. 3:4; 2 Sam. 24:10; Eccl. 11:10). And the expiation of sin is the act by which the surety (fideiussor) actually bears the penalty for the transferred, or imputed, guilt. This last step, expiation, produces a full and complete remission of sins. Witsius reasons that under the OT, believers did not receive this last step (expiation) because Christ had not yet suffered crucifixion. But believers were nevertheless in full possession of the first two degrees of forgiveness.96 Witsius represents of a half-way house between the Cocceians and Turretin, as he rejects the distinction between πάρεσις and ἀφίημι, but offers his own dissection of the nature of the forgiveness of sins. But he was still willing to embrace the term fideiussor despite his disagreement with the Cocceians. In all of these positions, the respective representatives wrestled with the question of how the pactum salutis unfolds in history. When, precisely, were the sins of the elect imputed to Christ? Although Turretin’s treatment of the subject is dispassionate, these debates were by no means tame. Given the ever-present threat of encroaching Socinianism, advocates for these different views at times fiercely argued their positions. Witsius laments: I am indeed, sorry, that such resentment dwells in heavenly breasts, however I think, that I must take care lest either the passions of others, or my own, should at any time cloud my mind in the discernment of truth. Sacred candor! descend and gently glide into our soul, that, with the greatest cheerfulness, we may receive what is well said, even from those who are displeased with us: and with equal readiness disclaim what we ourselves may have less accurately advanced.97

Witsius was deeply concerned about scholastic precision but it had to be wedded to the greatest charity and piety towards his colleagues.

3.4.4 Active and passive justification The debate about the nature of the forgiveness of sins was about the timing of the imputation of the sins of the elect to Christ. Given that Reformed theologians promoted a twofold imputation, questions and distinctions naturally arose regarding the timing of the imputation of Christ’s righteousness to the elect. On this question Witsius explains that faith in Christ is necessary for justification, and when a person believes in him, only then can he claim Christ, not simply by right, but by possession.98 In accepting Christ, the believer takes possession of his 96 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, IV.xii.43. 97 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, IV.xii.43. 98 The type of distinction between right and possession as a category by which to understand the extra nos of imputation goes back at least to Martin Luther (1483–1546). Luther distinguishes

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righteousness and is thereby justified. By the “secret counsel of God” (arcano Dei consilio) the trinity applies righteousness to the believer’s account in the decree but it only becomes an actual possession and saving benefit through its reception by faith alone.99 In fact, Witsius states that the elect, prior to regeneration, are like any other non-elect person—they are in a state of darkness, children of wrath, condemned to bondage through fear of death, subject to the curse of the law, without God, and without Christ in the world.100 For Witsius, then, there is a clear line between the decree to justify the elect, which takes place in the pactum, and the justification by faith of the elect in history. Witsius accounts for this imputation through the covenantal connection between Christ and the elect by means of a threefold union: the union of the decree (in aeterno Dei decreto), the union of eternal consent (unione confoederationis aeternae), by which Christ is constituted federal head of the elect in the pactum, and the true and real union (vera et reali unione), which occurs through regeneration and faith.101 The decree to justify the elect, then, occurs in the decretal union and is executed in time via the true and real union. In many ways these different aspects of union with Christ parallel Thomas Goodwin’s (1600–80) tria momentia of justification: believers are justified in the decree of election, through the resurrection of Christ, and by faith alone when the believer personally apprehends Christ.102 Witsius further distinguishes between the decretal and real unions through the use of the distinction between active and passive justification, which other theologians embrace, such as Leonard Rijssen (ca. 1636–1700), Johannes Marckius (1656–1731), Bartholomäus Keckerman (ca. 1571–1608), and Johannes Heidegger.103 Witsius explains that though the righteousness of Christ belonged

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between proprietas (“property”) and possessio (“possession”) (see Martin Luther, The Freedom of the Christian, in LW 31:333–77, esp. 352–54; idem, Tractatus De Libertate Christiana, in D. Martin Luthers Werke, Teil 1, Band 7 [1897; Weimar: Verlag Hermann Böhlaus Nachfolger, 2003], 49–70, esp. 55–56). In context, Luther discusses union with Christ (or the “royal marriage” between Christ and the believer). Cf. Heiko A. Oberman, The Dawn of the Reformation: Essays in Late Medieval and Early Reformation Thought (1986; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1992), 121; J. Todd Billings, “Luther and Calvin on Union with Christ: Their Retrieval and Development of a Biblical, Catholic, and Reformational Motif,” (Paper presented at the Calvin Studies Society Colloquium, April 7–9, 2011), 14–15. Herman Witsius, Animadversiones Irenicae (Utrecht: 1696); idem, Conciliatory, or Irenical Animadversions on the Controversies agitated in Britain, under the Unhappy Names of Antinomians and Neonomians, trans. Thomas Bell (Glasgow: W. Lang, 1807), V.viii (pp. 64– 65). Witsius, Animadversions, V.ii (p. 61). Witsius, Animadversions, VI.ii–iv (pp. 62, 68) Thomas Goodwin, The Objects and Acts of Justifying Faith, in The Works of Thomas Goodwin (1861–64; Eureka: Tanski Publications, 1996), I.xv (pp. 135–37). On active and passive justification see Turretin, Institutes, XVI.ix.11; Leonard Rijssen, Compendium Theologiae Didactico-Elencticae (Amsterdam: 1695), XIV (pp. 145–46); Johannes Marckius, Compendium Theologiae Christianae Didactico-Elencticum (1716; Am-

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to him, as it was wrought by him, it also belongs to the believer. In what sense? Even before a person believes or exercises faith the righteousness of Christ belongs to him by right ( juris) because of the decree of God. It becomes a possession (possessione) in the actual translation of a person from the state of wrath to the state of grace. Witsius embraces the distinction between active and passive justification to explain the difference between the right to and possession of Christ’s imputed righteousness. Active justification is “that sentence of God, by which he declares his having received satisfaction from Christ, and pronounces that all the elect are made free from guilt and obligation to punishment, even before their faith, so far as never to exact of them any payment.” Passive justification, on the other hand, “is the acknowledgement and sense of that most sweet sentence, intimated to the conscience by the Holy Spirit, and fiducially apprehended by each of the elect.” Active justification precedes faith and passive justification follows it.104 Witsius adds still yet another layer of distinctions with his ideas of general and particular justification. Justification is a forensic act, but there are nonetheless “various articles” (variis articulus) of justification. The first article is the absolution, or justification, of “all the elect in general collected in to one mystical body” and the second is the justification of each person individually or particularly. With respect to the general sentence, the first article of this justification occurred immediately upon the fall. Witsius writes that this general justification “is the first effect of Christ’s suretiship, the declaration of that counsel of God, by which he had purposed to justify the ungodly; and not to impute sin to those who are interested as heirs in the testament.”105 One should coordinate general justification with Witsius’s three moments of the pactum, in eternity, after the fall, and at the incarnation.106 The second article of this general justification is connected to the “time in which God declared that full satisfaction was made to his justice by a dying Christ” (2 Cor. 5.19). Witsius contends that God “at once reconciled to himself the whole world of his elect; and declared that he would not impute their trespasses to any of them, on account of the perfect satisfaction of Christ.” Witsius continues, “For, when he raised Christ from the dead, he gave him a discharge, in testimony that the payment was made; and when he rent the veil of the temple, he also tore the hand writing consisting in ordinances, which, till that time, loudly sterdam: 1749), XXII.xxiii, XXIV.iii; Bartholomäus Keckerman, Systema S. S. Theologiae (Hanau: 1602), III.vii.3; Heidegger, Corpus Theologiae, XXII.lxxviii; cf. Heinrich Heppe, Reformed Dogmatics: Set Out and Illustrated from the Sources, trans. G. T. Thomson, ed. Ernst Bizer (London: George Allen & Unwin Ltd, 1950), 555–59. 104 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.vii.16. 105 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, III.viii.57. 106 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.iii.2–3.

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proclaimed that payment was not yet made.”107 The two stages of general justification, then, are on the heels of the fall, which is based upon Christ’s office as surety (the second moment of the pactum), and at the crucifixion of Christ (the third moment of the pactum). But at this point, the believer has not yet personally appropriated justification. Particular justification only occurs when a person is regenerated and united to Christ by faith, when he is actually translated from a state of condemnation to a state of grace. Once Christ receives a person by faith, or is in true and real union with him, “God declares in the court of heaven (in foro coeli), that he is no longer under wrath, but under grace.” This is the first article of particular justification. But Witsius stipulates that a person might be justified but ignorant of the heavenly verdict passed over him. Hence, the second article of particular justification is when the declaration of justification is “intimated, and insinuated to the conscience by the Holy Spirit; so that the believer knows, feels, and experiences, that his sins are forgiven.”108 The third article of particular justification is after a person is actively and passively justified when he is “admitted to familiar converse with God, and to the mutual participation of the most delightful friendship.”109 Layers of distinctions burden Witsius’s explanation of justification, that is, the categories of active-passive and general-particular justification. Others, such as Turretin, offer a more concise presentation. He divides justification into two phases. First, justification occurs in the decree, where grace was “given to us in Christ before the world began” (2 Tim. 1:9), or in terms of its execution through Christ’s work on the cross (Rom. 5:9–10; Col. 1:20; Rom. 4:25). Second, it occurs when the believer is first called, or upon his death when it is publicly declared, although Turretin stipulates that this public declaration on the last day is not a justification but “a solemn declaration of the justification once made and an adjudication of the reward, in accordance with the preceding justification.”110

3.5

Conclusion

This survey of seventeenth-century continental formulations of the pactum reveals a number of notable differences from their English and Scottish counterparts. Continental theologians advocate the same doctrine, support it from many of the same texts, and develop similar distinctions to explain the relationship 107 108 109 110

Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, III.viii.58; cf. Savoy Declaration XI.iv. Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, III.viii.59–60. Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, III.viii.61. Turretin, Institutes, XVI.ix.11.

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between the pactum in eternity and its execution in time. The same variations occur with respect to the placement of the pactum, whether it belongs to the doctrine of the trinity or more specifically to christology. At the same time, continental formulations demonstrate that theologians exercised a degree of independence, whether in exegesis, differences of opinion regarding specific terminology, or the timing of the double-imputation. Discussions about the timing produced further distinctions, such as active-passive and general-personal justification. There are two noteworthy observations about these continental developments. First, these discussions largely occurred among continental theologians. If English and Scottish theologians were aware of them, they did not mention them in their own works. Nor do these terminological issues or questions about the nature of Christ’s suretiship arise. Second, when the doctrine took confessional form its expression was simplified, despite the multiplication of distinctions in the works of individual theologians. Like its English counterpart in the Savoy Declaration (1658), the Formula Consensus Helvetica (1675) states the following: As Christ was from eternity elected the Head, Prince, and Lord (Haeres) of all who, in time, are saved by His grace, so also, in time, He was made Surety of the New Covenant only for those who, by the eternal Election, were given to Him as His own people, His seed and inheritance. For according to the determinate counsel of the Father and His own intention, He encountered dreadful death instead of the elect alone, restored only these into the bosom of the Father’s grace, and these only he reconciled to God, the offended Father, and delivered from the curse of the law.111

The authors, Turretin and Heidegger, do not invoke the term pactum salutis, or any of its variants, but they do set forth the substance of the doctrine. They also preserve the distinction between the decree and its execution in time, but they bypass all of the hotly debated details. If the codification of the pactum salutis represents the height of the seventeenth-century acceptance of this doctrine, then questions naturally arise regarding its reception in subsequent church history. How did eighteenth- and nineteenth-century theologians explain the doctrine? We turn to answer this question in the next chapter.

111 Francis Turretin and Johannes Heidegger, “Formula Consensus Helvetica,” XIII, in A. A. Hodge, Outlines of Theology (1860; Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1991), Appendix II, 659; idem, “Formula Consensus Helvetica,” in Die Bekenntnisschriften der reformierten Kirche, ed. E. F. Karl Müller (Leipzig: A. Deichertsche Verlagsbuchhandlung Nachf., 1903), 865; cf. Beach, Christ and the Covenant, 20.

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The Eighteenth Century

4.1

Introduction

The sixteenth and seventeenth centuries represent the bedrock of the development of the pactum salutis. These two centuries witnessed the initial development and formulation of the doctrine, which culminated in a number of confessional expressions, substantively in the Three Forms of Unity and the Westminster Standards, explicitly in the Savoy Declaration, Formula Consensus Helvetica, and Second London Confession. If these different doctrinal and confessional documents represent the script for a theological drama, in the eighteenth century subsequent Reformed theologians took great liberties and departed from this script. For different reasons, theologians improvised their own scripts on a number of issues related to the pactum salutis. To explore these different variations on the pactum salutis, this chapter surveys two key figures: John Gill (1697–1771) and Jonathan Edwards (1703–58). Both of these theologians embrace the basic tenets of the pactum salutis but each goes off script and departs from earlier trends in their own unique ways. Gill conflates the pactum salutis and covenant of grace, critiques the tradition for excluding the Holy Spirit in the pactum, and makes justification an immanent rather than transient act of the trinity. Edwards maintains a fairly typical doctrine of the pactum salutis, but in contrast to Gill, argues that justification is not complete until a person’s faith produces good works. Gill and Edwards, then, represent two opposite extremes, the former moving justification into eternity and the latter pushing its completion forward into the future. This chapter therefore surveys Gill’s and Edwards’s explanations of the pactum and related issues as well as delves into motivating factors, which account for the unique nature of their formulations. Despite their adherence to many key tenets of traditional Reformed doctrine, this traditional theology was deemed insufficient in a new philosophical world. Certain Enlightenment assumptions caused theologians such as Gill and Edwards to alter common Reformed doctrines. While the pactum remained largely the same in both theologians, they

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significantly changed the manner of its execution in time. In this vein Gill and Edwards represent a piece of what some have called the “deconfessionalization and the denominational disintegration” of the eighteenth century.1

4.2

John Gill

To contemporary Reformed theologians, it may seem counter-intuitive to examine the views of an eighteenth-century Particular Baptist theologian. But two reasons commend exploration of Gill’s thought. First, the pactum was professed both personally and confessionally among Particular Baptists, though some such as Benjamin Keach (1640–1704) criticized the doctrine.2 John Bunyan (1628–88), famous for his theological allegory Pilgrim’s Progress, was also a proponent of a version of the pactum. In his exposition of the new covenant, for example, Bunyan explains that this covenant was not made with many but with Christ (Gal. 3:16). Psalm 89:3 also speaks of this covenant, “I have made a covenant with my chosen: I have sworn unto David my servant.” According to Bunyan, the name David “in this place signifieth Christ.” God the Father and Christ the Son made this “covenant or bargain” (Prov. 8:22–31; Isa. 9:6; Zech. 13:7; Phil. 2:6; Heb. 1; Rev. 1:11–17; 22:13, 17).3 God the Father and Christ the Son mutually bound themselves together in a covenant made with an oath, which established the Son as the surety of this covenant.4 Particular Baptist theologians eventually codified this doctrine in the Second London Confession (1689), which states: “This Covenant [the covenant of grace] is revealed in the Gospel; first of all to Adam in the promise of Salvation by the Seed of the Woman, and afterwards by farther steps, until the full discovery thereof was compleated in the New Testament; and is founded in that Eternal Covenant transaction, that was between the Father and the Son, about the Redemption of the Elect” (VII.iii).5

1 Richard A. Muller, “Philip Doddridge and the Formulation of Calvinistic Theology in an Era of Rationalism and Deconfessionalization,” in Religion, Politics and Dissent, 1660–1832: Essays in Honour of James E. Bradley, ed. Robert D. Cornwall / William Gibson (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2010), 65–84. 2 Benjamin Keach, The Everlasting Covenant, A Sweet Cordial for a Drooping Soul: Or, The Excellent Nature of the Covenant of Grace Opened (London: 1693), 18. 3 John Bunyan, The Doctrine of the Law and Grace Unfolded; or, A Discourse Touching the Law and Grace, in The Works of John Bunyan, vol. 1, ed. George Offor (Glasgow: Blackie and Son, 1860), 522–23. 4 Bunyan, Law and Grace Unfolded, 525. 5 A Confession of Faith, Put forth by the Elders and Brethren Of many Congregations of Christians, (Baptized upon Profession of their Faith) in London and the Country. With an Appendix concerning Baptism (London: John Harris, 1688).

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Second, a quick perusal of Gill’s Body of Divinity reveals how thoroughly entrenched he was in the theology of Reformation and post-Reformation orthodoxy.6 This fact has led some historians to conclude that Gill is an intellectual and spiritual descendant of the Reformed tradition, his disagreements over infant baptism notwithstanding.7 In his treatment of the “the eternal union of the elect,” or what is in effect his version of the pactum, Gill references the works of William Ames (1576–1633), William Twisse (1578–1646), Johannes Maccovius (1588–1644), Thomas Goodwin (1600–80), Herman Witsius (1636– 1708), Johannes Hoornbeck (1617–66), Francis Turretin (1623–87), John Owen (1616–83), Ludovicus de Dieu (1590–1642), Johannes Heidegger (1633–98), and Johannes Cocceius (1603–69). His references to other Reformed luminaries extend beyond this list of stellar names in the rest of his Body of Divinity, which demonstrates both his intimate familiarity with Reformed orthodoxy and agreement with it.8 These two factors (advocacy of the doctrine among Particular Baptists and his intimate knowledge and agreement with Reformed theology), then, make Gill an excellent test case to explore the reception of the pactum in an eighteenth-century theologian. There are three specific areas that merit investigation in connection with his understanding of the pactum: Gill’s construction of the doctrine, the role of the Holy Spirit, and his doctrine of justification.

4.2.1 Structure of the covenant In contrast to earlier models that distinguished between the pactum salutis (between the Father and the Son) and the covenant of grace (between God and elect but fallen sinners), Gill combines these two covenants.9 Typically theologians thought the pactum salutis was made in eternity and the covenant of grace began in redemptive history. In Gill’s view, there was simply one covenant of grace, which had eternal and temporal poles to it. Gill acknowledges that theologians promoted two distinct covenants, but in his opinion this was “very wrongly said.” Gill writes: “There is but one covenant of grace, and not two, in 6 John Gill, A Complete Body of Doctrinal and Practical Divinity: or A System of Evangelical Truths (1809; Paris, AR: The Baptist Standard Bearer, Inc., 2007). 7 Richard A. Muller, “John Gill and the Reformed Tradition: A Study in the Reception of Protestant Orthodoxy in the Eighteenth Century,” in The Life and Thought of John Gill (1697– 1771): A Tercentennial Appreciation, ed. Michael A. G. Haykin (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 51. 8 Muller, “Gill and the Reformed Tradition,” 53–54. 9 Cf. Jonathan Anthony White, “A Theological and Historical Examination of John Gill’s Soteriology in Relation to Eighteenth-Century Hyper-Calvinism,” (Ph.D. Diss., The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, 2010), 81–84.

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which the Head and Members, the Redeemer and the persons to be redeemed, Christ and the elect, are concerned; in which he is the Head and Representative of them, acts for them, and on their behalf.” Important to recognize is that Gill does not eliminate covenantal activity between the Father and the Son but rather rejects the distinction “between a covenant of redemption in eternity, and a covenant of grace in time.”10 In fact, Gill cites most of the texts commonly associated with the pactum in support of his argument, Genesis 1:26, Zechariah 6:13, Ephesians 1:17, Psalms 89:19–20, 40:7–8, Luke 22:29, Hebrews 9:17, and others.11 Gill’s structure represents a common pattern in eighteenth and nineteenthcentury iterations of the pactum, which appear in the expositions of John Brown of Haddington (1722–87), Thomas Boston (1676–1732), and A. A. Hodge (1823– 86). Brown, for example, offers four reasons as to why the one covenant of grace should not be “splitted into two”: (1) the Scriptures only mention two covenants, works and grace; (2) the Scriptures employ the term “blood of the covenant,” not the blood of the “covenants”; (3) if theologians separate God’s transaction with the Son from the covenant of grace, there is nothing left for the elect but merely a “bundle of precious promises;” and (4) there is no reason to assert two separate covenants when there are only two Adams, hence two covenants.12 Boston makes a simpler argument and maintains that the two covenants should not be distinct and cites the Westminster Larger Catechism in support: “The covenant of grace was made with Christ as the second Adam, and in him with all the elect as his seed” (q. 31).13 In his own explanation of the doctrine, A. A. Hodge offers a brief taxonomy of the three different views on this subject “held by Calvinists”: (1) the covenant of grace made exclusively with sinners where Christ stands outside of the covenant as mediator; (2) the twofold pactum salutis and covenant of grace; and (3) the two Adams model where God makes the covenants of works and grace with the respective federal heads, one in eternity and the other in time.14 Hodge then defends the third view as his own, which also appears to be the view of Gill, Boston, and Brown.15 In his description of these views Hodge notes: “These differences do not in the least involve the truth of any doctrine taught in the Scriptures, but concern only the form in which that truth may be more or less 10 Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.vii (p. 217). 11 Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.vi–vii (pp. 211–17). 12 John Brown of Haddington, A Compendious View of Natural and Revealed Religion in Seven Books (rep.; Grand Rapids: Reformation Heritage Books, 2002), III.ii (pp. 242–43). 13 Thomas Boston, Body of Divinity, in The Complete Works of the Late Rev. Thomas Boston, vol. 1 (1853; Stoke-on-Trent: Tentmaker Publications, 2002), 333. 14 A. A. Hodge, Outlines of Theology (1860; Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1991), 369–70. 15 Hodge, Outlines of Theology, 369–74.

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clearly presented.”16 In other words, Reformed theologians may disagree over the precise structure of the elements of the pactum but nevertheless view one another as orthodox.

4.2.2 The role of the Holy Spirit A second area of divergence in Gill’s modified doctrine of the pactum involves the role of the Holy Spirit. In contrast to some versions of the doctrine that made the Father and Son the sole contracting parties of the pactum, Gill argues that the contracting parties are all three members of the trinity.17 Among the texts Gill cites, he draws particular attention to Genesis 1:26, “And God said, Let us make man in our image,” which according to Gill, “was said, not to angels, but to the other two divine Persons, the Son and Spirit … as spoken in eternity, in council between the divine Persons.”18 Within the intra-trinitarian council the trinity decreed to elect certain individuals to salvation, which led to the covenant as the means to redeem them.19 This ultimately brings Gill to his summary definition of the eternal covenant of grace: “The affair debated and consulted between the three divine persons, was the peace and reconciliation of God’s elect by Christ, and the way and manner of doing it; and therefore, as before observed, this transaction may, with great propriety, be called, the council of peace; and which issued in a covenant of peace.”20 Gill, then, keenly preserves the trinitarian character of this eternal covenant, and as such, he has a chapter devoted to the work of the Spirit. In common with previous Reformed theologians, Gill first sets forth the respective work and roles of the Father and the Son, as he notes that though all three members of the trinity are parties to the covenant, there should be special emphasis on the interaction between them.21 His exposition of the roles, conditions, stipulations, and promises between the Father and Son resemble other explanations.22 But along the way he notes that theologians traditionally make the Father and Son the sole contracting parties of the pactum salutis, which is not entirely accurate. As discussed, theologians such as Patrick Gillespie (1617–75) and Owen argued the trinitarian consilium Dei produced the pactum and some actually made the Spirit 16 17 18 19 20 21 22

Hodge, Outlines of Theology, 369. Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.vi (p. 209). Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.vi (p. 211). Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.vi (pp. 213–14). Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.vi (p. 214). Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.vii (p. 214). Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.vii–xiii (pp. 214–44).

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a party to it, such as James Durham (1622–58).23 Nevertheless, Gill opines: “I see not why the holy Spirit should be excluded, since he is certainly promised in it both to Head and members.”24 On this matter, Gill begins the chapter on the Spirit’s role in the eternal covenant by observing that the Holy Spirit “was not a mere bystander, spectator, and witness of this solemn transaction, compact, and agreement, between the Father and the Son, but was a party concerned in it.”25 Under two headings Gill explains the role of the Spirit in the covenant. First, the Spirit gave his assent and approval to every article of the covenant.26 To support this contention Gill appeals to a number of texts, which heretofore, have not been cited in earlier discussions of the pactum salutis. For example, Gill appeals to 2 Samuel 22:5, “Although my house be not so with God; yet he hath made with me an everlasting covenant, ordered in all things, and sure: for this is all my salvation” (emphasis). Gill reasons that if God has provided for “all of his salvation” in his covenant, and sanctification is part of this redemption, then the Spirit must be included (cf. 2 Thess. 2:13; 1 Pet. 1:2). In explanations of the pactum theologians maintain that the Father sent the Son, but Gill also includes the Spirit in the sending based upon Isaiah 48:16, “From the time that it was, there am I: and now the Lord God, and his Spirit, hath sent me.” Even though the Son is the mediator, he performs his work as the anointed, the christos, which means that he receives the Spirit to carry out his labor. The Spirit was the agent of Christ’s conception (Matt. 1:18, 20) and equipped him throughout his earthly ministry, which culminated in his crucifixion, where Christ “through the eternal Spirit offered himself without blemish to God” (Heb. 9:14; 1 Pet. 1:11). The Spirit also demonstrated his approbation and the acceptability of Christ’s sufferings by “closing part of the scheme of salvation” in his resurrection (Rom. 1:4). But Gill notes that the Spirit was not only involved in redemption accomplished but also in its application. According to Ephesians 1:13, the third person of the trinity is the “Spirit of promise” and he applies every promise of this covenant to the elect (Gal. 3:14). The elect are justified “in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God” (1 Cor. 6:11) and similarly 23 Patrick Gillespie, Ark of the Covenant Opened: Or, a Treatise of the Covenant of Redemption Between God and Christ, as the Foundation of the Covenant of Grace. The Second Part (London: Thomas Parkhurst, 1677), 32–33; John Owen, Exercitation XXVIII: Federal Transactions Between the Father and the Son,” in Works of John Owen, vol. 19, ed. W. H. Goold (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1862), 77; idem, “Exercitation XXVII: The Original Priesthood of Christ in the Counsel of God,” in The Works of John Owen, vol. 19, ed. W. H. Goold (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1862), 58; James Durham, Christ Crucified: or, The Marrow of the Gospel, Evidently holden forth in LXXII Sermons, on the whole 53 Chapter of Isaiah (Edinburgh: Andrew Anderson, 1683), serm. XXIII (pp. 156–59). 24 Gill, Compete Body of Divinity, II.vii (p. 217). 25 Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.xiv (p. 244). 26 Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.xiv (p. 244).

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the apostle Paul calls him the “Spirit of adoption” (2 Cor. 6:18; Gal. 4:6; Rom. 8:15–16).27 Under the second heading, Gill argues that as a party of the covenant the Spirit agreed to perform many things, and nothing proves this fact more than his performance of them. Gill largely rehearses some of the same points he made under the first heading, with some slight variations. He again notes the Spirit’s participation in the creation of Christ’s human nature ( Job 33:4; Psa. 139:14; Luke 1:35). The Spirit also participated in Christ’s earthly ministry when Jesus cast out demons “by the Spirit of God” (Matt. 12:28). The Spirit inspired the OT prophets, who testified primarily of Christ, and assists ministers when they preach about him (2 Pet. 1:21; Acts 1:4–5; 2:4; Heb. 2:3–4; Acts 13:2; 16:6–7; 20:28). The Spirit then takes the preached word and applies it to the hearts of men (1 Thess. 1:5–6; 2 Cor. 3:6, 8; Gal. 3:2). And once again, Gill draws attention to the Spirit’s work as the agent of sanctification.28 At this point, one might conclude that Gill’s treatment of the role of the Spirit represents a groundbreaking contribution to the doctrine of the pactum salutis. While Gill’s contribution is important, historians should be cautious in how they describe his treatment. From one vantage point, Gill’s work certainly represents a development and even refinement of the doctrine because of his emphasis upon the Spirit’s work within the covenant. But refinement and development should be expected with the passage of time. Formal versions of the doctrine did not arise until the mid-seventeenth century, which means that one should expect lacunae in initial formulations. Gill had the benefit of standing upon the work of the previous generations upon which he could build his own version. But even then, historians should not bypass the earlier trinitarian constructions of Owen, Gillespie, or especially James Durham. Historical theologians should also note that no single proponent of the pactum salutis believed he was diminishing or undercutting the doctrine of the trinity or the role of the Spirit in redemption. Rather, advocates of the two-party pactum (i. e., Father and Son), such as Samuel Rutherford (1600–61), made the case that the Father and Son were the exclusive parties of the covenant because of the numerous dialogues they found in Scripture.29 In these texts the Father sends the Son or the Son acknowledges his submission to the Father. In other words, two-party advocates saw the pactum as part of christology rather than as part of the doctrine of trinity. No one would accuse a theologian of being a tri-theist because he said that only the Son suffered and died on the cross; such a statement 27 Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.xiv (pp. 244–45). 28 Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.xiv (pp. 245–46). 29 Samuel Rutherford, The Covenant of Life Opened: Or, a Treatise of the Covenant of Grace (Edinburgh: Robert Brown, 1654), II.vi (pp. 302–05).

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merely reflects Christ’s specific role and office and does not constitute a denial of the doctrine of the trinity. Such is the case with those who argue that the two parties of the pactum are the Father and Son. Along these lines, Gill does not produce a single text that attributes specific dialogue from the Spirit to the Father or Son in the same way that such interchanges appear between Father and Son. Gill, unlike others, relies more heavily upon inference than upon the express statements of Scripture, which is a valid interpretive principle in Reformed hermeneutics (cf. WCF I.vi). Good and necessary consequences are valid and doctrinally binding scriptural inferences. One last noteworthy observation that provides at least one reason for Gill’s emphasis upon the work of the Spirit is the structure of his doctrine. Unlike advocates of the unmodified pactum salutis, Gill combines the pactum with the covenant of grace. Any advocate of the pactum would undoubtedly agree with everything that Gill states about the work of the Spirit given that he too affirms the covenant of grace and the Spirit’s role therein. If Gill, however, moves the covenant of grace and all that it entails into eternity, then logically the Spirit’s work in time moves into eternity. In other words, a temporal trinitarian covenant of grace must have a trinitarian eternal source. Along these lines, it should be no surprise that Brown affirms the following: “As this covenant took its rise from the infinite, the equal of all the three divine persons, they were equally employed in the making of it, and took their respective shares in the work of it.”30 Boston makes similar moves, though he oscillates back and forth as to who, precisely, is involved in the various aspects of the eternal covenant of grace. He notes, for example: “A covenant of grace is made betwixt the Father and his own Son as party-contractor on man’s side.”31 But he later specifies, “I think that God essentially considered was the party contractor in the person of the Father, Tit. 1:2 Eph. 1:3. Hereby the Son and the Holy Ghost have their part in the covenant on heaven’s side, as the party offended.”32 Boston also takes a text commonly associated with the application of redemption, “the last Adam was made a quickening spirit” (1 Cor. 15:45), and connects it to the eternal pole of the covenant of grace. Not only does Christ receive the Spirit in full measure but, based upon this text, Boston claims that Jesus is the “life-giving head” of the elect.33 Now, just because advocates of the eternal covenant of grace tend to incorporate the work of the Spirit does not automatically mean that this formulation is inherently superior because it is more conducive to a trinitarian 30 31 32 33

Brown, Natural and Revealed Religion, 228. Boston, Body of Divinity, 319. Boston, Body of Divinity, 322. Boston, Body of Divinity, 321.

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construction. Again, recall the earlier trinitarian pactum formulations of Gillespie, Owen, and Durham—earlier views were not devoid of the person and work of the Spirit. Also noteworthy is the formula of A. A. Hodge, who argues for the eternal covenant of grace, or “two Adam,” model but nevertheless states: “The contracting parties were the Father representing the entire Godhead in its indivisible sovereignty; and, on the other hand, God the Son, as Mediator, representing all his elect people, and as administrator of the Covenant, standing there as surety for their performance of all those duties which were involved on their part.”34 Hodge has a two-party structure in contrast to Gill’s three-party view. But Hodge is not less trinitarian than Gill but rather merely reflects the definition found in Westminster Larger Catechism q. 31: “The covenant of grace was made with Christ as the second Adam, and in him with all the elect as his seed.” Hodge and the Catechism do not include the Spirit as a party of the covenant because the Spirit is not the federal representative of the elect.35

4.2.3 The doctrine of justification Where Gill offers a very different twist to the pactum (or its modified form) is in relation to the doctrine of justification. Three characteristics make Gill’s doctrine of justification unique: (1) its placement in his system of thought; (2) its relationship to the doctrine of God; and (3) its relationship to the eternal covenant of grace. First, unlike most Reformed theologians, Gill follows his doctrine of election with the subject of the “eternal union of the elect of God” where he treats the doctrines of justification and adoption before he explains the eternal covenant.36 In Gill’s mind, since the elect are in union with Christ in eternity, the elect are therefore justified and adopted in eternity, which makes these two benefits of redemption immanent acts of God.37 Historically, theologians distinguished between immanent and transient acts of God. The immanent acts of God pertain exclusively to the godhead whereas transient acts terminate upon the creation. When considered as an immanent act of God, the decree, is identical with the divine essence, though God’s essence and will should be distinguished.38 Francis Turretin offers a threefold division of the acts of God: (1) those actions 34 35 36 37 38

Hodge, Outlines of Theology, 372. Hodge, Outlines of Theology, 370–71. Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.iv–v (pp. 198–209). Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.iv (p. 198). Richard A. Muller, “God as Absolute and Relative, Necessary, Free, and Contingent: The Ad Intra-Ad Extra Movement of Seventeenth-Century Reformed Language about God,” in Always Reformed: Essays in Honor of W. Robert Godfrey, ed. R. Scott Clark / Joel E. Kim (Escondido: Westminster Seminary California, 2010), 62–63.

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that have no connection to anything outside of God, such as the divine processions; (2) extrinsic and transient acts that are not in God but originate from him and terminate upon the creature; and (3) some immanent acts that originate in God, such as the decree, but terminate upon the creature.39 Gill embraces these distinctions but locates justification and adoption, which would typically be transient acts of God (opera ad extra) since they terminate upon the creature, in the opera ad intra, or the internal work of the godhead. Like other earlier Reformed theologians, Gill posits a fourfold union between Christ and the elect: a union in the decree, a conjugal union where Christ was betrothed to the elect in a secret act in eternity, a federal union whereby the elect posses a covenantal existence connected to their federal head, and a legal union where Christ acts as surety for them.40 Citing Thomas Goodwin, Gill argues that justification and adoption are immanent acts of God because union with Christ is fundamental to these redemptive benefits, and since the elect share in a decretal union with Christ, justification and adoption must be immanent acts.41 To make his case, Gill first explains that he does not treat these doctrines in toto in his discussion of the decree. He leaves the fuller discussion for his treatment of applied soteriology, or justification and adoption as transient acts as they terminate upon the elect but fallen sinner. But he does treat them as immanent acts of God because these benefits did not begin in time but “commenced from eternity” as an act of God’s will, and as such, has its complete essence as an immanent act.42 To clarify his meaning, he argues that adoption, for example, does not follow regeneration. Rather, adoption is the foundation of regeneration. A person is not regenerated in order to be adopted but is regenerated because he is already adopted. Hence, “Adoption is a sentence of grace conceived in the divine mind, and settled by the divine will, and pronounced in divine predestination, which is an eternal act of God.” Gill claims William Ames in support of his definition.43 Along identical lines, justification is “antecedent to any act of faith.” Faith is not the cause but the effect of justification. Gill cites an unlikely ally, one who would have rejected Gill’s view as inherently antinomian, Richard Baxter (1615–91). Baxter writes: “If faith is the instrument of our justification, it is the instrument either of God or man; not of man, for justification is God’s act; he is the sole justifier, Rom. 3:26. Man doth not justify himself: nor of God, for it is not God that believes.”44 Gill cites Baxter to buttress 39 Francis Turretin, Institutes of Elenctic Theology, 3 vols., ed. James T. Dennison, Jr., trans. George Musgrave Giger (Phillipsburg: P & R, 1992–97), IV.i.4. 40 Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.iv (pp. 199–200). 41 Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.iv (p. 201). 42 Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.v (p. 201). 43 Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.v (p. 203). 44 Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.v (p. 204).

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the claim that faith is in no way a cause of justification, neither a moving, efficient, meritorious, or instrumental cause. Again, faith is an effect of justification, and “is the evidence and manifestation of justification and therefore justification must be before it.”45 Gill treats justification as a branch of election.46 Gill considers justification as an immanent act not only because of the sinner’s union with Christ in the decree but also because of Christ’s role as covenant surety in the eternal covenant of grace.47 Gill believed he was standing in a long and distinguished line of proponents of this view. He cites Twisse, Maccovius, Goodwin, Ames, Hoornbeck, Witsius, and Owen as advocates of his view.48 But Gill was well aware of the criticisms of others, such as Turretin.49 Gill’s citations in favor of his view require brief engagement to explore two things: (1) the accuracy of his claims concerning the precedence of his view; and (2) his response and lengths to which he was willing to go to defend his position. Gill’s efforts to support his own view by appealing to other esteemed Reformed theologians holds some truth, though he ignores some key qualifications. William Twisse, for example, did teach justification from eternity. Justification was God’s eternal will not to punish elect but fallen sinners, and when a person came to faith, he merely became cognizant of his already justified status. The elect sinner had already been cleared in the court of God (in foro Dei) long before his profession of faith and vindication before the court of conscience (in foro conscientiae).50 Gill embraces this court of God-conscience distinction as he delineates between justification in foro Dei in eternity, of Christ at his resurrection, in foro conscientiae, and at the final judgment. All of these different iterations are “so many repetitions, or renewed declarations, of that grand original sentence of it, conceived in the mind of God from all eternity.”51 For all intents and purposes, God justifies the elect sinner in eternity, and all other subsequent justifications are merely discoveries of the initial eternal verdict. Other authorities that Gill cites do not parse justification precisely in this manner. Ames, for example, does affirm that justification existed in the divine decree, then in Christ, and ultimately in the believer.52 But Ames locates a per-

45 46 47 48 49 50

Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.v (p. 204). Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.v (p. 205). Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.v (p. 204). Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.v (pp. 204–06). Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.v (pp. 206–08). William Twisse, Vindicia Gratiae Potestatis ac Providentiae Dei (Amsterdam: John Jansonius, 1632), I.ii.25 (p. 197). 51 Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.vi (p. 209). 52 William Ames, The Marrow of Theology, trans. John Dykstra Eusden (1968; Grand Rapids: Baker, 1997), I.xxviii.3.

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son’s actual justification at the moment of faith, not before.53 The same pattern holds true for Maccovius, Goodwin, Owen, and Witsius. It is one thing to decree the justification of the elect and another to justify them in time.54 With Hoornbeck, the timing of justification is less clear, though he describes justification from eternity as destinata (“designed”), which he distinguishes from the justification facta (“made”) by Christ in his work and applicatur (“applied”) to the soul.55 In other words, Hoornbeck seems to follow the decree-execution pattern common in seventeenth-century Reformed theology. True, some of these theologians, such as Witsius and Hoornbeck, employ the distinction between active and passive justification, and for this reason Gill also does the same.56 He even employs Witsius’s categories of general and particular justification.57 But unlike Gill, Witsius clearly states the necessity and instrumentality of faith for justification: “The genuine opinion of the reformed is this: that faith justifies, as it is the bond of our strictest union with Christ, by which all things that are Christ’s become also ours.”58 For Witsius, a person is not justified apart from faith, whereas for Gill, a person is already justified apart from faith: “Faith is the evidence and manifestation of justification and therefore justification must be before it.”59 Stated simply, for the Reformed faith is the instrument of justification whereas for Gill it is the evidence of justification. Gill was willing to go quite far to preserve justification as an immanent act of the trinity. In his rebuttal of Turretin’s objections he argues that non-entities can indeed be justified.60 That is, elect sinners have no real existence in God’s decree because they have not yet been created. But Gill insists that even as non-entities, the elect nevertheless have a representative existence (esse representativum) in 53 Ames, Marrow of Theology, I.xxvii.16–17. 54 Johannes Maccovius, Loci Communes (Franequerae: Joannis Argerii, 1650), 676; Thomas Goodwin, Justifying Faith, in The Works of Thomas Goodwin, vol. 8 (1863; Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1985), 134–39; John Owen; Herman Witsius, Economy of the Covenants Between God and Man: Comprehending a Complete Body of Divinity (1822; Escondido: Den Dulk Foundation, 1990), III.viii.58–61; John Owen, The Doctrine of Justification, in The Works of John Owen, ed. William Goold, vol. 5 (Edinburgh and London: Johnstone and Hunter, 1850–53), 133. Cf. Carl R. Trueman, John Owen: Reformed Catholic, Renaissance Man (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007), 113–118 cf. idem, The Claims of Truth: John Owen’s Trinitarian Theology (Carlisle: Paternoster, 1998), 207–09; Mark Jones, Why Heaven Kissed Earth: The Christology of the Puritan Reformed Orthodox theologian, Thomas Goodwin (1600–80) (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2010), 232–38. 55 Johannes Hoornbeck, Summa Controversiarum Religionis (Utrecht: ex Officina Johannis à Waesberge, 1653), X (pp. 705–06). 56 Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.v (p. 203); Hoornbeck, Summa Controversiarum, X (p. 707); Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, III.vii.61. 57 Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.v (p. 204); Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, III.viii.59. 58 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, III.viii.56. 59 Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.v (p. 204). 60 Cf. Turretin, Institutes of Elenctic Theology, XVI.ix.3.

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Christ, which renders them capable of being chosen in Christ and thus justified in him from eternity.61 Gill’s dissent from the majority view appears in his response to Turretin’s distinction between the decree and its execution: “His decree, or will to justify them, is the justification of them, as that is an immanent act in God; which has its complete essence in his will, as election has; is entirely within himself, and not transient on an external subject, producing any real, physical, inherent change in it, as sanctification is and does.”62 In other words, because the verdict makes no change in a person, it must be an immanent act. If justification required the infusion of inherent righteousness, as with Roman Catholic views, then the objection might have greater weight. At this point Gill stands outside of the tradition, as numerous theologians distinguished between the decree and its execution, a principle preserved in the Westminster Confession (XI.iv) and Savoy Declaration (XI.iv).63 Gill presses his argument against another objection that arises from the traditional interpretation of Romans 8:30 and the chain of salvation, or the ordo salutis. According to the interpretation of this text, vocation (or effectual calling) precedes justification, hence it chronologically precedes justification. Gill responds: “The order of things in scripture is frequently inverted.” Citing a maxim from the Babylonian Talmud (ca. 200 bc), “There is nothing prior and posterior in the law,” Gill contends that the “order of things is not strictly observed.” In other words, Paul did not intend a strict order in Romans 8:30. Hence, according to Gill: “Justification, as a transient act, and declarative, follows vocation; but as an immanent act in God, it goes before it.”64 Gill lays one last noteworthy argument upon the table by drawing a parallel between Adam and Christ. If God counts people as guilty of Adam’s sin before they exist, then should it not follow that the elect in Christ are righteous before they exist? “As considered in Christ,” writes Gill, “they are loved with an everlasting love, chosen in him before the world was, and always viewed and accounted righteous in him, and so secured from everlasting wrath and damnation.”65

61 Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.v (p. 207). 62 Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.v (p. 207). 63 See, e. g., Turretin, Institutes, XVI.ix.3; Johannes Heidegger, Corpus Theologiae Christianae, 2 vols. (Zurich: J. H. Bodmer, 1732), XXII.lxxix (2.303); Petrus van Mastricht, Theoreticopractica theologia (Utrecht and Amsterdam, 1715), VI.vi.18 (p. 807); Samuel Maresius, Collegium Theologicum sive Systema Breve Universae Theologiae, 6th ed. (Geneva: 1662), XI.lviii (pp. 255–56); Leonard Rijssen, Summa Theologiae Didactico-Elencticae (Berne: 1703), XIV.ix (p. 474); Peter Bulkeley, The Gospel Covenant or The Covenant of Grace Opened (London: Matthew Simmons, 1651), IV.vi (pp. 358–59); Herman Witsius, Conciliatory or Irenical Animadversions, trans. Thomas Bell (Glasgow: W. Lang, 1807), V.iv–v (pp. 62–63). 64 Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.v (p. 208). 65 Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.v (p. 209).

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Jonathan Edwards

In the big picture, though Edwards affirms the pactum salutis, his own understanding of the doctrine produces different results in comparison to Gill’s formulation, especially as it concerns the doctrine of justification. This section therefore first surveys Edwards’s understanding of the pactum, takes note of some of its unique elements, and then examines his doctrine of justification.

4.3.1 Pactum salutis Edwards’s lengthiest treatment of the pactum appears in one of his Miscellanies, which were a series of occasional doctrinal observations that he wrote throughout his life. Miscellany 1062, “Economy of the Trinity and Covenant of Redemption,” treats the subject in fifteen paragraphs, though he does address the topic in other miscellanies.66 Edwards begins his miscellany by discussing the economic subordination of the persons of the godhead, which he distinguishes from their ontological equality.67 Edwards admits that there is “a kind of dependence of the Son, in his subsistence, on the Father—because with respect to his subsistence he is wholly from the Father and begotten by him—yet this is more properly called priority than superiority.”68 He carefully explains, however, that the Son’s begotten status, or his procession from the Father is not voluntary but necessary.69 In other words, the Son’s existence is an ontological necessity; he is not merely a product of the Father’s will.70 66 Misc. 617, 825, 919, 1091 (WJE 18:148–51; 536–38; 20:167, 475–79); Robert W. Caldwell, Communion in the Spirit: The Holy Spirit as the Bond of Union in the Theology of Jonathan Edwards (Milton Keynes: Paternoster, 2006), 65 n. 16. For a broad overview of the pactum salutis in Edwards’s theology, especially as it relates to the covenants of works and grace, see Carl W. Bogue, Jonathan Edwards and the Covenant of Grace (1975; Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2008), 95–124. 67 Cf. Jonathan Edwards, “On the Equality of the Persons of the Trinity,” in The Works of Jonathan Edwards, vol. 21, ed. Sang Hyun Lee (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2003), 145– 48. 68 Jonathan Edwards, Misc. 1062, “Economy of the Trinity and Covenant of Redemption,” in The Works of Jonathan Edwards: The “Miscellanies” (Entry Nos. 833–1152), vol. 20, ed. Amy Plantinga Pauw (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2002), 430. 69 Edwards, “Covenant of Redemption,” 431. 70 Matters that lie beyond the scope of this section revolve around questions about problematic elements within Edwards’s doctrine of the trinity, particularly regarding the intra-trinitarian opera ad intra. This is an issue that older commentators, such as B. B. Warfield, noted and contemporary Edwards scholars have engaged (cf. B. B. Warfield, “The Biblical Doctrine of the Trinity,” in The Works of Benjamin B. Warfield, vol. 2, ed. E. D. Warfield / et al. [1929; Grand Rapids: Baker, 1981], 137–39; Oliver Crisp, Jonathan Edwards on God and Creation [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012], 117–37; Jonathan Edwards, “Discourse on the Tri-

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Edwards’s formula stands in contrast to Thomas Ridgley (1667–1734), who denied the doctrine of the eternal generation of the Son. Ridgley believed that commonly gathered texts in support of the Son’s eternal generation did not speak of the ontological but the economic trinity, or Christ’s role as the God-man, not immanent processions (e. g., Psa. 2:7; Prov. 8:22–23, 25; Col. 1:5; John 1:14, 18).71 Another proponent of the pacutm salutis, Isaac Watts (1647–1748), was perplexed as to how to explain statements in Scripture that appeared to affirm the Son’s ontological inferiority to the Father. Watts believed that the Scriptures did not address the specific nature of the intra-trinitarian immanent relations, such as the eternal generation and spiration of the second and third persons.72 Watts did believe that Christians should affirm the doctrine of the trinity, which consisted of one God in three personal agents, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.73 To explain the statements of Christ’s apparent inferiority, Watts concluded that the Son’s human soul existed prior to his incarnation, and as such, all references to his supposed inferiority were to his eternal human soul, the pre-existent God-man: Now if we can give ourselves leave to suppose, that the human soul of our Lord Jesus Christ had a being, and was personally united to the divine nature, long before his body was born of the virgin, even from the very foundation of the world, and that this was the angel who conversed with Abraham, Moses, Joshua, etc. then we may most easily account for these expressions in Scripture, which signify something inferior in the godhead before his incarnation.74

On the one side, Ridgley denied the eternal generation of the Son and argued that only the incarnate Christ was in any sense subordinate to the Father, and on the other Watts argued for the pre-existence of Christ’s soul in order to explain his subordination to the Father.75 Ridgley opted for learned ignorance concerning the immanent trinity and Watts chose doctrinal novelty. Edwards cut a middle-path between the extremes of Ridgley and Watts and affirms the ontological equality of all three persons of the godhead but at the same time explains in what way the Son is economically subordinate to the

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nity,” in The Works of Jonathan Edwards, vol. 21, ed. Sang Hyun Lee [New Haven: Yale University Press, 2003], 109–44). Thomas Ridgley, Body of Divinity: Wherein the Doctrines of the Christian Religion Are Explained and Defended, 4 vols. (Philadelphia: William Woodward, 1814), I:258–60. I was unable to obtain a copy of Ridgley’s 1731 original work. Cf. Amy Plantinga Pauw, The Supreme Harmony of All: The Trinitarian Theology of Jonathan Edwards (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), 100. Isaac Watts, “The Christian Doctrine of the Trinity” in Works: Discourses, Essays, and Tracts on Various Subjects, vol. 6 (London: T. and T. Longman, 1753), Prop. XV (p. 462). Watts, “Doctrine of the Trinity,” Prop. XVI (pp. 464–66). Watts, “Doctrine of the Trinity,” Prop. XVIII (p. 468). Pauw, Supreme Harmony, 100.

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Father.76 Edwards begins with the intra-trinitarian processions, i. e., the Father’s eternal begetting of the Son and the Father’s and Son’s eternal generation of the Spirit, because in his mind, the eternal processions of the triune God lead to their missions in the economy of redemption: “This order [or] economy of persons of the Trinity with respect to their actions ad extra is to be conceived of as prior to the covenant of redemption, as we must conceive of God’s determination to glorify and communication himself as prior to the method that his wisdom pitches upon as tending best to effect this.”77 This means that the processions produce the missions, and hence the covenant of redemption is part and parcel of the missions of the triune God. The processions are fundamental to the pactum salutis, which Edwards defines as “an eternal covenant between some of the persons of the Trinity about that particular affair of man’s redemption.”78 Edwards explains that the processions of the trinity establish the missions, but that the ontological trinity is entirely different from the covenant of redemption. He bases this idea on five different observations. First, the trinity determines to redeem fallen humanity, though in this decision the Father acts as the “head of the society of the Trinity.” Second, Scripture clearly teaches that the Father chooses the Son as redeemer. Hence the Father appoints the Son as mediator outside and prior to the pactum. Third, the trinitarian economy of redemption is prior to and distinct from the pactum because this economy remains after the work of redemption is completed. Once Christ accomplishes his work (e. g., 1 Cor. 15:24–28) and hands the kingdom over to his Father, he will continue to act as head and supreme Lord of the society of the trinity with the Son and Spirit subject to him. Fourth, according to Edwards, the pactum salutis for a season establishes Christ as the Father’s vice regent, but this role will come to an end.79 Fifth, and last, the Scriptures present the promises and rewards of the pactum as exclusively between the Father and Son. Edwards contends that the Father could not make these promises to the Son were it not for the previously established and unique missions of the trinity. Apart from the unique missions, the whole triune God would equally and conjointly carry out the redemption of man.80 For example, Edwards illustrates his point in the following manner: “That the Father

76 Pauw, Supreme Harmony, 108; cf. Edwards, Misc. 1062, “Economy of the Trinity and Covenant of Redemption,” WJE 20:443; idem, Misc. 1174, “Reasons against Dr. Watts’ notion of the Pre-existence of Christ’s Human Soul,” in The Works of Jonathan Edwards, vol. 23, ed. Douglas A. Sweeney (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2004), 89–92. 77 Edwards, “Covenant of Redemption,” 431–32; cf. Robert W. Jenson, America’s Theologian: A Recommendation of Jonathan Edwards (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988), 92–97. 78 Edwards, “Covenant of Redemption,” 432. 79 Edwards, “Covenant of Redemption,” 434–35. 80 Edwards, “Covenant of Redemption,” 435.

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should be servant to the Son would be contrary to the economy and natural order of the persons of the Trinity.”81 Based upon his understanding of the economic intra-trinitarian relations, Edwards then builds his doctrine of the pactum upon this foundation. The Father initiates the great transaction of the eternal covenant of redemption: “He pitches upon a person for a Redeemer. He proposes the matter unto him, offers him authority for the office, proposes precisely what he should do as the terms of man’s redemption, and all the work that he should perform in this affair, and the reward that he should receive, and the success he should have.”82 The Son reciprocates in this covenantal agreement by agreeing to enter a new state of economic subjection to his Father, namely, the role of a servant born under the law.83 As a servant under the law, Christ voluntarily offers to obey his Father’s law, which is the requirement by which he merits redemption for the elect—this is the obedience that is eventually imputed to the elect.84 As the Father’s covenant servant, part of Christ’s reward entails a new dignity and station that did not belong to him according to his economic role within the trinity. Edwards has in view Christ’s role as vice regent, his redemptive-historical function as the second Adam in contrast to his ontological status as the eternal Son of God. But in addition to his role as vice regent, Edwards maintains that Christ receives both the dispensation and disposal of the Holy Spirit as one of the terms of the pactum: “For when God exalted Jesus Christ, God-man, and set him at his own right hand in heavenly places, and solemnly invested him with rule over the angels and over the whole universe, at the same time did he also give him the great and main thing that he purchased, even the Holy Spirit.”85 Part of Christ’s reward for his obedience and completed covenant labors is the ability to dispense the Holy Spirit to accomplish the grand design of redemption. Edwards, unlike other earlier Reformed theologians, offers great consideration for the place and role of the Holy Spirit in connection with the pactum with his unique contribution of the Spirit as Christ’s reward. Edwards explains the Spirit’s twofold subjection: the Father places the Spirit under the Son in the pactum as well as under the Son as the God-man in redemptive history.86 But he carefully notes the nature of the Spirit’s subjection. The Spirit is not a party of the covenant, but rather he is its reward by virtue of the Father’s donation as head of the society of the trinity. To support this claim Edwards points out that even though the Spirit willingly and voluntarily submits 81 82 83 84 85 86

Edwards, “Covenant of Edwards, “Covenant of Edwards, “Covenant of Edwards, “Covenant of Edwards, “Covenant of Edwards, “Covenant of

Redemption,” 437. Redemption,” 435–36. Redemption,” 436–37. Redemption,” 438. Redemption,” 439. Redemption,” 440.

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to the Father’s will in his subjection to the Son, the Spirit’s obedience has no reward like Christ’s reward. This leads Edwards to restate the fact that the covenant of redemption is exclusively between the Father and the Son.87 The pactum therefore is part of christology, not the doctrine of the trinity per se: He [the Spirit] is never represented as a party in this covenant, but the Father and the Son only. The covenant of redemption, which is the new covenant, the covenant with the second Adam, that which takes effect in the second place (though entered into first, in order of time), after the covenant with the first Adam was broken, was made only between God the Lawgiver and man’s surety and representative, as the first covenant, that was made with the first Adam, was.88

Although Edwards places the covenant in christology, he does not make the Spirit merely an object passed back and forth between the Father and Son. The Spirit is equally and infinitely concerned with redemption in the same manner as the Father and Son. The particular manner of the Spirit’s involvement in redemption, however, requires nuanced explanation. As with some Reformed theologians before him, such as Owen and Gillespie, Edwards maintains that the whole trinity is involved in the consilium Dei: “We may well suppose that the affair was as it were concerted among all the persons, and determined by the perfect consent of all, and that there was a consultation among the three persons about it, as much doubtless as about the creation of man.” Redemption, to Edwards’s mind, is far greater than creation, so if the divine persons consented with one another to create, then they assuredly did so in planning humanity’s redemption.89 He does not mention the text, but he likely alludes to Genesis 1:26, “Let us make man in our own image, after our likeness.” But as it pertains to the covenant of redemption, there are three ways in which the Holy Spirit is involved even though he is not a party to this agreement. First, echoing an idea that goes back to Augustine (354–430), Edwards maintains that the Spirit is the bond of love between the Father and Son, and is therefore “the bond of union between the two covenanting persons.”90 Second, if the Spirit is the infinite love of God both to himself and to his creatures, “so he is the internal spring of all that the other persons do in covenanting.” The Spirit is the “moving cause of the whole transaction, as it was a marvelous transaction of love, the greatest that ever was.” And third, since the Spirit is the infinite riches and fullness of God that is communicated in the work of redemption, he is therefore 87 88 89 90

Edwards, “Covenant of Redemption,” 441. Edwards, “Covenant of Redemption,” 442. Edwards, “Covenant of Redemption,” 442. Edwards, “Covenant of Redemption,” 443; Caldwell, Communion in the Spirit, 35–36, 66–67; Stephen R. Holmes, God of Grace & God of Glory: An Account of the Theology of Jonathan Edwards (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000), 68–69; cf. Augustine, On the Trinity, IX.i, in NPNF 3:125–26.

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the end and goal of the covenant. As we will see below, the Spirit is the means by which the triune God joins believers to Christ in holy union.91

4.3.2 Justification Edwards’s doctrine of justification has a taproot in the pactum salutis. In the midst of his 1738 treatise on justification, Edwards reaches back to the “transaction between the Father and Son,” which was prior to Christ’s incarnation. In this transaction Christ promised to be born under the law, to obey it, and to suffer its penalty. Even though Christ had not yet actually performed this work, “these things were already virtually done in the sight of God.” Evidence of the efficacy of Christ’s virtual work, though not actually performed, is that God justified and saved sinners prior to Christ’s incarnation and earthly ministry.92 For Edwards, sinners are therefore justified by faith alone and Christ’s imputed righteousness, his active and passive obedience, is the judicial ground of the sinner’s acceptability before the divine bar.93 Thus far Edwards sounds conventional in his explanation of the relationship between the pactum and justification. But the deeper one delves into his treatise, a dense cloud of ambiguity rolls over Edwards’s doctrine of justification. Evidence of the thick fog appears in the sharply divided secondary literature where one group claims Edwards transgressed the line of Reformed orthodoxy and the other that his doctrine rests safely behind it.94 One the one hand, it may surprise 91 Edwards, “Covenant of Redemption,” 443. 92 Jonathan Edwards, “Justification by Faith Alone,” in The Works of Jonathan Edwards: Sermons and Discourses 1734–38, vol. 19, ed. M. X. Lesser (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2001), 192. 93 Edwards, “Justification by Faith,” 185–86. 94 Those who argue for Edwards’s orthodoxy include: Michael McClendon, Jonathan Edwards and Justification by Faith (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2012); Josh Moody, Jonathan Edwards and Justification (Wheaton: Crossway, 2012); Jeffrey C. Waddington, “Jonathan Edwards’s ‘Ambiguous and Somewhat Precarious’ Doctrine of Justification?” WTJ 66 (2004): 357–72; Samuel T. Logan, Jr., “The Doctrine of Justification in the Theology of Jonathan Edwards,” WTJ 46 (1984): 26–52; Hyun-Jin Cho, Jonathan Edwards on Justification: Reformed Development of the Doctrine in Eighteenth-Century New England (Lanham: University Press of America, 2012); Bogue, Covenant of Grace, 163, 227–51. Those who argue that Edwards was heterodox in some measure in comparison with historic Reformed expressions include: Thomas A. Schafer, “Jonathan Edwards and Justification by Faith,” CH 20 (1951): 55–67; George Hunsinger, “Dispositional Soteriology: Jonathan Edwards on Justification by Faith Alone,” WTJ 66 (2004): 107–20; Gerald R. McDermott, “Jonathan Edwards on Justification by Faith—More Protestant or Catholic?” Pro Ecclesia 17/1 (2008): 92–111; idem, “Salvation as Divinization: Jonathan Edwards, Gregory Palamas and the Theological Uses of Neoplatonism,” in Jonathan Edwards: Philosophical Theologian, ed. Paul Helm / Oliver D. Crisp (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2003), 127–38; Steven M. Studebaker, “Jonathan Edwards’ Pneumatological Concept of Grace

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some that debate on the articulus stantis et cadentis ecclesia surrounds one of the Reformed tradition’s purportedly greatest luminaries. On the other hand, despite the present popular estimation of Edwards’s theological reputation, he has always been a controversial figure. Nineteenth-century Reformed theologians such as Charles Hodge (1797–1878), Robert Dabney (1820–98), James Thornwell (1812–62), and John Girardeau (1825–98) accused Edwards of transgressing the confessional boundaries of the Reformed tradition due to his views on causation, the freedom of will, contingency, pantheism, and imputation.95 In his funeral oration for the Southern stalwart, for example, Thomas Johnson noted that Dabney walked the old paths of the Westminster Standards whereas Edwards “founded a theology” which was “untrue and to be repudiated.” Dabney therefore “cuts up Edwardsism by the roots.”96 So, then, setting aside the broader question regarding the reception of his thought, how do Edwards’s doctrines of the pactum and justification differ from Gill’s? And how does Edwards’s thought on these subjects compare with earlier iterations of these doctrines. This second question is especially important given three factors. First, as a group, New England Congregationalists were committed to the theology of the Westminster Standards.97 Their commitment to these confessional documents was no doubt due to the labors of earlier Congregationalist theologians, such as Thomas Goodwin and John Owen, who modified and adopted the Westminster Confession (1647) in the Savoy Declaration (1654).98 Second, the theology of William Ames provides a test case by which to compare Edwards’s views, as not only is his thought formative for the

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and Dispositional Soteriology: Resources for an Evangelical Inclusivism,” Pro Ecclesia 14/3 (2005): 324–39; Lawrence R. Rast Jr., “Jonathan Edwards on Justification by Faith,” CTQ 72 (2008): 347–62; Conrad Cherry, The Theology of Jonathan Edwards: A Reappraisal (New York: Doubleday, 1966), 90–106; Anri Morimoto, Jonathan Edwards and the Catholic Vision of Salvation (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1995). For the reception of Edwards’s thought among Southern Presbyterians see, Sean Michael Lucas, “‘He Cuts Up Edwardsism by the Roots’: Robert Lewis Dabney and the Edwardsian Legacy in the Nineteenth-Century South,” in The Legacy of Jonathan Edwards: American Religion and the Evangelical Tradition, ed. D. G. Hart / Sean Michael Lucas / Stephen J. Nichols (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2003), 200–16. On matters related to contingency and free choice and the broader reception of Edwards’s views see, Richard A. Muller, “Jonathan Edwards and the Absence of Free Choice: A Parting of the Ways in the Reformed Tradition,” Jonathan Edwards Studies Journal, 1/1 (2011): 3–22. Regarding imputation, see Oliver D. Crisp, Retrieving Doctrine: Essays in Reformed Theology (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2010), 47–68. Thomas C. Johnson, “Robert Lewis Dabney—A Sketch,” in In Memoriam: Robert Lewis Dabney (Knoxville: The University of Tennessee Press, 1899), 8–9. McClendon, Edwards and Justification, 21. Jaroslav Pelikan and Valerie Hotchkiss, ed., Creeds and Confessions of Faith in the Christian Tradition, 3 vols. (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2003), III:63–64, 104–05; Jones, Why Heaven Kissed Earth, 46–49; Trueman, John Owen, 4.

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development of the pactum salutis but his Marrow of Theology was among the first textbooks at the newly founded Harvard College. His influence among the burgeoning New England theological community was therefore significant. Moreover, Edwards was quite familiar with his work.99 Third, two theologians whom Edwards regularly cited were Francis Turretin and Petrus Van Mastricht (1630–1706), which means they can serve as other points of comparison.100 So even though Edwards might not have been as widely read as Gill, he was adequately familiar with Reformed confessional orthodoxy through the works of Ames, Turretin, Van Mastricht, and the Westminster Standards. In the broad scope Edwards affirms traditional elements of the doctrine of justification. He describes justification in the following manner: “A person is said to be justified when he is approved of God as free from the guilt of sin, and its deserved punishment, and as having that righteousness belonging to him that entitles to the reward of life.”101 But the intersection between union with Christ, justification, and the doctrine of faith warrant careful examination to determine the degree to which Edwards agreed and embraced the earlier Reformed tradition. One of the most debated statements in the Edwards corpus deals with union with Christ and justification: “What is real in the union between Christ and his people, is the foundation of what is legal.”102 Opinions are all over the map regarding the significance of this one statement, which includes: 1. Union with Christ wipes out legal imputation (Morimoto). 2. What is “real” refers to the believer’s faith which: a. Is standard Reformed nomenclature (McClendon, and similarly Lee). b. Inverts the legal and the transformative and makes justification based upon the believer’s transformation rather than Christ (Hunsinger). c. Rests justification upon the volitional will of the believer rather than upon Christ (Rast). d. Brings the believer into union with Christ, which earlier Reformed scholastic theologians supposedly did not teach ( Jenson and similarly Bogue). 3. What is “real” refers to the new infused disposition implanted by the Holy Spirit (Cho). 4. The indwelling presence of Christ is what is “real” and the ontological presence of Christ is the legal ground of justification (Schafer and similarly Caldwell).

99 John Dykstra Eusden, “Introduction,” in William Ames, The Marrow of Theology, trans. John Dykstra Eusden (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1968), 10–11. 100 McDermott, “Edwards on Justification by Faith,” 105; Bogue, Covenant of Grace, 63. 101 Edwards, “Justification by Faith,” 150. 102 Edwards, “Justification by Faith,” 158.

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5. What is “real” is the indwelling presence of Christ, which gives the believer access to the double-benefit of justification and sanctification (Waddington). 6. What is “real” refers to the love between two spirits, which in this case is the Holy Spirit. The sinner’s reception of the Holy Spirit originates in the pactum salutis (Bombaro).103 In order to determine Edwards’s precise meaning, the broader context of his statement is crucial: God don’t [sic] give those that believe an union with, or an interest in the Savior; in reward for faith, but only because faith is the soul’s active uniting with Christ, or is itself the very act of unition, on their part. God sees it fit, that in order to an union’s being established between two intelligent active beings or person, so as that they should be looked upon as one, there should be the mutual act of both, that each should receive the other, as actively joining themselves one to another. God in requiring this in order to an union with Christ by their own act, should be looked upon as one in law: what is real in the union between Christ and his people, is the foundation of what is legal; that is, it is something really in them, and between them, uniting them, that is the ground of the suitableness of their being accounted as one by the Judge; and if there is any act, or qualification in believers, that is of that uniting nature, that it is meet on that account that the Judge should look upon’em, and accept’em as one, no wonder that upon the account of the same act or qualification, he should accept the satisfaction and merits of the one, for the other, as if it were their satisfaction and merits: it necessarily follows, or rather is implied. And thus it is that faith justifies, or gives an interest in Christ’s satisfaction and merits, and a right to the benefits procured thereby, vis. As it thus makes Christ and the believer one in the acceptance of the Supreme Judge.104

Within this paragraph the overall context dictates that Edwards discusses faith, and hence, what is “real,” faith, unites the believer to Christ.105 This conclusion is warranted given what Edwards has written elsewhere regarding the nature of faith.106 The question as to whether Edwards remains within the bounds of his103 Morimoto, Edwards and the Catholic Vision of Salvation, 86–87; McClendon, Edwards and Justification, 116–17; Sang Hyun Lee, “Grace and Justification by Faith Alone,” in The Princeton Companion to Jonathan Edwards, ed. Sang Hyun Lee (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2005), 145; Hunsinger, “Dispositional Soteriology,” 114 n. 10; Rast, “Edwards on Justification by Faith,” 348; Jenson, America’s Theologian, 61; Bogue, Covenant of Grace, 239–40, 249–50; Cho, Edwards on Justification, 115; Schafer, “Edwards and Justification by Faith,” 58; Caldwell, Communion in the Spirit, 132–33; Waddington, “Edwards’s Doctrine of Justification,” 361–64; John J. Bombaro, Jonathan Edwards’s Vision of Reality: The Relationship of God to the World, Redemption History, and the Reprobate (Eugene: Pickwick Publications, 2012), 249, 253. 104 Edwards, “Justification by Faith,” 158. 105 So Hunsinger, “Dispositional Soteriology,” 114 n. 10; Lee, “Justification by Faith,” 145. 106 Jonathan Edwards, “Faith,” nos. 75, 77, 82, 102, 106, 123, 124, in The Works of Jonathan Edwards, vol. 21, ed. Sang Hyun Lee (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2003), 436–37, 444, 446–47, 460.

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toric Reformed theology turns on how he defines faith. What is the nature of this Spirit produced union-establishing faith? Answering this question about the nature of faith highlights one of the significant differences between Edwards and the earlier tradition. Like Gill, Edwards rejects the idea that faith is the instrument of justification, a tenet that was virtually universally confessed since the earliest days of the Reformation.107 Among the three test case theologians (Ames, Turretin, Van Mastricht) and the Westminster Standards, the instrumentality of faith is a settled and unquestioned fact.108 The same is true among New England Reformed theologians such as Peter Bulkeley (1583–1659) and Samuel Willard (1640–1707) as well as other English and Scottish theologians such as Thomas Ridgley, Thomas Boston, and John Brown of Haddington.109 Edwards, like Gill, likely felt the weight of contemporary objections against the instrumentality of faith. Edwards writes concerning faith as the instrumental cause of justification: But yet it must be owned that this is an obscure way of speaking, and there must certainly be some impropriety in calling of it an instrument wherewith we receive or accept justification; for the very persons that thus explain the matter speak of faith as being the reception or acceptance itself; and if so how can it be the instrument of reception or acceptance? Certainly there is a difference between the act and the instrument? 110

Edwards does not name the critics, nevertheless recent scholarship has presented persuasive evidence that the objections are likely similar to those of Edward Fowler (ca. 1631–1714), John Tillotson (1630–94), and William Sherlock (1641– 1707).111 A likely source for the rejection of faith as an instrumental cause of justification was the shifting metaphysical tides. The dominance of Aristotelian philosophy and its understanding of causality had been rejected. In the wake of the Enlightenment and the Rationalist critique of Renée Descartes (1596–1650), the only recognized category was efficient causality.112 This change in meta107 Gill, Complete Body of Divinity, II.v (p. 204). 108 Ames, Marrow of Theology, I.xxvii.14; Van Mastricht, Theoretico-practica theologia, VI.vi.14 (p. 806); Turretin, XVII.vii.5; WCF XI.ii; WLC q. 73. 109 Bulkeley, Gospel Covenant, I.vii (p. 59); Samuel Willard, A Brief Discourse of Justification (Boston: S. G., 1686), 5; Ridgley, Body of Divinity, II:101; Boston, Body of Divinity, 598; Brown, Natural and Revealed Religion, V.ii (pp. 374–76). 110 Edwards, “Justification by Faith,” 153. 111 McClendon, Edwards and Justification by Faith, 112–13. 112 Roger Ariew, Descartes and the Last Scholastics (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1999), 15– 16; PRRD, I:375–76; Theo Verbeek, Descartes and the Dutch: Early Reactions to Cartesian Philosophy 1637–1650 (Carbondale, Ill: Southern Illinois University Press, 1992), 19, 37–38; Aza Goudriaan, Reformed Orthodoxy and Philosophy, 1625–1750: Gisbert Voetius, Petrus Van Mastricht, and Anthonius Driessen (Leiden: Brill, 2006); J. A. Van Ruler, The Crisis of Causality: Voetius and Descartes on God, Nature, and Change (Leiden: Brill, 1995).

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physical presuppositions was a likely motivating factor that drove Edwards, Gill, and the critics against the Reformed view of the instrumentality of faith. In an Enlightenment worldview, there are no instrumental causes. In lieu of faith as the instrumental cause of justification, Edwards employed a distinction: natural versus moral fitness. Something that is naturally fit is simply a suitable companion to another thing. A nut and a bolt are naturally fit objects because they are made for one another. Moral fitness, on the other hand, is when something is commendable because of its moral excellence, such as when a person obeys the law and merits reward.113 Edwards scholars are divided as to the precise origins of this distinction. Some suggest it arises from Thomas Aquinas (1225–74) but in radically new Enlightenment dress (Cho and Lee), others from the Reformed tradition (McClenahan), and others from the science of Isaac Newton (1642–1727) (Cherry), which echoes the concept the medieval idea of condign (full) and congruent (half) merit, and others suggest that Edwards learned the categories from theologian-philosopher Samuel Clarke (1675–1729) (Fiering).114 And still other Edwards scholars note that this type of distinction permeates a number of points in Edwards’s theology, such as his doctrine of God.115 Regardless of its origins, there are two noteworthy observations about this distinction: (1) it is uncommon, if not unprecedented, in earlier Reformed discussions of justification; and (2) Edwards repeatedly invokes this distinction in his discussions of faith and justification.116 What is vital to note in his use of this 113 Edwards, “Justification by Faith,” 159. 114 Cho, Edwards on Justification, 71–73; Sang Hyun Lee, The Philosophical Theology of Jonathan Edwards (1998; Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000), 17–46; McClenahan, Edwards and Justification by Faith, 124–25; Cherry, Theology of Jonathan Edwards, 97–100; cf. Michael J. McClymond and Gerald R. McDermott, The Theology of Jonathan Edwards (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 392–94; Norman Fiering, Jonathan Edwards’s Moral Thought and Its British Context (Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2006), 89–90. 115 Caldwell, Communion in the Spirit, 72, 135–36. 116 McClenahan, for example, tries to argue that Edwards’s use of the distinction between natural and moral fitness was nothing new but common to the Reformed tradition (Edwards and Justification by Faith, 124–25). He cites one example from a sermon from Thomas Manton (1620–77). The context of Manton’s statement, which is crucial for determining its relevance, is a discussion on the law, not the doctrine of justification. This context bears upon Manton’s statement when he writes: “Some are more serious and consistent, and have a greater command over their thoughts; others are of a more slight and weak spirit, and less apt for duties of retirement and recollection; but our unfitness is usually moral rather than natural, not so much by temper as by ill use” (Thomas Manton, One hundred and Ninety Sermons on the Hundred and Nineteenth Psalm [London: Michael Hide, 1681], serm. XVI [p. 94], emphasis). Manton employs natural and moral here to denote man’s natural abilities versus his willful negligence to meditate upon God’s law, which the italicized portion of the quotation makes clear. These two terms have nothing to do with Edwards’s definition and use of these terms. A second cited quotation from another of Manton’s sermons is equally irrelevant. In context Manton only states that faith is fit for the work of redemption. He does not explain this fitness as moral or natural fitness (Thomas Manton, “Sermons Upon Phi-

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distinction, however, is that no matter what follows in Edwards’s discussion about the nature of faith in justification, he blankets the whole concept under the rubric of natural fitness. In other words, proponents of legalism would contend that faith working through love was morally fit, but Edwards places his understanding of faith under the non-meritorious category of natural fitness.117 But how, specifically, does Edwards construct his doctrine of faith? In one of his early miscellanies Edwards describes justifying faith in a multifaceted manner. When faith is directed towards a savior, it is called faith or trust, when it is towards a teacher it is belief, towards an excellent person it is love, and in the face of a command it is called obedience.118 Unlike the earlier tradition that carefully dissected the nature and function of faith from its fruits and evidences, Edwards has a more fulsome disorganized view.119 The Westminster Confession, for example, explains along similar lines to Edwards that faith yields obedience to God’s commands, trembles at the threats of the law, and embraces the promises of God. But the principal acts of saving faith are, “Accepting, Receiving, and Resting upon Christ alone for Justification, Sanctification, and Eternall life, by vertue of the Covenant of Grace” (XIV.ii).120 In its chapter on justification, the Confession states: “Faith, thus receiving and resting on Christ and his righteousnesse, is the alone instrument of Justification; yet is it not alone in the person justified, but is ever accompanied with all other saving graces, and is not dead faith, but worketh by Love” (XI.ii). In other words, the Confession distinguishes between faith, which chiefly receives, rests, and accepts (i. e., language denoting trust), and its fruit, namely love, obedience, and the like. Edwards makes no such distinction. Instead of embracing the traditional knowledge (notitia), assent (assensus), and trust (fiducia) definitional pattern of faith, Edwards maintains an affective model: “That even faith, or a steadfastly believing the truth, arises from a principle of love.”121 By way of contrast, Turretin, for example, recognizes the common threefold distinction regarding the three

117 118 119 120 121

lippians III.7–21,” The Complete Works of Thomas Manton, vol. 20 [London: James Nisbet & Co., 1874], serm. V [p. 48]). In fact, in contrast to Edwards, Manton clearly states that faith is the instrument of justification (see, e. g., Thomas Manton, A Practical Exposition Upon the Fifty-Third Chapter of Isaiah, in The Complete Works of Thomas Manton, vol. 3 [London: James Nisbet & Co., 1871], 415). Edwards was aware of the novelty of his distinction and even noted criticism of it without identifying the specific names of the critics ( Jonathan Edwards, “‘Controversies’: Justification,” in The Works of Jonathan Edwards, vol. 21, ed. Sang Hyun Lee [New Haven: Yale University Press, 2003], 354; McClenahan, Edwards and Justification by Faith, 124 n. 162; Fiering, Edwards’s Moral Thought, 89–90). Bombaro, Vision of Reality, 250. Edwards, Misc. 218, “Faith, Justifying,” WJE 13:344. Caldwell, Communion in the Spirit, 127. The Westminster Standards: An Original Facsimile (1648; Audubon: Old Paths Publications, 1997). Edwards, Misc. 411, “Faith,” WJE 13:471.

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acts of faith: notitia, assensus, and fiducia.122 Turretin explains, “The orthodox think trust is so of the essence of faith that it cannot be called faith which is destitute of trust.”123 And in stark contrast to Edwards, Turretin claims “faith cannot be obedience to the commands because thus two virtues would be confounded which are mutually distinct—‘faith and love’ (1 Cor. 13:13). The former is concerned with the promises of the gospel; the latter with the precepts of the law.” Faith is the cause and love is the effect, or faith is the instrument and love is its consequent fruit. For Turretin, “In the matter of justification, faith and works are opposed as opposites and contraries.”124 Edwards moves love, which was historically an effect of faith, into its very core.125 This was no slip of Edwards’s pen, but a conscious and deliberate decision on his part. In numerous places in his discourse on faith Edwards claims that faith arises from a principal of love.126 In fact, Edwards must have known he was departing from the tradition based on two considerations. First, in observation 140 Edwards writes: “That love belongs to the essence of saving faith, is manifest by comparing Is. 64:4 … as cited by the Apostle, I Cor. 2:9.” In the very next observation, no. 141, he writes the following: “Dr. Goodwin … says, ‘The papists say, wickedly and wretchedly, that love is the form and soul of faith.’”127 Edwards, therefore, was not ignorant of the traditional Reformed rejection of this idea. Even more telling is the editorial marginal comment entered by Jonathan Edwards, Jr. (1745–1801), “But how does the truth of this charge of wickedness appear?”128 In other words, Edwards’s son was not convinced of the “wickedness” of saying that “love is the form and soul of faith,” a conclusion undoubtedly reached by reading his father’s works. Second, Edwards explicitly draws the idea that love is the form of faith from William Sherlock, a theologian accused of Socinianism in the seventeenth-century. Sherlock claimed that faith arises “from a principle of love to God.”129 In the seventeenth century Sherlock was engaged in heated debate with John Owen over the doctrine of union with Christ. Owen first published Communion with God (1657) and Sherlock later responded with his “ridicule” in A Discourse Concerning the Knowledge of Jesus Christ and Our Union and Communion with Him (1674).130

122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130

Turretin, Institutes, XV.viii.3. Turretin, Institutes, XV.x.5. Turretin, Institutes, XV.xiii.6. Caldwell, Communion in the Spirit, 130–31. Edwards, “Faith,” nos. 20, 26, 140, 141, 148, in WJE 21:420–21, 422, 464, 467. Edwards, “Faith,” nos. 140–41, in WJE 21:464. Edwards, “Faith,” no. 141, in WJE 21:464 n. 9. Edwards, “Faith,” no. 148, in WJE 21:467–68. McClenahan, Edwards and Justification by Faith, 72–76; Trueman, John Owen, 123–25.

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In 1677 Owen published his major work on the doctrine of justification in which Sherlock, though not named, was in the cross hairs among other heterodox theologians.131 In his treatise, Owen addresses this specific question: “Some of late among ourselves,—and they want not them who have gone before them,— affirm that the works which the apostle excludes from justification are only the outward works of the law, performed without an inward principle of faith, fear, or the love of God.” Owen goes on to explain that the law excludes all types of works including those motivated by love.132 Owen, like Goodwin, whose statement Edwards cited above, also rejects the idea that love is the form of faith.133 Sherlock, by contrast, describes the relationship of love and union with Christ in very similar terms to Edwards’s. Sherlock, who in contrast to Edwards describes the union between Christ and believers as a political rather than mystical one, nevertheless maintains that Christ and believers “are acted by the same Principles, and love, and chuse the same things … when we are meek and humble, and patient and contented, as he was, we are as closely united to him, as if he dwelt in us, and we in him.” Love, according to Sherlock, is the “great Cement of Union.”134 These are themes that resonate in both Sherlock and Edwards, and given the explicit dependence of the latter upon the former, the connection between their understanding of faith is likely. The bottom line is that Edwards knowingly rejected the Reformed tradition’s definition of faith and was willing to agree with the tradition’s critics to support his view. Edwards’s overloaded doctrine of faith arises at several other points in his discussion of justification, which stands in stark contrast to Gill’s formulations. For Gill, the believer’s profession of faith is not his justification but rather the discovery of it. But for Edwards, in justification faith has a greater role than merely an expression of trust in the promises of the gospel by which a believer lays hold of and is united to Christ. Edwards takes issue with “Calvinian divines,” who, in his opinion, have not sufficiently explained the relationship between faith and perseverance. Edwards offers his own view: “For though a sinner is justified on his first act of faith, yet even then, in that act of justification, God has respect to perseverance, as being virtually in that first act; and ‘tis looked upon as if it were a property of the faith, by which the sinner is justified.”135 Important to note here is

131 McClenahan, Edwards and Justification by Faith, 73. 132 John Owen, Justification, in The Works of John Owen, vol. 5, ed. William Goold (Philadelphia: Leighton Publications, 1862), 231. 133 Owen, Justification, 103–04. 134 William Sherlock, A Discourse Concerning the Knowledge of Jesus Christ, and Our Union and Communion with him, etc. (London: Walter Kettilby, 1674), 173–74. 135 Edwards, Misc. 729, “Perseverance,” WJE 18:354.

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Edwards’s use of the term virtually. This is the same term he employs to characterize the work of Christ in the pactum salutis.136 Christ had not yet accomplished his intercessory work but it was virtually present, which ensured the salvation of the elect prior to the incarnation and completion of his work. Edwards therefore places the believer’s accomplished perseverance in the first act of faith, which means that the believer’s efforts are part of his justification, if only virtually factored.137 Once again, we should remember that this virtual perseverance falls under the category of natural fitness, not moral. The upshot of this distinction, at least to Edwards’ mind, is that he steers clear of works-righteousness and can still maintain justification sola fide. Moreover, the believer’s perseverance, according to Edwards, ultimately rests upon Christ’s indefectible perseverance.138 By way of contrast, the Westminster Confession does not locate the efficacy of the believer’s perseverance in his own efforts but rather in the immutability of God’s decree of election, the efficacy of Christ’s merit, and the abiding presence of the Spirit (XVII.ii). If Edwards were of the same opinion, there would be no need to factor the believer’s virtual perseverance in his initial act of faith. Edwards believed that because Scripture frequently mentioned repentance in connection with pardon, that it “is not intended any particular grace or act properly distinct from faith, that has a special influence in the affair of our pardon or justification, in like manner with faith.”139 This opinion stands in contrast to the Westminster Confession where repentance is not “any cause of the pardon thereof, which is the act of Gods free grace in Christ; yet is it of such necessity to all sinners, that none may expect pardon without it” (XV.iii). Similarly, Turretin explains: “Although remission of sins is promised to repentance (because it ought to accompany faith and be in him who is justified as a certain condition requisite from him because God cannot pardon sin to an impenitent), it does not follow that it can be said to justify with faith because it contributes nothing (neither meritoriously, nor instrumentally) to the act of justification.”140 In another miscellany entitled, “How We Are Justified by Works,” Edwards explains the relationship between Paul’s “man is justified by faith without the deeds of the law” (Rom. 3:28) and James’s “Ye see then how that by works a man is justified, and not by faith only” ( James 2:24). Edwards explains, “Our act of 136 Edwards, “Justification by Faith Alone,” 192. 137 Cf. Edwards, “‘Controversies’: Justification,” in WJE 21:371; idem, “Remarks on Important Theological Controversies,” VII.x, in The Works of Jonathan Edwards, vol. 2 (1834; Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1992), 598; Bogue, Covenant of Grace, 230. 138 Jonathan Edwards, Misc. 695, “Perseverance,” WJE 18:279; Bombaro, Vision of Reality, 252. 139 Edwards, Misc. 669, “Justification, whether Faith and Repentance are two distinct things that in like manner are the Conditions of justification,” WJE 18:213. 140 Turretin, Institutes, XVI.viii.20.

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closing with and accepting of Christ,” by which he refers to faith, “is not in all respects completed by our accepting him with our hearts till we have done it practically too, and so have accepted him with the whole man: soul, spirit and body.” In other words, in Edwards’s view, a person is not completely justified until faith issues forth in works—a person’s justification hinges upon faith producing works: “Indeed, as soon as we had done it in our hearts, the first moment our hearts had consented, we should be entitled in some sense; but we should not look on [the] fulfillment of the condition as being all respected, till we had also actually done it.”141 To be clear, lest Edwards be accused of conflating faith and works in justification, one must recall that faith is a naturally fit means of justification, not morally fit.142 These works, therefore, are not meritorious. And in the end, according to Edwards, these works are merely an expression of faith and natural evidence that the believer has closed with Christ.143 Given what he says about faith and that it must be expressed through works before a person can truly be justified, it should come as no surprise that Edwards embraces a two-staged view of justification. Edwards rejects what he calls a “conditional pardon or justification,” where a person’s legal status in this life is in question. Edwards likely rejects such a view because it represents works-righteousness, a true cause and effect rather than naturally fit relationship between faith and works. Edwards does not mention specific names, though he might have in mind the views of the Roman Catholic Church, Jacob Arminius (1560–1609), or Richard Baxter.144 But Edwards admits a certain type of two-staged doctrine of justification: “But not to dispute about this, we will suppose that there may be something or other at the sinner’s first embracing the gospel, that may properly be called justification or pardon, and yet that final justification, or real freedom from the punishment of sin, is still suspended on conditions hitherto unfulfilled.”145 Some historians claim this type of two-staged doctrine of justification is common to the Reformed tradition, though such claims rest upon a superficial reading of the relevant literature.146 141 142 143 144

Edwards, Misc. 996, “How We Are Justified by Works,” WJE 20:324–25. McClymond and McDermott, Theology of Jonathan Edwards, 396. Edwards, “Justification by Faith,” 207–09. Edwards, “Justification by Faith,” 167; cf. Jacob Arminius, Private Disputations, XLVIII.xii, in The Works of James Arminius, 3 vols., eds James Nichols and William Nichols (1825–75; Grand Rapids: Baker, 1991), II.407; Richard Baxter, Catholick Theology: Plain, Pure, Peaceable for Pacification of the Dogmatical Word-Warriors, 3 vols. (London: 1675), II:85. 145 Edwards, “Justification by Faith,” 168; cf. Edwards, “‘Controversies’: Justification,” in WJE 21:338. 146 McClymond and McDermott, Theology of Jonathan Edwards, 398–404, esp. 403–04. McClymond and McDermott cite Heppe’s Reformed Dogmatics where he quotes passages from Johann Heidegger (1633–98), Franciscus Burman (1628–79), and Marcus Wendelin (1584–1652) (Heinrich Heppe, Reformed Dogmatics: Set Out and Illustrated from the Sources

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Nevertheless, what conditions must be met for this final justification? Faith, principally rooted in love, must produce repentance, works, and perseverance before it is perfect. Hence, according to Edwards: “And even justification itself does in a sense attend and depend upon these after-works of the Spirit of God upon the soul. The condition of justification in a sense remains still be to performed, even after the first conversion, and the sentence of justification in a sense remains still to be passed, and the man remains still in a state of probation for heaven, which could not be, if his justification did not still depend on what remained to be done.”147 Edwards illustrates the connection between faith and works in the following manner: “The acts of holy Christian practice do as much belong to the acceptance of Christ as the outward act of a beggar, in putting forth his hand, and outwardly taking the gift offered him.” When the beggar accepts Christ’s gift of food, not only taking but eating the food does not deny the gracious origin of the food. Hence, “Practicing holiness is actual accepting that benefit of Christ’s purchase, as much as the beggar’s taking the gift, and vol-

[London: George Allen and Unwin Ltd., 1950], 562–63). They also claim that the Martin Luther (1483–1546) did not distinguish between justification and sanctification and that John Calvin (1509–64) referred to good works as “‘inferior causes’ of salvation” (403). A few brief comments are in order. First, McClymond and McDermott appeal to the Reformed sources in an imprecise way. Heidegger, for example, specifically states that there are two different kinds of justification (Est & alterius generis justificatio). The first is by faith alone and the second is for the person “already justified” ( Johannes Heidegger, Corpus Theologiae Christianae, vol. 2 [Tiguri: ex Officinia Heideggeriana, 1732], XX.lxxx [p. 303]; Heppe, Reformed Dogmatics, 562). This is the same precise point that Burman makes, “a different manner and type of justification” (diversa quaedam justificationis ratio ac facies) (Franciscus Burman, Synopseos Theologiae [Geneva: Ioannis Picteti, 1678], VI.v.35 [p. 208]; Heppe, Reformed Dogmatics, 562). The statement from Wendelin is merely, “True justification is not without inherent holiness” (Heppe, Reformed Dogmatics, 563), which no Reformed theologian would deny. Elsewhere Wendelin specifies that there are two different types of justification, one before God and the other before men (Marcus Wendelin, Christianae Theologiae, 9th ed [Amsterdam: apud Joannem Janssonium, 1657], I.xxv [p. 488]). Second, all three theologians (Heidegger, Burman, and Wendelin) in contrast to Edwards affirm that faith justifies instrumentally (Heidegger, Corpus Theologiae, XXII.lxvi [p. 297]; Burman, Synopseos Theologiae, VI.v.20 [p. 202]; Wendelin, Christianae Theologiae, I.xxv [p. 490]). That is, unlike Edwards who defines faith as love and obedience, which impacts the nature of the so-called final justification, these three theologians do not freight their definition and function of faith with love or obedience, which means that justification rests entirely upon the work of Christ and in no way upon the believer. Third, McClymond and McDermott appeal to the methodologically problematic work of Tuomo Mannermaa to support the claim that Luther blurred the lines between justification and sanctification. The Finnish school has built their entire case upon the early-Luther and not his mature theological work, such as his 1535 Galatians commentary (see Carl R. Trueman, “Is the Finnish Line a New Beginning? A Critical Assessment of the Reading of Luther Offered by the Helsinki Circle,” WTJ 65 [2003]: 231–44). 147 Edwards, Misc. 848, “Regeneration or Conversion,” WJE 20:74.

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untary having it, is the very same as his accepting it; or, as the eating food given him is accepting that food.”148 Notable at this point is that Edwards employs a common illustration for faith, namely, a beggar’s empty hand receiving a gift, but he modifies it.149 Earlier versions of the analogy have the beggar receiving alms whereas Edwards changes the received gift to food, which the beggar then eats. While one might legitimately argue that the beggar would eventually spend his received alms, which parallels Edwards’s beggar who eats the food, earlier versions of the analogy do not discuss spending the alms. Edwards takes this analogy, therefore, in a new direction to facilitate his unique understanding of the relationship between faith and works in justification. On this unique construction, McClymond and McDermott comment that Edwards, “Felt free to reject his tradition’s notion of faith as an instrument, to ignore Peter van Mastricht’s insistence that Protestants never consider inward change as part of justification, and to deny Turretin’s claim that works are not essential to faith.”150

4.4

Analysis

Questions about doctrinal orthodoxy should be set aside here, since these are of a dogmatic rather than historical nature. As a matter of history, no church ever charged Gill or Edwards with heterodoxy or heresy. Nevertheless, two things are clear: (1) both affirm the pactum salutis but have very different doctrines of justification; and (2) both departed from the confessional norms of the Reformed tradition.151 Edwards, in contrast to the earlier tradition, embraced justification by disposition rather than by the instrumental causality of faith.152 For Edwards, what is real in the union between Christ and his people, a dispositional faith principally rooted in love that produces repentance, good works, and virtual perseverance before it is perfect, is the foundation of what is legal.153 But once again we should note that, in Edwards’s mind, this dispositional faith is non148 Edwards, Misc. 856, “Justification. How Works Justify, or How a Christian Life and Practice Justifies,” WJE 20:83. 149 For citations and uses of the beggar analogy among numerous Reformed theologians see J. V. Fesko, “Arminius on Facientibus Quod In Se Est and Likely Medieval Sources,” in Church and School in Early Modern Protestantism: Studies in Honor of Richard A. Muller on the Maturation of a Theological Tradition, ed. Jordan Ballor / David Sytsma / Jason Zuidema (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 347–60, esp. 351–56. 150 McClymond and McDermott, Theology of Jonathan Edwards, 404; cf. Van Mastricht, Theoretico-practica theologia, VI.vi.19 (pp. 807–08); Turretin, Institutes, XVI.viii.8–15. 151 Caldwell, Communion in the Spirit, 96. 152 Caldwell, Communion in the Spirit, 122. 153 Similarly, Hunsinger, “Dispositional Soteriology,” 114 n. 10.

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meritorious. It is the naturally fit component to justification and rests upon the imputed righteousness of Christ given in the eternal pactum salutis. But what led Edwards to depart so dramatically from the Reformed tradition and how, despite the differences, is his view similar to Gill’s? One of the likely causes behind Edwards’s unique view was the shifting metaphysical ground. The once commonly held Aristotelianism with its multifaceted view of causation (instrumental, material, formal, final) was scuttled, which likely led Edwards to reject faith as an instrumental cause of justification. In a post-Enlightenment view there are only efficient causes, hence for Edwards there can only be one causative agent in the sinner’s justification, God. But to maintain this conviction, Edwards pursued his goal in a diametrically opposed manner to Gill’s. Gill pushed justification into eternity and the immanent trinity (opera ad intra) into his modified pactum salutis, where God was the only efficient cause and fallen humanity could in no way lay claim to God’s grace by his merit. Hence, Gill had no reason to be concerned about the instrumentality of faith in justification.154 Though rooted in the pactum salutis, Edwards pushed his doctrine of justification in the opposite direction and spread it out over history with its ultimate realization at the final judgment. Both sought to preserve the monergism of justification. Gill’s view is more understandable given the earlier tradition and its struggles with antinomianism, but what other considerations drove Edwards to reconfigure traditional Reformed teaching? A likely component and seldom factored issue vis-à-vis Edwards’s doctrines of justification and the pactum is his occasionalism, or the idea that God destroys and re-creates the world ex nihilo on a moment-by-moment basis—i. e., the doctrine of continual creation.155 Oliver Crisp has explored the connections between occasionalism and imputed guilt, which suggests an answer to the peculiarity of Edwards’s doctrine of justification. In brief, Crisp argues that Edwards held neither to a traditional federal view of immediate imputation (e. g., Turretin) nor a realist view of mediate imputation (e. g., Augustine).156 Analysts have debated the precise nature of Edwards’s view. Various views are that Edwards: eschewed all federalism (Helm), maintained a federalist-mediate view of imputation (Hodge and William Cunningham), or

154 Gill was willing, unlike Edwards, to employ the idea of instrumental causality in his doctrine of providence (Complete Body of Divinity, III.iv [pp. 277–304]). 155 Crisp, Edwards on God and Creation, 24–25; cf. Jonathan Edwards, Original Sin, in The Works of Jonathan Edwards, vol. 3, ed. Clyde A. Holbrook (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1970), 401–02. 156 Crisp, Retrieving Doctrine, 51–55; cf. Augustine, City of God, XIII.iii, in NPNF 2:246; Turretin, Institutes, IX.ix.1–45.

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held to a federalist-immediate view of imputation (B. B. Warfield and John Murray).157 Crisp offers a fourth option, characterizing Edwards’s view as non-federalimmediate imputation. Based upon analysis of a debated passage in Edwards’s treatise Original Sin, Crisp explains that Adam’s sin was twofold: his depraved disposition and the outworking of that evil disposition, which became a confirmed principle.158 There is a parallel in Edwards’s thought between Adam’s sin, disposition and confirmed principle, and faith, which arises from love but is not complete until it is manifest in good works. Even though Adam’s disposition and confirmed principle are two distinct elements, God nevertheless treats them as one forensic unit, and thus as one action. This same pattern unfolds for Adam’s progeny. God imputes Adam’s original sin to humanity in terms of the disposition and act. The fallen offspring of Adam, then, incur guilt because they immediately receive Adam’s disposition because they are in covenant with him, but they are not held accountable until it becomes a confirmed principle.159 As complex as these matters are, the overall pattern of disposition confirmed by action, which is treated as one whole unit both in sin (union with Adam) and faith (union with Christ), points to Edwards’s doctrine of occasionalism. In both states (either in union with Adam or Christ), God as the sole efficient cause continually creates each successive moment of time in which believers’ faith is manifest in works. But since God is the lone efficient cause, and faith is naturally, not morally, suitable, the entire enterprise is monergistic and does not fall into the category of work-righteousness. Crisp points out that what accounts for the idiosyncrasy of Edwards’s view is that he took traditional Reformed teaching and reoriented it around new metaphysical lines, i. e., his doctrine of continual creation.160 Another likely contributing source for Edwards’s unique views arises from his commitment to Neoplatonism. Scholars have long noted the connections between Edwards and Neoplatonic thought.161 Space prohibits a thorough exploration of Edwards’s philosophical commitments, nevertheless three noteworthy points merit attention. First, a key tenet of Neoplatonism is that there is no distinction between God and the creation, rather all beings emanate from the 157 For relevant citations of the aforementioned positions of Helm, Hodge, Cunningham, Warfield, and Murray, see Crisp, Retrieving Doctrine, 55–61. 158 Edwards, Original Sin, in WJE 3:390; Crisp, Retrieving Doctrine, 63. 159 Crisp, Retrieving Doctrine, 63–65; Jonathan Edwards, Misc. 717, “First Covenant. The Fall,” in WJE 18:348–49. 160 Crisp, Retrieving Doctrine, 66. 161 E. g., Emily Stipes Watts, “Jonathan Edwards and the Cambridge Platonists” (Ph.d Diss.: University of Illinois, 1963); Rufus Suter, “A Note on Platonism in the Philosophy of Jonathan Edwards,” HTR 52 (1959): 283–84; McClymond, “Salvation as Divinization,” 142–44

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divine being. While Edwards does maintain some distinction between the creator and creature, his occasionalism parallels the Neoplatonic idea of creation as emanation.162 Not only does this element of Edwards’s thought account for his occasionalism, but his emanation-like creation also explains why Edwards spreads out the pactum-rooted doctrine of justification throughout history. This stands in contrast to Gill, who largely locates justification within the immanent trinity. For Edwards, God’s creation of space and time increases the divine being, though he does not need the creation or time in order to actualize his divine perfections. Nevertheless, God overflows into space and time, which explains why Edwards would spread out his doctrine of justification throughout history.163 One moment cannot exhaust the nature of justification or faith, so God initiates the sinner’s salvation in the pactum, executes it in the initial profession of faith, undergirds it all moment-by-moment through his continual creation, and completes it at the final judgment where faith’s perfection is finally manifest in repentance, obedience, and perseverance. The disposition alone is insufficient— it must become a confirmed principle. Second, scholars have noted that Edwards’s concept of love is essentially Neoplatonic. Love is the highest of all virtues, indeed the only true virtue, and the best means by which fallen but redeemed sinners can worship God.164 For Edwards, love envelopes the whole pactum-justification complex. Recall that the Spirit is the bond of love between the Father and Son in the pactum and is also Christ’s reward by which he redeems fallen but elect sinners. The Spirit then unites sinners to Christ by faith, and this dispositional faith arises from a principle of love. In this respect, the believer not only receives God’s love by faith but he also demonstrates his love to God by faith.165 Third, these themes and commitments stand in contrast to the tradition’s earlier estimation of Neoplatonism. In the sixteenth- and early seventeenthcenturies, Reformed theologians were largely committed to a modified Aristotelianism. William Twisse, for example, believed that Aristotelianism could be modified and employed in service of theology but that the same could not be said

162 Stephen H. Daniel, “Edwards as Philosopher,” in The Cambridge Companion to Jonathan Edwards, ed. Stephen J. Stein (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 166–70; Sang Hyun Lee, “God’s Relation to the World,” in The Princeton Companion to Jonathan Edwards, ed. Sang Hyun Lee (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2005), 64. 163 Lee, “God’s Relation to the World,” 68. 164 Emily Stipes Watts, “The NeoPlatonic Basis of Jonathan Edwards’ ‘True Virtue,’” Early American Literature 10/2 (1975): 179–89, esp. 189; cf. Jonathan Edwards, The Nature of True Virtue, in Works of Jonathan Edwards, vol. 8, ed. Paul Ramsey (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989), 537–628. 165 Jonathan Edwards, “Sermon One: Love the Sum of All Virtues,” in Works of Jonathan Edwards, vol. 8, ed. Paul Ramsey (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989), 129–48.

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of Platonism.166 There were some Reformed theologians, such as Theophilus Gale (1628–78), who took elements of Plato’s philosophy and mixed them with Aristotelianism.167 But whatever affinities Gale had for Plato, he thought differently of Neoplatonism, which he believed it was a “breeding ground of heresy.”168 In a word, Edwards’s philosophical outlook was different from his sixteenth- and seventeenth-century counterparts, and this impacted his theology at multiple points, which is evident in his doctrines of the pactum and especially his understanding of faith.

4.5

Conclusion

Both Edwards and Gill felt pressured by the philosophical Zeitgeist and modified the Reformed doctrines of the pactum salutis and justification to accommodate these challenges. But in their efforts to slay secondary and instrumental causality and keep works-righteousness at bay, they opened Pandora’s box. The specter of pantheism rises for Edwards and the superfluity of the creation and incarnation surfaces for Gill. The question of divine determinism at the expense of genuine human freedom, as it was traditionally defined in the Reformed confessions (e. g., WCF IX), also lurks for both of these eighteenth-century theologians. But these innovative trends did not continue unchecked. Even though the eighteenthcentury witnessed the deconfessionalization and doctrinal disintegration, evident at several points in Gill and Edwards, the nineteenth-century witnessed a renaissance of commitment to confessional Reformed theology. In the next chapter we turn to investigate the doctrine of the pactum salutis in the nineteenth century and in theology of Charles Hodge.

166 PRRD, I:369. 167 Theophilus Gale, The Court of the Gentiles, Part IV, Wherein Plato’s Moral, and Metaphysic or prime Philospohie is reduced to an useful Forme and Method (London: Thomas Cockeril, 1678). 168 PRRD, I:160, 392.

5.

The Nineteenth Century

5.1

Introduction

In the previous chapter we observed two instances of what some have called the “deconfessionalization and denominational disintegration of the eighteenth century.”1 While John Gill (1697–1771) and Jonathan Edwards (1703–58) were committed to their Reformed confessional heritage, they were not shy about departing from it at points. This was especially evident in their rejection of the instrumental role of faith in justification. Both theologians went off script, and improvised their own monologue in the confessional theological drama in which they played significant roles. But this deconfessionalization trend did not mean that the Reformed symbols were on life support soon to be unplugged, buried, and forgotten. Even though the waters of the Enlightenment threatened to inundate and drown old theological ideas, there was an exegetically informed but nonetheless confessional strain of Reformed theologians that emerged in the nineteenth century. Theologians at the College of New Jersey, later Princeton Seminary, wedded classic Reformation confessional theology with new Enlightenment thought forms. The common narrative that scholars tell is that the Princetonians failed to produce the gold of good theology with their alchemy of mixing Scripture and rationalism. But there is an alternative story, one that takes into account the doctrine of the pactum salutis, something scholars critical of Old Princeton’s epistemology have not factored in their analysis. The pactum provides a window into the epistemology and soteriology of Old Princeton theology. Hence this chapter will survey the doctrine of the pactum through the theology of Charles Hodge (1797– 1878), the one man who embodies the Old Princeton ideal. The chapter will begin 1 Richard A. Muller, “Philip Dodderidge and the Formulation of Calvinistic Theology in an Era of Rationalism and Deconfessionalization,” in Religion, Politics and Dissent, 1660–1832: Essays in Honour of James E. Bradley, eds. Robert D. Cornwall, William Gibson (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2009), 65–84.

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with a survey of Hodge’s intellectual context, which is vital to understand his theology and philosophical commitments. It will subsequently explore his doctrine of the pactum and examine the connections with theology proper, revelation, anthropology, christology, and soteriology. All of these loci converge in the covenant of redemption and have implications for Hodge’s overall epistemological convictions and his soteriology. The chapter will demonstrate two chief points: (1) that Hodge was no rationalist despite his commitment to certain Enlightenment forms of thought; and (2) that his theological formulations were essentially those of his Reformation forbearers. Unlike Edwards, who was influenced by the philosophical currents of his day and constructed his theology accordingly, Hodge held the confessional line. He did so, not out of dedication to tradition but because of biblical conviction. Hodge, unlike Edwards, poured old wine into new wineskins. He promoted an old world theology in the accented idiom of a new enlightened world.

5.2

The Intellectual Context

A firm grasp of Hodge’s intellectual context, both in terms of philosophy and theology, is vital for a proper appreciation of how the doctrine of the pactum functions within his broader theological system. The philosophical and theological currents that fed into Hodge’s system find their origin in both his familial upbringing as well as in the fertile soil of the Princeton Seminary. Hodge’s father died when he was only six months old, which left the task of parenting him to his mother, Mary Blanchard Hodge.2 Hodge recounts that his mother regularly took him to church and carefully drilled him in the Westminster Shorter Catechism, which he recited to his pastor, Dr. Ashbel Green (1762–1848).3 So from his earliest days and throughout his upbringing, Hodge was schooled in the theology of the Westminster Standards. This is a trend that would continue in his days as a student at the newly founded Princeton Seminary (1812), though his education would be marked by a significantly greater philosophical and theological sophistication, as one might expect. The theological currents at Princeton Seminary find their ultimate genesis in the Protestant Reformation, chiefly embodied in the Westminster Standards. Princeton Seminary was established in 1812 but grew out of the College of New Jersey, which was founded in 1746 and eventually renamed Princeton University 2 W. Andrew Hoffecker, Charles Hodge: The Pride of Princeton (Phillipsburg: P & R, 2011), 34– 35. 3 Charles Hodge, Autobiography, in A. A. Hodge, The Life of Charles Hodge (1880; Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 2010), 13.

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in 1896.4 One of the key architects in the construction of the theological curriculum at the College and eventually the Seminary was John Witherspoon (1723– 94), who was president of the College from 1768–94. Witherspoon was a Scottish minister who immigrated to the American colonies to take up his presidential post. Like many Scottish Presbyterian ministers at the time, Witherspoon was committed to the theology of the Westminster Standards; he subscribed ex animo to them, which is a trend that continued throughout the nineteenth century.5 But in addition to his theological convictions, Witherspoon also brought other philosophical ideas to the table and mixed them into the ethos of the College. Witherspoon was exposed to the Scottish Enlightenment, and in particular to the philosophy of Thomas Reid (1710–96), one of the chief proponents of what has been called Scottish Common Sense Realism. When Witherspoon first arrived at the College he discovered that the faculty favored the theology of Jonathan Edwards, which should be no surprise given that Edwards was the third president of the College, though his tenure was cut very short by his death due to a smallpox vaccination gone awry.6 Moreover, one of the faculty members was Jonathan Edwards, Jr. (1745–1801). The faculty, therefore, understandably esteemed the theology of Edwards, and the philosophy of George Berkeley (1685– 1753). Berkeley’s philosophy was agreeable to Edwardsian theologians because the philosopher, like Edwards, believed that what people consider as the material world is actually merely ideas in the mind of God. Matter, and therefore a material creation, does not physically exist.7 Witherspoon was not disposed to these theological or philosophical commitments. Witherspoon embraced the reality of causation and eschewed the skepticism of David Hume (1711–76), which stood in contrast to Edwards’s denial of secondary causality.8 Witherspoon believed that everything that does not have 4 On the general history of Princeton Seminary, see James H. Moorhead, Princeton Seminary in American Religion and Culture (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2012); David B. Calhoun, Princeton Seminary, 2 vols. (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1994). 5 Mark A. Noll. Princeton and the Republic 1768–1822 (Vancouver: Regent College Publishing, 1989), 47. See, e. g., Samuel Miller, Doctrinal Integrity: The Utility and Importance of Creeds and Confessions and Adherence to our Doctrinal Standards (1824, 1833, 1839, 1841; Dallas: Presbyterian Heritage Publications, 1989). 6 George M. Marsden, Jonathan Edwards: A Life (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2003), 490– 95. 7 Noll, Princeton and the Republic, 38. Cf. George Berkeley, A Treatise Concerning the Principles of Human Knowledge, §§ XXII–XXIV, in The English Philosophers: From Bacon to Mill, ed. Edwin A. Burtt (1939; New York: Random House, 1994), 554–55; Frederick Copleston, A History of Philosophy, 9 vols. (New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1959), 5:243–48; Dion Scott-Kakures, et al., History of Philosophy (New York: HarperCollins, 1993), 191–93; Oliver D. Crisp, Jonathan Edwards on God and Creation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 33–36. 8 See, e. g., David Hume, An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding, IV.i, in The English Philosophers: From Bacon to Mill, ed. Edwin A. Burtt (1939; New York: Random House, 1994),

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necessary existence, such as God, must have a cause. He objects to doubters: “About this and some other ideas great stir has been made by some infidel writers, particularly David Hume, who seems to have industriously endeavored to shake the certainty of our belief upon cause and effect, upon personal identity and the idea of power.”9 In opposition to Hume’s skepticism and Berkeley’s and Edwards’s anti-materialism, Witherspoon promoted Scottish Common Sense Realism: Some late writers have advanced with great apparent reason, that there are certain first principles or dictates of common sense, which are either simple perceptions, or seen with intuitive evidence. These are the foundation of all reasoning, and without them, to reason is a word without meaning. They can no more be proved than you can prove an axiom in mathematical science. These authors of Scotland have lately produced and supported this opinion, to resolve at once all the refinements and metaphysical objections of some infidel writers.10

Given Witherspoon’s realist philosophical commitments, the faculty found themselves out of step with their new president and quickly moved on to other posts within a year of his arrival.11 In short, Witherspoon’s commitment to Scottish Common Sense Realism virtually eliminated the influence of Edwards and significantly shaped the College for generations to come.12 Witherspoon’s epistemology would echo well into the twentieth-century in the theology of Princeton Seminary and of Benjamin Warfield (1887–1921). The degree of Witherspoon’s influence over the College and its faculty is debatable, but one thing is certain: the College and eventually Princeton Seminary embraced the chief elements of Reid’s realism, which was wedded to the scientific theories of Francis Bacon (1561–1626) and Isaac Newton (1642–1727).13 Bacon championed the cause of inductive reasoning, or drawing conclusions

9 10 11 12 13

624–29; Copleston, History of Philosophy, 5:273–88; Kakures, History of Philosophy, 213–23; cf. Richard A. Muller, “Jonathan Edwards and the Absence of Free Choice: A Parting of Ways In the Reformed Tradition,” Jonathan Edwards Studies, 1/1 (2011): 1–20. John Witherspoon, Lectures on Moral Philosophy, in The Works of the Rev. John Witherspoon, vol. 3 (Bristol: Thoemmes Press, 2003), lect. VI (p. 395). Witherspoon, Moral Philosophy, lect. VI (p. 395); Noll, Princeton and the Republic, 39. Noll, Princeton and the Republic, 37. Noll, Princeton and the Republic, 43. Theodore Dwight Bozeman, Protestants in an Age of Science: The Baconian Ideal and Antebellum American Religious Thought (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1977), 7, 21; cf. Francis Bacon, Novum Organum, I.i–cxxx, in The English Philosophers: From Bacon to Mill, ed. Edwin A. Burtt (1939; New York: Random House, 1994), 29–93; Kakures, History of Philosophy, 104–06; Isaac Newton, “Rules of Reasoning in Philosophy,” in The Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy (1686; New York: Daniel Adee, 1848), III (p. 385); idem, Correspondence of Sir Isaac Newton and Professor Cotes, ed. J. Edleston (London: John W. Parker, 1850), 154–57; John Gribbin, The Scientists: A History of Science Told Through the Lives of its Greatest Inventors (New York: Random House, 2004), 134–35, 149–92.

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based upon evidence and experimentation in contrast to deductive reasoning, which starts with a theory and then seeks to confirm it.14 Hodge’s professors— Ashbel Green, Archibald Alexander (1772–1851), and Samuel Miller (1769–1850) —embraced these philosophical tenets. But philosophy did not constitute the heart of Hodge’s education, as important as it was. In addition to realism and Baconian inductive methodology, Princeton Seminary exposed Hodge to the theology of Francis Turretin (1623–87). This mixture of old world theology (the Westminster Standards and Turretin) with new world ideas (Scottish realism) produced some distinct results when one compares Hodge’s doctrine of the pactum with the views of Edwards and Gill. In order to assess the impact, we must first turn to survey briefly Hodge’s understanding of the pactum salutis.

5.3

Hodge on the pactum salutis

We find Hodge’s exposition of the pactum in his treatment of the covenant of grace, where he opens his discussion under the heading, “The Plan of Salvation is a Covenant.”15 Like his Reformed predecessors, Hodge begins his discussion with a basic definition of a covenant, which he defines as “a mutual contract between two or more parties,” where there are “mutual promises or stipulations and conditions.”16 He bases his definition upon consideration of a number of passages of Scripture as well as the terms ‫ ברית‬and διαθήκη. Hodge then takes this data and begins to explain the covenantal nature of redemption, though he notes the apparent discrepancy in Scripture regarding the parties of the covenant. With whom, specifically, did God make the covenant of grace? Is the covenant between God and elect sinners or God and Christ? There seems to be two different ways, then, of configuring the covenantal nature of salvation. Hodge explains this apparent tension by introducing the pactum salutis: “There are in fact two covenants relating to the salvation of fallen man, the one between God and Christ, the other between God and his people. These covenants differ not only in their parties, but also in their promises and conditions. Both are so clearly presented in the Bible that they should not be confounded. The latter, the covenant of grace, is founded upon the former, the covenant of redemption.”17 Hodge distinguishes the two covenants by drawing attention to the explanations of Turretin and Herman Witsius (1636–1708).18 Turretin contends that God makes the pactum with Christ, who functions as mediator and covenant 14 15 16 17 18

Bozeman, Protestants in an Age of Science, 11. Charles Hodge, Systematic Theology, 3 vols. (rep.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993), II:354. Hodge, Systematic Theology, II:354–55. Hodge, Systematic Theology, II:357–58. Hodge, Systematic Theology, II:359.

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surety, and then makes the covenant of grace with the elect in Christ.19 Witsius says something slightly different, but makes essentially the same point. God makes a covenant with his Son to be the redeemer and head of the elect, and the Son presents himself as sponsor or surety on their behalf. But the covenant between God and the elect is not strictly a covenant but rather a “testamentary disposition” (testamentaria dispositio), by which God gives an immutable covenant to the elect.20 Hodge appears disinterested in the precise nature of Witsius’s designation of the covenant of grace as a “testamentary disposition,” but more attuned to the distinction the Dutchman makes between the two covenants. Witsius’s designation of the covenant of grace as a testamentary disposition was a mediating position between the Cocceians and Voetians, who debated over the precise definitions of foedus and testamentum.21 What formerly divided theologians and created factions was of no concern to Hodge. In fact, regarding the distinction between the pactum and covenant of grace, Hodge opines: “There is no doctrinal difference between those who prefer the one statement and those who prefer the other.”22 Hodge likely had other contemporary theologians in mind who did not embrace the pactum, such as W. G. T. Shedd (1820–1894). Shedd, for example, argues: “The covenant of grace and that of redemption are two modes or phases of the one evangelical covenant of mercy. The distinction is only a secondary or subdistinction.”23 American contemporaries such as Robert L. Dabney (1820–1898) and Benjamin Palmer (1818– 1902) taught the pactum.24 Among Hodge’s contemporaries on the European scene, James Buchanan (1804–70) taught the doctrine but Robert Shaw (1795– 1863) rejected it. In fact, Shaw believed that the distinction between the two covenants had been “long since abandoned by all evangelical divines.”25 19 Francis Turretin, Institutes of Elenctic Theology, 3 vols., ed. James T. Dennison, Jr., trans. George Musgrave Giger (Phillipsburg: P & R, 1992–97), XII.ii.12. 20 Herman Witsius, The Economy of the Covenants Between God and Man, trans. William Crookshank (1822; Escondido: Den Dulk Foundation, 1990), II.i.1; idem, De Oeconomia Doederum Dei cum Hominibus (Herborn: Iohannis Nicolai Andreae, 1712). 21 Brian J. Lee, “The Covenant Terminology of Johannes Cocceius: The Use of Foedus, Pactum, and Testamentum in a Mature Federal Theologian,” MAJT 14 (2003): 11–36; Willem J. van Asselt, The Federal Theology of Johannes Cocceius (1603–69) (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 197–226. 22 Hodge, Systematic Theology, II:358. Unsurprisingly, Hodge’s son and successor to his professorial chair at Princeton, A. A. Hodge (1823–1886), offers a similar sentiment, though, unlike his father, he does not embrace the distinction between the pactum and the covenant of grace (A. A. Hodge, Outlines of Theology [1860; Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1991], 369–70). 23 W. G. T. Shedd, Dogmatic Theology, 3 vols. (1888; Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1969), II:360. 24 Robert L. Dabney, Systematic Theology (1878; Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1996), 432–39; Thomas Cary Johnson, The Life and Letters of Benjamin Morgan Palmer (Richmond: Presbyterian Committee of Publication, 1906), 256. 25 James Buchanan, The Doctrine of Justification: An Outline of Its History in the Church and of its Exposition from Scripture (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1867), 294–95; Carl Trueman, “A Tract for the Times: James Buchanan’s The Doctrine of Justification in Historical and Theological

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Hodge notes that the Westminster Standards oscillate between these two different positions, perhaps indicative of the difference of opinions among the Westminster divines. The Confession of Faith, for example, states that God makes the covenant of grace with “sinners” and offers life unto them “by Jesus Christ” (VII.iii), whereas the Larger Catechism explains that God made the covenant of grace with “Christ as the second Adam, and in Him with all the elect as his seed” (q. 31). Hodge’s reputation as a theological pugilist does not at all surface in his promotion of the pactum—he has a rather irenic tone, though he does present his case for the legitimacy and necessity of the doctrine. Despite his reputation for being a rationalist, Hodge begins to discuss the specific elements of the pactum with a degree of circumspection: “We must receive the teachings of the Scriptures in relation to it [the pactum] without presuming to penetrate the mystery which naturally belongs to it.”26 He then makes a brief statement about the trinitarian opera ad intra. He acknowledges that there is only one God, but that in the godhead there are three persons who possess the same substance, power, and glory. By virtue of the nature of personality, and therefore the reality of the three persons, “one person is objective to another.” In other words, the three persons of the trinity can and do objectively relate to one another: “The one may love, address, and commune with the other. The Father may send the Son, may give Him a work to do, and promise Him recompense. All this is indeed incomprehensible to us, but being clearly taught in Scripture, it must enter into the Christian’s faith.”27 What Scripture does Hodge adduce to demonstrate the validity of the pactum? Hodge believes it is unnecessary to present various passages of Scripture that make direct assertions about the existence of the pactum. This does not contradict Hodge’s previously stated point and prove that he is now taking off on a flight of speculation. Hodge instead leaves his exegetical spadework off to the side for a more streamlined discussion.28 He does not explicitly make the point, but Hodge would likely want readers to consult his commentary on Ephesians. Towards the end of his exegesis of Ephesians 1:1–14, Hodge writes: It was in Christ, as their head and representative, they were chosen to holiness and eternal life, and, therefore, in virtue of what he was to do in their behalf. There is a federal union with Christ which is antecedent to all actual union, and is the source of it. God gave a people to his Son in the covenant of redemption. Those included in that covenant, and because they are included in it,—in other words, because they are in Context,” in The Faith Once Delivered, ed. Anthony T. Selvaggio (Phillipsburg: P & R, 2007), 53–56; Robert Shaw, An Exposition of the Westminster Confession of Faith (1845; Ross-shire: Christian Heritage, 1998), 127. 26 Hodge, Systematic Theology, II:359. 27 Hodge, Systematic Theology, II:359–60. 28 Hodge, Systematic Theology, II:360.

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Christ as their head and representative,—receive in time the gift of the Holy Spirit, and all other benefits of redemption. Their voluntary union with Christ by faith is not the ground of their federal union, but, on the contrary, their federal union is the ground of their voluntary union. It is, therefore, in Christ, i. e., as united to him in the covenant of redemption, that the people of God are elected to eternal life, and to all the blessings therewith connected. Their relation to Abraham and God’s covenant with him, were the ground and reason of all the peculiar blessings they enjoyed. So our covenant union with Christ is the ground of all the benefits which we, as the people of God possess or hope for.29

In a word, Hodge was merely trying to save space and, like Calvin before him, offer theological argumentation and conclusions in his Systematic Theology and present his exegesis in his commentary. Hodge also appeals to Romans 5:12–21, which presents the Adam-Christ parallel. Just as God entered into a covenant with Adam, so he entered into a covenant with Christ, and just as Adam is the head and representative of his offspring, so Christ is the covenantal head of those who are united to him.30 Hodge’s comments in his Systematic Theology are sparse and to the point in comparison with his Romans commentary. The commentary was initially published some thirty years before his Systematic Theology and was the fruit of his classroom labors as a professor of NT, a position he held prior to teaching systematic theology. Particularly noteworthy are Hodge’s comments on Romans 5:14, “Adam, who was a type of the one who was to come.” A type, according to Hodge, is not merely a historical parallel or coincidental resemblance between two people or events. Rather, a type is a “designed resemblance—the one being intended to prefigure or to commemorate the other.” This is the sense in which Adam prefigures or anticipates Christ. And therefore, “The resemblance between them was not casual. It was predetermined, and entered into the whole plan of God. As Adam was the head and representative of his race, whose destiny was suspended on his conduct, so Christ is the head and representative of his people.” Christ was, according to Hodge, the last Adam (1 Cor. 15:45) and the promises that were made in him dealt with the “world or age to come.”31 Hodge notes the link between God’s “predetermined” ordination of Adam as a type, who foreshadows the last Adam, and the world to come, or the eschaton. He does not explicitly make the point but two considerations confirm that Hodge has the pactum salutis in view in his comments on Romans 5. First, Hodge invokes the ideas of design, predetermination, and plan of God, all of which fall under the category of, “The Plan of Salvation is a Covenant,” the heading under which Hodge treats the pactum. Second, Hodge invokes Romans 5:12–21 as 29 Charles Hodge, Ephesians (1856; Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1991), 9. 30 Hodge, Systematic Theology, II:360. 31 Charles Hodge, Romans (1835; Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1989), 162.

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exegetical evidence of the existence of the pactum in his Systematic Theology. This means that Hodge believed Romans 5:14 was a comparison between the pactum and the covenant of works, not the covenants of works and grace. When Paul identifies Adam as a type of the one to come, the text refers to the pactum salutis. Hodge’s reading of Romans 5:14 stands in contrast to other interpretations of the period. For example, Moses Stuart (1780–1852), a professor at Andover Theological Seminary, wrote a commentary on Romans, which Hodge reviewed.32 Stuart argues that Adam was a type of Christ, not in terms of design, which would point back to the pactum and more broadly to the decree. Stuart admits that by divine design and appointment God Adam foreshadowed Christ, but he was an “antithetic image of what Christ was to be.” Stuart believed Adam’s typological function was entirely antithetical and dissimilar. That is, Adam’s actions produced negative consequences, and this same pattern appears antithetically with Christ—his actions produced positive consequences. Stuart points the typology forward into redemptive history and not backwards into the intratrinitarian council.33 August Tholuck (1799–1877), Hodge’s mentor during his extended study in Europe, offered a similar interpretation.34 On the other hand, Presbyterian pastor Albert Barnes (1798–1870), who also wrote a commentary reviewed by Hodge, denies that Adam was “constituted or appointed a type of Christ, which would convey no intelligible idea.” Instead, argues Barnes, there was merely a resemblance between Adam and Christ: “It does not mean that the person of Adam was typical of Christ; but that between the results of his conduct and the work of Christ there may be instituted a comparison, there may be traced some resemblance.”35 In fact, Barnes specifically rejects the idea that Adam was the federal head and representative of the human race, an idea necessitated by the pactum and Adam’s designed typical role.36 Romans 5:12–21 was an important text for Hodge’s doctrine of the pactum but he does not base his case upon this one text. Like the earlier tradition, which employed the analogia Scripturae, he maintains that the doctrine has “a much wider foundation.” Hodge elaborates: “When one person assigns a stipulated 32 Charles Hodge, “Stuart on Romans,” Biblical Repertory and Princeton Review 15/2 (1843): 293–332. 33 Moses Stuart, A Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans (Andover: Warren F. Draper, 1854), 233–36. 34 August Tholuck, Exposition of St. Paul’s Epistle to the Romans, trans. Robert Menzies (Philadelphia: Sorin and Ball, 1844), 166. 35 Albert Barnes, Notes, Explanatory and Practical, on the Epistle to the Romans (New York: Leavitt, Lord, & Co., 1834), 120; cf. Charles Hodge, “Review of Notes, Explanatory and Practical, on the Epistle to the Romans,” Biblical Repertory and Theological Review 7/2 (1835): 285–340. 36 Barnes, Romans, 120–21.

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work to another person with the promise of a reward upon the condition of the performance of that work, there is a covenant.”37 With this broad net (the parties, promise, and condition), Hodge fans out into the rest of Scripture to demonstrate that God gave work to Christ and that his Son consented and performed the work (Psa. 40; Heb. 10:10; John 17:4; Luke 2:49; John 17:18; Gal. 4:4; 1 John 4:9–10). Hodge does make an interesting concession, however, one that further mitigates the claims of his supposed rationalism: “This may appear as an anthropological mode of representing a transaction between the persons of the adorable Trinity. But it must be received as a substantial truth.” That is, Hodge willingly concedes that the intra-trinitarian activity should only be described in anthropopathic terms and that covenant may not be the most accurate description. Nevertheless, Hodge affirms what he believes is irrefutable, namely, that the Father gave his Son a work to perform and promised him a reward upon its completion, and such a transaction bears the nature of a covenant.38 Hodge divides his subsequent treatment of the pactum into two categories: the work assigned and the promises made to Christ. Under the work assigned, Hodge identifies three things: (1) become incarnate as a man, (2) be born under the law to fulfill it, and (3) bear the sins of the elect. Hodge lists eight things that were promised to Christ in the pactum, namely, that God would: (1) prepare a body for him, (2) give him the Spirit without measure, (3) support and comfort him, (4) deliver him from the power of death, (5) give to him the Spirit to give to whomever he chose to apply the work of redemption, (6) give to him the elect, (7) give to him an innumerable host of redeemed sinners that would constitute his kingdom, one that embraced all of the nations, and (8) see his “holy intelligences” and perfections manifest in Christ and the church throughout all of eternity. In these eight things Christ would “see the travail of his soul and be satisfied” (cf. Isa. 53:11).39 These are the elements of the pactum and constitute the substance of the covenant between the Father and Son, which creates a foundation for the covenant of grace, between God and elect sinners.40

5.4

Epistemology

At first glance raising the issue of epistemology in relation to Hodge’s doctrine of the pactum might seem like a non sequitur on two counts: (1) Hodge and the Princetonians were well known for their rationalism; and (2) the pactum does not 37 38 39 40

Hodge, Systematic Theology, II:360. Hodge, Systematic Theology, II:361. Hodge, Systematic Theology, II:362. Hodge, Systematic Theology, II:363.

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appear to be directly related to the subject. Mark Noll, for example, has noted that Witherspoon set aside the Augustinian distrust of fallen human reason that had long-marked the Reformed tradition and instead embraced an optimistic view of what unaided human reason could do vis-à-vis the material, natural, and moral order of the creation.41 Furthermore, does not the pactum deal primarily with matters pertaining to soteriology rather than epistemology? As common as some of these assumptions might be, there are important connections between Hodge’s doctrine of the pactum and epistemology that merit consideration. If one reads Hodge’s treatment of the pactum in isolation, he might conclude that it functions almost exclusively as a part of his soteriology. But how does the pactum function within the broader scope of Hodge’s system? To answer this question we must explore matters related to prolegomena, revelation, and anthropology, which at first may seem far afield, but their relevance will become manifest in due course. In the examination of his epistemology is where matters of Hodge’s intellectual context become profoundly relevant. As noted above, Scottish realism had a dominant place at Old Princeton. The Princetonians were insistent upon the reality of matter and causation and upon the reliability of the natural senses, or the ability of people to perceive reality around them. This last point, the reliability of the senses, is the typical locus where critics identify a serious miscalculation. Cornelius Van Til (1895–1987), for example, takes Hodge to task on this point because Hodge supposedly subjected the Scriptures to the judgment of autonomous reason. Van Til rightly identifies Hodge’s definition of reason, which is “those laws of belief which God has implanted in our nature.” Van Til agrees that God has indeed written such laws upon the heart of every human being. Nevertheless he claims: “But the unbeliever does not accept the doctrine of his creation in the image of God. It is therefore impossible to appeal to the in41 Noll, Princeton and the Republic, 43. Noll notes the research of Norman Fiering, who cites Witherspoon’s lectures on moral philosophy (cf. Norman Fiering, Moral Philosophy at Seventeenth-Century Harvard: A Discipline in Transition [Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1981], 43; John Witherspoon, Lectures on Moral Philosophy [Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1912], 140–41). In context, however, Witherspoon seems to advocate a point more fully developed by Hodge: “Yet perhaps a time may come when men, treating moral philosophy as Newton and his successors have done, natural, may arrive at greater precision. It is always safer in our reasonings to trace facts upwards, than to reason downwards upon metaphysical principles” (Witherspoon, Lectures on Moral Philosophy, 140). Witherspoon believed that moral philosophy was ultimately derived from God, not autonomous human reason. Witherspoon writes, for example, that real virtue was founded upon the authority of God and that “there is nothing certain or valuable in moral philosophy, but what is perfectly coincident with the scripture” (Witherspoon, Lectures on Moral Philosophy, 141). Cf. D. G. Hart, “Princeton and the Law: Enlightened and Reformed,” in The Law is Not of Faith: Essays on Works and Grace in the Mosaic Covenant, eds. Bryan D. Estelle, J. V. Fesko, David VanDrunen (Phillipsburg: P & R, 2009), 44–75.

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tellectual and moral nature of men, as men themselves interpret this nature, and say that it must judge the credibility and evidence of revelation. For if this is done, we are virtually telling the natural man to accept just so much and no more of Christianity as, with his perverted concept of human nature, he cares to accept.”42 To put it mildly, Van Til has misunderstood Hodge’s point and one of the reasons he has done so is his failure to consider the relationship between epistemology and the pactum in Hodge’s thought. Hodge’s prolegomena provides the necessary starting point to demonstrate the connections between his epistemology and the pactum. Many perceived the rationalism in Hodge’s theology in his famous quote about the inductive nature of theologian’s task: “The Bible is to the theologian what nature is to the man of science. It is his store-house of facts; and his method of ascertaining what the Bible teaches, is the same as that which the natural philosopher adopts to ascertain what nature teaches.”43 This smoking gun has been all the evidence some have needed to convict Hodge and the Princetonians of rationalism and of the crime of reducing the Bible to a series of timeless doctrinal propositions.44 But as with all statements, Hodge’s claim has a context, both historical and theological. Hodge observed the pressure exerted from both rationalism on the one side and mysticism on the other throughout history. To rationalists, such as Hume, reason, not revelation, was the norm. The disciples of Friedrich Schleiermacher (1768–1834) sought to evade the claims of rationalism by retreating to subjectivism. One such theologian, John Daniel Morell (1816–1891), an English congregational minister, explicitly rejected Hodge’s Baconian-influenced inductive approach to theology: “It has been a very extended notion, since the prevalence of the Baconian method in scientific research, that just as the facts of natural science lie before us in the universe, and have to be generalized and systematized by the process of induction, so also the facts of theology lying before us in the Bible have simply to be moulded into a logical series, in order to create a Christian theology.”45 Morell rejected this inductive approach as “radi42 Cornelius Van Til, The Defense of the Faith (1955; Phillipsburg: P & R, 1967), 81; cf. Hodge, Systematic Theology, I:50. 43 Hodge, Systematic Theology, I:10. 44 Jack B. Rogers and Donald K. McKim, The Authority and Interpretation of the Bible: An Historical Approach (1979; Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 1999), 289–98; Donald G. Bloesch, A Theology of Word and Spirit: Authority and Method in Theology (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1992), 253; John C. Vander Stelt, Philosophy and Scripture: A Study in Old Princeton and Westminster Theology (New Jersey: Mack Publishing, 1978), 271–82; Stanley J. Grenz and John R. Franke, Beyond Foundationalism: Shaping Theology in a Postmodern Context (Louisville: WJK, 2001), 61–62; John R. Franke, The Character of Theology: A Postconservative Approach (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2005), 88–89. 45 John Daniel Morell, The Philosophy of Religion (London: Longman, Brown, Green, and Longmans, 1849), 209; Bozeman, Age of Science, 144.

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cally and totally unsound” because it would require the theologian to affirm the verbal inspiration of Scripture, “a doctrine highly necessary to the above theory.” Moreover, it also embraced the “literal induction of the words,” when the preferable approach was to meditate upon “the spiritual sense we attach to them, upon the religious intuitions they may serve to express—in a word, upon the whole state of the religious consciousness of the interpreter.”46 Theologically, Hodge’s Baconian inductive approach did not reduce the Scriptures to a series of propositional truths, and he did not ascribe all-seeing and knowing power to human reason. Instead, scriptural induction irrefragably connected the theological enterprise to divine revelation. And for Hodge, only a heart touched by the power of the Holy Spirit could grasp the truth of Scripture.47 This is a point Hodge regularly makes in his prolegomena, which is the fruit of his scriptural induction, not speculative reason. “If they,” the Scriptures, “teach that men cannot repent, believe, or do anything spiritually good, without the supernatural aid of the Holy Spirit, we must make our theory of moral obligation accord with that fact.” Again, “All saving faith rests on his [the Holy Spirit’s] testimony or demonstrations.” For Hodge, induction was not a foreign philosophical imposition upon the Scriptures but rather the necessary principle that, evidence, in this case exegesis, must govern theological conclusions: “Theory must be determined by facts, and not facts by theory.” Additionally, when the Spirit convicts a person of his sin and impresses scriptural truth upon his heart, the Scriptures reveal the objective truths pressed by the Spirit.48 What primary truth does Scripture convey? “The Scriptures teach that Christ’s death was designed to reveal the love of God, and to secure the reformation of man.”49 With the invocation of the term designed, Hodge alludes to the divine plan, which as I have argued above, points to the pactum salutis. The pactum is certainly the “place” where the triune God planned redemption, but key to Hodge’s prolegomena and his doctrine of revelation is that Christ’s death, an essential component of the pactum, was designed to reveal God’s love. The pactum is not merely the plan for redemption but it also requires and is the fountain of divine revelation. For Hodge the pactum is the origin of both the creation of humanity in God’s image as well as the Son’s incarnation, which have revelatory functions. God supremely reveals himself in Christ but also reveals himself in the creation of human beings who are made in his image. Creation in the image of God and God’s self-disclosure in Christ is not bald common sense realism.

46 John Daniel Morell, On the Philosophical Tendencies of the Age (London: John Johnstone, 1848), 90–91. 47 Hodge, Systematic Theology, I:11. 48 Hodge, Systematic Theology, I:14–15. 49 Hodge, Systematic Theology, I:12, emphasis added.

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Hodge contended that the works of God demonstrated that his own nature is similar to human nature. Whatever attributes appear in the “effect,” can in some sense be traced back to the cause.50 More specifically, Hodge argues: “The revelation made of the nature of God in the external world, authenticates the revelation of himself which he has made in the constitution of our own being. In other words, it proves that the image of himself, which he has enstamped on our nature is a true likeness.”51 Human beings can know God because they have been made in his image—they have been designed with the capacity to receive revelation. This revelation comes both in nature, which means it is present in humanity’s identity as God’s image-bearers, but chiefly appears in Christ: God has revealed himself to us in the person of his Son. No man knoweth the Father, but the Son, and he to whom the Son shall reveal him. Jesus Christ is the true God. The revelation which he made of himself while on earth, was the manifestation of God in the flesh. He and the Father are one. The words of Christ are the words of God. The love, mercy, tenderness, and forgiving grace, as well as the holiness, severity, and power manifested by Christ, were manifestations of the nature of God. We see, therefore, with our eyes what God is. We know that, although infinite and absolute, he can think, act, and will; that He can love and hate; that He can hear prayer and forgive sin; that we can have fellowship with him as one person can commune with another.52

Hodge locates the pinnacle of God’s self-disclosure in the incarnation of Christ, which means not only that God designs humanity with the capacity to receive revelation, but also that this design is irrefragably connected to the incarnation of Christ. The connections between anthropology, christology, revelation, and epistemology find their genesis in the pactum. Hodge even goes so far as to highlight fallen humanity’s natural inability to know God as he discloses himself in Christ: “Philosophy must veil her face and seal her lips in the presence of God thus manifest in the flesh, and not pretend to declare that he is not, or is not known to be, what he has just revealed himself as being.”53 For Hodge, “This doctrine concerning the nature of God, as the object of certain and true knowledge, lies at the foundation of all religion.”54 The pactum therefore links revelation to salvation, and more specifically to the incarnation and creation of humanity. Image-bearers have the God-given capacity to receive revelation, but in a sin-fallen world, they require the sovereign work of the Spirit to open their eyes so that they may see God in Christ and believe.

50 Charles Hodge, “Can God Be Known?” Biblical Repertory and Princeton Review 36/1 (1864), 150. 51 Hodge, “Can God Be Known?” 151. 52 Hodge, “Can God Be Known?” 152. 53 Hodge, Systematic Theology, I:345. 54 Hodge, “Can God Be Known?” 152.

Justification and Soteriology

5.5

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Justification and Soteriology

5.5.1 Union with Christ Theological epistemology, or the ability to know, receive, and comprehend revelation, naturally leads to matters pertaining to soteriology. Hodge, like his Reformed forbearers, focuses upon the categories of the pactum, union with Christ and justification. In line with earlier Reformed formulations, Hodge maintains that union with Christ is the chief means by which people receive the benefits of redemption. Contrary to recent claims, the doctrine of union with Christ was not eclipsed by Hodge’s doctrine of justification. References to union with Christ abound throughout Hodge’s exegetical, theological, homiletical, and practical works. For example, in a sermon entitled, “The Unity of the Church Based on Personal Union with Christ,” Hodge states: “There is no doctrine of the Bible, more clearly, frequently, or variously taught than this [union with Christ].”55 In his Romans commentary Hodge affirms that union with Christ is the only source of the believer’s holiness.56 And cursory readings of Hodge’s Systematic Theology and his commentary on Ephesians (esp. 5:25–32) effortlessly reveal that union did not suffer eclipse in Hodge’s theology.57 The doctrine also repeatedly appears in one of Hodge’s earliest works, The Way of Life (1841), a basic introductory book on salvation and the Christian life, as well as in his Princeton afternoon “conference” devotionals, or homilies.58 In fact, Hodge links his religious epistemology to union with Christ: “The divine life can neither be obtained nor continued by any mere efforts of reason or conscience, or by any superstitious observances, but flows from our union with Christ, who causes his Holy Spirit to dwell in all his members.”59 In matters pertaining to soteriology, Hodge writes: “We are justified by his righteousness only because we are united to him, but if united to him, we are partakers of his life; and if partakers of his life, we 55 Charles Hodge, “The Unity of the Church Based on Personal Union with Christ,” in History, Essays, Orations and Other Documents of the Sixth General Conference of the Evangelical Alliance, ed. Philip Schaff and Irenaeus Prime (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1874), sect. II, 139–44. 56 Charles Hodge, A Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans (New York: Robert Carter & Brothers, 1880), 139. 57 Contra Robert Letham, Union with Christ: In Scripture, History, and Theology (Phillipsburg: P & R, 2011), 122; William B. Evans, Imputation and Impartation: Union with Christ in American Reformed Theology (Eugene: Paternoster, 2008), 187–228; cf. Hodge, Systematic Theology, II:581, III:104, 127, 227; idem, Ephesians, 289–354, esp., e. g., 289, 308, 315, 316. 58 Charles Hodge, The Way of Life, in Charles Hodge: The Way of Life, ed. Mark Noll (1841; New York: Paulist Press, 1987), 128–29, 138–39, 150, 152, 188, 222–23, 223, 225, 226, 232; idem, Princeton Sermons: Outlines of Discourses Doctrinal and Practical (1879; Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 2011), 146–50, 213, 234–35, 306. 59 Hodge, Way of Life, 232.

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live as he lives.”60 “The secret of holy living,” contends Hodge, “lies in this doctrine of the union of the believer with Christ.”61 So Hodge undoubtedly affirms the doctrine of union with Christ, but he very carefully explains its nature. The moment a person believes he is in union with Christ by faith.62 Faith, argues Hodge, is the bond of our union with Christ: “Faith has this important agency because it is the bond of our union with Christ. It not only gives us the right to plead his merits for our justification, but it makes us partakers of his Holy Spirit.” By faith believers “are made partakers of the divine nature.”63 Hodge maintains this point in his Systematic Theology when he argues that the first effect of faith is union with Christ, but he also mentions a federal union that precedes the believer’s reception of Christ at the moment of faith.64 This federal union is founded upon the pactum salutis.65 Hodge has a detailed explanation of the nature of this federal union in an essay entitled, “The First and Second Adam.” He presents four points that link the federal union, the pactum, and justification: (1) God constitutes Christ the federal head and representative of his people—in this sense the elect are united to Christ before the foundation of the world; (2) God promised Christ the reward in the pactum of the justification, sanctification, and eternal salvation of the elect; (3) the judicial ground of the believer’s justification, therefore, is not their own righteousness or their holy nature derived from Christ in their sanctification, but Christ’s obedience and sufferings, which becomes theirs by virtue of the covenant and God’s gracious imputation; and (4) because of the federal union, believers are both justified by Christ’s righteousness and sanctified by the Spirit.66 In one of his Sunday conferences, Hodge calls these two unions the federal (or covenant) and spiritual unions. By this distinction Hodge delineates between the forensic and transformative categories in his soteriology.67 Justification is a forensic or legal act based upon a righteousness that does not subjectively belong to the believer, whereas sanctification is an efficient work of God by the power of the

60 61 62 63 64

Hodge, Princeton Sermons, 146. Hodge, Way of Life, 226. Hodge, Way of Life, 152. Hodge, Way of Life, 226–27. Hodge seems at ease with this affirmation, namely that faith brings a person into union with Christ, but his son was more eager to explain the precise relationship between regeneration, faith, and union with (A. A. Hodge, “The Ordo Salutis; or, Relation in the Order of Nature of Holy Character and Divine Favor,” Princeton Review 49/1 [1878]: 304–21). 65 Hodge, Systematic Theology, III:104. 66 Charles Hodge, “The First and Second Adam,” Biblical Repertory and Princeton Review 32 (1860): 341. 67 Hodge, Princeton Sermons, 143.

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Spirit where he renovates the corrupted nature of man and restores his own image in him.68 Elsewhere in his Systematic Theology Hodge offers a slightly different presentation where he states that union with Christ is mystical, supernatural, representative, and vital. Hodge offers a rapid-fire description with scriptural texts to support it. The elect are united to Christ before the foundation of the world (Eph. 1:4) and are in him as they were in Adam (Rom. 5:12, 21; 1 Cor. 15:22). Believers are united to Christ as members of his body, of which he is the head (Eph. 1:23; 4:16; 1 Cor. 12:12, 27), and branches on the vine ( John 15:1–12). But believers also benefit from Christ’s death and resurrection, in that they were both crucified and raised with him (Gal. 2:20; Rom. 6:1–8).69 The existence of these two unions, the federal (or covenant) and spiritual, raise two questions in comparison to the formulations of John Gill and Jonathan Edwards. As discussed in the previous chapter, John Gill moved the doctrine of justification into the work of the immanent trinity and therefore denied the instrumentality of faith.70 And Jonathan Edwards likewise denied faith’s instrumental role in justification, but in contrast to Gill spread out justification throughout the believer’s life, culminating at the final judgment.71 How does Hodge compare to Gill and Edwards on the relationship between the pactum and the timing of justification and on faith as the instrumental cause of justification?

5.5.2 The timing of justification Hodge does not offer much reflection upon the timing of justification. Perhaps he was unaware of Gill’s formulation; the index to his Systematic Theology does not have an entry for Gill. On the other hand, Hodge was likely familiar with earlier formulations given his interaction and citation of Witsius and Turretin. Witsius distinguishes between active and passive justification to denote the difference between God’s imputation of Christ’s righteousness in the eternal pactum and its passive reception by faith in time.72 Turretin also allows for this 68 Hodge, “First and Second Adam,” 341. 69 Hodge, Systematic Theology, III:127. 70 See, e. g., John Gill, A Complete Body of Doctrinal and Practical Divinity: or A System of Evangelical Truths (1809; Paris, AR: The Baptist Standard Bearer, Inc., 2007), II.iv–v (pp. 199– 205). 71 See, e. g., Jonathan Edwards, “Justification by Faith Alone,” in The Works of Jonathan Edwards: Sermons and Discourses 1734–38, vol. 19, ed. M. X. Lesser (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2001),168; cf. idem, “‘Controversies’: Justification,” in The Works of Jonathan Edwards, vol. 21, ed. Sang Hyun Lee (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2003), 338. 72 Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, II.vii.16.

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distinction.73 This type of delineation appears in the work of Samuel Willard (1640–1707), an American colonial congregational theologian, and one to whom Hodge was likely exposed in his theological education. On the pactum in general, Willard expresses the same reticence as Hodge about dogmatically calling the Father and Son’s pre-temporal interaction a covenant. He says the intra-trinitarian interaction at this point is “analogically called a covenant.”74 But unlike Hodge, Willard promotes the idea that the Father and Holy Spirit are the contracting parties on one side and Christ on the other.75 Willard has a trinitarian pactum and Hodge promotes a christological model. So there are some differences between the two. Other differences emerge concerning explaining the timing of imputation. Willard introduces three moments of imputation. He argues that Christ’s righteousness was first given in the pactum salutis when the Father gave the elect to the Son. A second moment of justification occurs at Christ’s resurrection in his own solemn act of justification (Rom. 4:25). But there is a third moment of justification, according to Willard, because the elect still lie under a state of condemnation and sin and have not personally received the application of redemption. The elect, therefore, do not actually receive Christ’s imputed righteousness until they are justified.76 Willard’s threefold distinction echoes earlier formulations, such as those offered by William Ames (1576–1633) and Thomas Goodwin (1600–80).77 Willard would have been familiar with Ames’s Marrow of Theology, a text at Harvard, from which Willard graduated and where he eventually served as president.78 So the likely scenario is that Hodge was aware of these distinctions, whether from Witsius, or his probable access to American colonial works like those of Willard. But for unknown reasons, Hodge chose not to address the issue directly. In contrast, his mentor, Archibald Alexander, does address it.79 Perhaps because of his commitment to the Westminster Standards, Hodge does not employ the common scholastic distinction between active and passive justification. The 73 Turretin, Institutes, XVI.ix.11. 74 Samuel Willard, A Compleat Body of Divinity in Two Hundred and Fifty Expository Lectures on the Assembly’s Shorter Catechism, 2 vols. (Boston: B. Eliot and D. Henchman, 1726), serm. LXXVII (vol. I, p. 276). 75 Willard, Body of Divinity, serm. LXXVII (vol. I, p. 277); cf. idem, The Doctrine of the Covenant of Redemption (Boston: Benjamin Harris, 1693), 41. 76 Samuel Willard, A Brief Discourse of Justification (Boston: Samuel Phillips, 1686), 69–71. 77 William Ames, The Marrow of Theology, trans. John Eusden Dykstra (1968; Grand Rapids: Baker, 1997), I.xxvii.3; Thomas Goodwin, The Objects and Acts of Justifying Faith, in The Works of Thomas Goodwin (1861–64; Eureka: Tanski Publications, 1996), I.xv (pp. 135–37). 78 Ernest Benson Lowrie, The Shape of the Puritan Mind: The Thought of Samuel Willard (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1974). 79 Archibald Alexander, A Treatise on Justification by Faith (Philadelphia: Presbyterian Tract and Sunday School Society, 1837), 45–46.

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Westminster Standards, for example, merely state: “God did, from all eternity, decree to justifie all the elect, and Christ did, in the fullnesse of time, die for their sins, and rise again for their justification: neverthelesse, they are not justified, until the holy Spirit doth, in due time, actually apply Christ unto them” (XI.iv).80 After his brief statement on the covenant of redemption, Hodge offers the following caveat along these lines: “But it was also, as we learn from the Scriptures, included in the stipulations of that covenant, that his people, so far as adults are concerned, should not receive the saving benefits of that covenant until they were united to Him by a voluntary act of faith.”81 Imputation requires the presence of faith in the believer before he can receive Christ’s righteousness.82 According to Hodge, elect but unconverted sinners are under a state of condemnation until they believe and consummate their union by faith. For Hodge, no one can be justified until they are united to Christ by faith.83 Hodge, therefore, would reject Gill’s formulation.

5.5.3 Justification and the final judgment On the other side of the coin, despite the fact that he favorably cites Edwards at several points, Hodge does not have any reference to the completion of justification at the final judgment. He does not construct his doctrine so that justification is a continual, ongoing process. Hodge draws attention to the two-stage justification of the Roman Catholic Church and rejects it. The first justification, according to Roman Catholic theology, is gratuitous and is given for Christ’s sake and consists of the infusion of habitual grace. This divine process renders the person subjectively holy and righteous. The second justification is based upon good works, which are the fruit of sanctification. But Hodge asks how our good works can stand the test of divine scrutiny and somehow secure eternal life. Are they not defiled by sin? Hodge then reiterates the implications of the ground of justification, Christ’s righteousness: “It is not what is within us, but what is without us; not what we are or do, but what Christ is and has done, that is the ground of confidence and of our title to eternal life.”84 For Hodge, like his Reformed predecessors, the imputed righteousness of Christ secured the right and title to eternal life.85 The fact that Christ’s work secures heaven for the 80 The Westminster Standards: An Original Facsimile (1648; Audubon: Old Paths Publications, 1997). 81 Hodge, Systematic Theology, III:104. 82 Hodge, Systematic Theology, III:171. 83 Hodge, Systematic Theology, III:104; cf. III:159. 84 Hodge, Systematic Theology, III:131. 85 Hodge, Systematic Theology, III:164

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believer is an outworking of the pactum salutis because heaven, according to Hodge, “is always represented as a purchased possession.”86 In his rejection of a twofold justification, Hodge seems to echo the same points raised by his revered professor, Archibald Alexander.87 If eternal life would somehow hinge upon the believer’s sanctification, it would then become the “proximate cause and ground” of justification.88 Hodge does not minimize the importance and consequent necessity of sanctification, which is evident from his belief that in union with Christ believers receive justification, sanctification, and ultimately glorification.89 But he does posit a certain one-way relationship between justification and sanctification: “We are justified in order that we may be sanctified.”90 We are not sanctified in order that we might be justified. Rather, “We are accepted, justified, and saved, not for what we are, but for what He has done in our behalf.” A person’s sins are the judicial ground of his condemnation and the righteousness of Christ is the sole legal basis of his justification. For Hodge, Christ’s role as covenant surety constitutes the foundation of his imputed righteousness. In the end, Hodge stands on this position and the pactum because this is what the revelation of God teaches.91 What Hodge may not examine in his Systematic Theology, he explores at length in his exegesis. In his commentary on Ephesians, for example, Hodge explains that 2:8–10 affirms: “Salvation is by faith, i. e. by simply receiving or apprehending the offered blessing. From the very nature of faith, as an act of assent and trust, it excludes the idea of merit… . Salvation is in no sense, and in no degree, of works.”92 Hodge offers similar comments on 2 Corinthians 5:10, “For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ; that every one may receive the things done in his body, according to that he hath done, whether it be good or bad.” For Hodge, Paul merely teaches that all people must make a judicial appearance before Christ where their true character is revealed before the court and the “secrets of the heart are to be the grounds of judgment.” The wicked deserve what they have earned, which is punishment. And the righteous will receive their reward, not as a matter of justice but of grace in accordance with the nature of the covenant of grace.93 Hodge rejects the idea of some theologians, “especially in Germany,” who argue that justification only brings forgiveness for 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93

Hodge, Systematic Theology, III:164. Alexander, Justification by Faith, 16–17. Hodge, Systematic Theology, III:157. Hodge, Way of Life, 128–29, 144–45, 150, 188, 222–23, 225; idem, Princeton Sermons, 143, 146– 47, 213, 306. Hodge, Systematic Theology, III:157. Hodge, Systematic Theology, III:157. Hodge, Ephesians, 77. Hodge, 1 & 2 Corinthians (1857–59; Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1994), 501–02.

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pre-conversion sins and nothing more. Rather, because of the continuous intercession of Christ and his imputed righteousness, and by virtue of union with Christ, the believer’s sins, past, present, and future are covered by the perpetual claim of mediator’s satisfaction.94 Another text that deserves brief mention is Romans 2:13, “For not the hearers of the law are just before God, but the doers of the law shall be justified.” Hodge recognizes that this verse deals with a forensic declaration based upon the character of the person under judgment, or evaluation. Those who are righteous in God’s sight, or are justified, have performed what the law requires. But Hodge explains that Paul does not discuss the justification that is available to sinners. This is not a statement that reveals an as-of-yet future justification for believers. Rather, Paul treats “the principles of justice which will be applied to all who look to the law for justification. If men rely on works, they must have works; they must be doers of the law; they must satisfy its demands, if they are to be justified by it.”95 On the question, therefore, regarding the timing of justification, Hodge would reject Gill’s position, which moves justification into the immanent trinity, and he would reject Edwards’s view that stretches justification into a process that culminates at the final judgment. Hodge was educated by Alexander, who rejects both Gill’s and Edwards’s ideas. Alexander writes: “Some strenuously insist that justification is from eternity, thus confounding it with election, or the purpose to justify; others are equally confident, that there can be no proper justification until after our account is rendered at the day of judgment.” Alexander calls these positions “unscriptural.” Instead of these views Alexander echoes the Westminster Shorter Catechism, namely, that believers will be “openly acknowledged and acquitted in the day of judgment” (q. 38). Alexander writes: “At the day of judgment, there will be a public manifestation of their being the disciples of Christ and the servants of God, by bringing to view before the assembled universe all their works of piety, justice, and mercy.”96 According to Hodge, and his former professor, open acknowledgement and acquittal is not, then, a second justification, or the culmination of a two-staged process.

94 Hodge, 1 & 2 Corinthians, 502–03. 95 Hodge, Romans, 54. 96 Cf. Alexander, Justification by Faith, 46.

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5.5.4 Faith as the instrument of justification On the question of the instrumentality of faith Hodge once again takes a traditional stance. Both Gill and Edwards rejected the idea of instrumental causality of faith, the former doing so to eliminate any potential human claim of contributing to justification, and the latter because of his denial of secondary causality. Hodge, as a so-called child of the Enlightenment and a supposed rationalist, might be expected to follow a similar path. But Hodge was confessional and above all else exegetical. One of the things that marks his Systematic Theology is the continual appeal to the Reformation’s confessional corpus as well as past Reformed theologians. In his chapter on justification Hodge appeals to the Westminster Confession (1647), the Heidelberg Catechism (1563), the Second Helvetic Confession (1566), and Lutheran symbols such as the Formula Concord (1576) and the Apology for the Augsburg Confession (1530). Hodge also positively invokes the names, among others, of Lutheran theologians Martin Luther (1483–1546), Theodore Hase (1682–1731), Johann Andreas Quenstedt (1617–88), and Heinrich Schmid (1811–85), and Reformed theologians such as Turretin, Witsius, Jonathan Edwards, John Calvin (1509–64), Campegius Vitringa (1659–1722), John Owen (1616–83), and W. G. T. Shedd. But Hodge was no mere traditionalist; he was committed to a Baconian inductive approach to the discipline of theology, which means he was dedicated to deriving his doctrine from exegesis. In this regard Hodge affirms the instrumentality of faith because “we are constantly said to be justified by, or through faith.”97 Here Hodge appeals to the Greek prepositions διὰ and ἐκ as well as the fact that when the Greek word for faith (πίστις) occurs in the dative or genitive case, it denotes instrumentality or means.98 Hodge affirmed the instrumentality of faith, therefore, because he based his theological conclusion upon exegesis, whereas Gill rejected the idea out of theological prejudice and Edwards because of its philosophical obsolescence. Hodge, in contrast, upheld the instrumentality of faith because he believed that it preserved the objective ground of justification, the imputed active and passive obedience of Christ.99 Moreover, he was well aware of other opinions, such as the Remonstrant belief that faith was the ground of justification, not its instrument. On this point Hodge engages the views of Remonstrant theologian Philip van Limborch (1633–1712), who argued that faith was accepted as righteousness rather than the instrument

97 Hodge, Systematic Theology, III:170. 98 Hodge, Systematic Theology, III.169; cf. Daniel B. Wallace, Greek Grammar Beyond the Basics: An Exegetical Syntax of the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1996), 162–63, 368, 371. 99 Hodge, Systematic Theology, III:142–43, 170–71.

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by which the righteousness of Christ was received.100 Limborch’s Remonstrant view was not an outdated opinion, for some of Hodge’s contemporaries, such as Methodist theologian John Miley, also held the same position.101

5.6

Conclusion

Hodge’s doctrine of the pactum opens a number of windows into his system of theology. By virtue of the fact that the pactum incorporates multiple loci one can find a vista from which to see the connections between the covenant of redemption, revelation, anthropology, christology, and soteriology. But this chapter has also revealed that Hodge’s alleged crimes of rationalism are false given his claim that man was designed to receive revelation and that Christ is the pinnacle of God’s self-disclosure. Hodge and the Princetonians should not be faulted for their use of Scottish Common Sense Realism. Rather, in a world being rocked by rationalism and mysticism, Hodge and his colleagues sought to affirm the reliability of human perception and the capacity for divine revelation, not because they reached this conclusion by the powers of reason, but because God designed human beings in his image. Moreover, Scottish Realism was by no means the sole property of Princeton, but was spread throughout the nineteenth-century American theological scene. Southern Presbyterian theologians such as J. H. Thornwell (1812– 1862) embraced Scottish Realism. And these realist principles were even embedded in the Declaration of Independence, which trumpeted truths that were “self evident” and that people were “endowed by their Creator.”102 Hodge and other theologians of the period simply spoke the philosophical idiom of the day by which they affirmed the reliability of the senses, the reality of causality, and the necessity to base theology upon an inductive examination of the Scriptures. Hodge’s theology, if one might be critical, is guilty of being a theological sheep in wolf ’s clothing. Beneath the menacing fur and fearsome sharp teeth is a theological sheep that was fed by the pastures of the Westminster Assembly. His assertions and views are parallel with those of his early modern Reformed predecessors.

100 Hodge, Systematic Theology, III:192; cf. Philip van Limborch, Theologia Christiana, 4 vols. (Amsterdame: Henricus Wetstenius, 1686), VI.iv.18, 31, 32, 41 (vol. III, pp. 744, 746, 748). 101 Miley, Systematic Theology, II:314, 319–20. 102 David VanDrunen, Natural Law and the Two Kingdoms: A Study in the Development of Reformed Social Thought (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010), 268–74; Garry Wills, Inventing America: Jefferson’s Declaration of Independence (1978; Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 2002), 180–206.

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There are two other observations about Hodge’s doctrine of the pactum. First, for as much flak as Hodge receives for being a rationalist and promoting a cold, precise, scholastic system of timeless truths, this chapter has uncovered a different picture. In contrast to earlier presentations like those of Turretin and Witsius, Hodge’s own view is built for speed and efficiency, stripped down, as it were. For as much as he was indebted to Turretin, his own theology is terminologically unburdened and streamlined. Hodge does not employ distinctions of active and passive justification, for example, to account for the timing of justification. He simply asserts that believers are not justified until they are in spiritual union with Christ. Likewise, he only presents a twofold doctrine of union, federal (or covenantal) and spiritual, which is much simpler in comparison to earlier fourfold views (natural, legal, federal, and mystical) offered by the likes of Samuel Rutherford (1600–61).103 Second, in concert with his Reformed predecessors, Hodge affirmed that the chief purpose of the pactum, revelation, and the incarnation, was the disclosure of God’s love for fallen sinners. Amidst the noisy din of claims of rationalism and scholasticism, many seem to miss the affective aspect in Hodge’s theology. In one of his Sunday conferences, Hodge explained to his students and colleagues: “The knowledge of Christ, therefore, is not the apprehension of what he is, simply by the intellect, but also a due apprehension of his glory as a divine person arrayed in our nature, and involves not as its consequence merely, but as one of its elements, the corresponding feeling of adoration, delight, desire, and complacency.”104 In his Way of Life, Hodge similarly writes: Love to God, however, is not mere complacency in moral excellence. It is the love of a personal being, who stands in the most intimate relations to ourselves, as the author of our existence, as our preserver and ruler, as our father, who with conscious love watches over us, protects us, supplies all our wants, holds communion with us, manifesting himself unto us as he does not unto the world.105

The supreme manifestation of God unto the elect is his self-disclosure in Christ, and this revelation and union between God and man was first conceived in the pactum.106 Moreover, the union of love between Christ and the elect is also the same bond that unites the church: “They are all united to him, and therefore are united to each other.”107 The pactum and everything that flows from it is ulti-

103 Samuel Rutherford, The Covenant of Life Opened, or, A Treatise of the Covenant of Grace (Edinburgh: Robert Broun, 1655), I.xxv (p. 208). 104 Hodge, Princeton Sermons, 214. 105 Hodge, Way of Life, 212. 106 Hodge, “Can God Be Known,” 152; idem, Systematic Theology, II:362. 107 Hodge, Princeton Sermons, 267.

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mately a manifestation of God’s love to his people. This hardly seems like the frigid laundry list of timeless propositional truths requiring intellectual assent. So despite the deconfessionalization trends that appeared in the eighteenth century, the nineteenth-century witnessed a revitalization of confessional Reformed theology. Hodge not only advocated the theology of the Reformation confessions, especially the Westminster Standards, but he exegetically grounded it. This confessional trend continued into the twentieth century, though this period certainly witnessed another episode of unique views associated with the pactum salutis. We turn now, therefore, to the twentieth century to examine the reception, promotion, and even denial of the covenant of redemption.

6.

Twentieth-Century Critics

6.1

Introduction

The charred and bloody battlefields of World War I (1914–18) hardly seem like a place to begin the investigation of the pactum salutis in the twentieth century, but there is certainly a connection between these geo-political events and the doctrine. In this case the earth-shattering events of World War I caused at least one theologian, Karl Barth (1886–1968), to reevaluate his theological convictions. In his reassessment, Barth moved away from liberalism and closer to Reformed orthodoxy, but he nevertheless rejected the pactum salutis, among other doctrines. The degree to which Barth influenced others is open for debate, and it is not my intention to draw a straight line of influence between Barth and other twentieth-century critics of the pactum. But Barth does share several similar characteristics with three other well-known critics of the pactum salutis, John Murray (1898–1975), Herman Hoeksema (1886–1965), and Klaas Schilder (1890– 1952). I suspect that the three aforementioned theologians would object to being included in a chapter with Barth as like-minded critics of the pactum salutis. My intention is not to argue they share the same theological convictions. Rather, my intention is to demonstrate that all four of these theologians, to a certain extent, shared the same basic convictions about the problems with the Reformed tradition. And as will be evident in the exposition to follow, all four come up with different solutions, though there is great similarity between Hoeksema and Schilder. Hence, the chapter will proceed with a survey of these four critics of the pactum salutis and briefly explore their alternative solutions. The chapter will then offer analysis to show the common shared elements and suggest reasons as to why they rejected the pactum.

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Twentieth-Century Critics

Critics of the pactum salutis

One of the key elements in the doctrine of the pactum salutis is the very idea of covenant. The definition of the term determines, by and large, to what extent one affirms or denies the pactum. Thus far in this survey of the pactum, it appears that, despite numerous formulations, theologians have agreed on the definition of covenant. At its most fundamental level a covenant is an agreement with stipulations and conditions.1 This basic definition holds from Martin Luther (1483–1546) all the way through Charles Hodge (1797–1878). The definition of a covenant was essentially a settled fact and, as the previous historical survey has revealed, established upon exegetical grounds. But the twentieth century witnessed significant reconsideration of this most fundamental definition.

1 Martin Luther, Galatians – 1519, comm. Gal. 5:18, LW 27:267–68; Augustin Marlorat, A Catholic Exposition Upon the Revelation of Saint John (London: Henrie Binneman, 1574), comm. Rev. 21:2 (p. 284); Lambert Daneau, A Fruitful Commentary Upon the Twelve Small Prophets (Cambridge: Universitie of Cambridge, 1594), comm. Amos 9:10 (p. 331); William Perkins, The whole treatise of the cases of conscience, distinguished into three bookes, in The Workes of that famous and worthy ministry of Christ, in the Universitie of Cambridge, Mr. William Perkins (London: John Legatt, 1617), II.i (p. 51); Giovanni Diodati, Pious Annotations Upon the Holy Bible (London: Nicolas Fussell, 1651), comm. Lev. 24:8; William Ames, The Marrow of Theology, trans. John Eusden Dykstra (1968; Grand Rapids: Baker, 1997), XXIV.xiv (p. 151); John Davenant, A Dissertation on the Death of Christ, in An Exposition of the Epistle of St. Paul to the Colossians (London: Hamilton, Adams, and Co., 1831), 364; John Preston, The New Covenant or The Saints Portion (London: Nicolas Bourne, 1639), 220; Edward Fisher, The Marrow of Modern Divinity (London: R. W. for G. Calvert, 1645), 35–36; Patrick Gillespie, The Ark of the Testament Opened, or, The secret of the Lords Covenant unsealed, in a Treatise of the Covenant of Grace. Part I (London: R. C., 1681), I.ii (pp. 49–51); Francis Roberts, Mysterium & medulla bibliorum. The Mysterie and Marrow of the Bible (London: George Calvert, 1657), III.iv (p. 857); Thomas Goodwin, An Exposition of the First, and Part of the Second Chapter, of the Epistle to the Ephesians, in The works of Thomas Goodwin, D. D. sometime president of Magdalen College in Oxford (London: T. G., 1681), serm. V (p. 63); Herman Witsius, Economy of the Covenants Between God and Man: Comprehending a Complete Body of Divinity, trans. William Crookshank (1822; Escondido: Den Dulk Foundation, 19990), II.ii.16; John Owen, “Exercitation XXVIII: Federal Transactions Between the Father and the Son,” in The Works of John Owen, vol. 19, ed. William H. Goold (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1862), 77; Benedict Pictet, Christian Theology, trans. Frederick Reyroux (London: R. B. Seeley and W. Burnside, 1834), XVII (p. 325); idem, Theologia Christiana (London: R. Baynes, 1820), VIII.xxiv.3 (p. 270); John Gill, A Complete Body of Doctrinal and Practical Divinity: or A System of Evangelical Truths (1809; Paris, AR: The Baptist Standard Bearer, Inc., 2007), II.xiv (p. 244); Jonathan Edwards, Misc. 1062, “Economy of the Trinity and Covenant of Redemption,” in The Works of Jonathan Edwards: The “Miscellanies” (Entry Nos. 833–1152), vol. 20, ed. Amy Plantinga Pauw (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2002), 431–32; Charles Hodge, Systematic Theology, 3 vols. (rep.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993), II:354–55.

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6.2.1 John Murray John Murray is undoubtedly associated with classic Reformed theology because not only was he educated at Princeton Seminary (1924–27) under the tutelage of Geerhardus Vos (1862–1949) and J. Gresham Machen (1881–1937), noted stalwarts of the Reformed tradition, but he also became Professor of Systematic Theology at Westminster Theological Seminary in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, an institution dedicated to the theological ethos of Old Princeton.2 Princeton Seminary, allegedly, was the institution where no new idea ever surfaced, which was not the badge of fundamentalism but rather the flag of unwavering commitment to the historic Reformed faith.3 Yet when it comes to the definition of a covenant, Murray was not averse to redefining one of the tradition’s most fundamental categories. Now in all fairness, one might argue that the term covenant is not formally defined in the Westminster Standards, which is true. But several elements in Murray’s theology send him in a very different direction from the earlier tradition, which centers most notably in his definition of covenant. In Murray’s treatment of Adam’s state in the garden, he maintains many of the traditional elements of the covenant of works: Adam acted in a public capacity, was required to be obedient to secure life, and stood in a representative relationship to his offspring. But Murray was not content to call these elements a covenant of works as the earlier tradition had done. Instead, Murray opted for the term “Adamic Administration,” because: (1) the term works did not account for “the elements of grace entering into the administration,” and (2) Scripture does not designate Adam’s state as a covenant. In a departure from earlier definitions of covenant as agreement, Murray argues: “Scripture always uses the term covenant, when applied to God’s administration to men, in reference to a provision that is redemptive or closely related to redemptive design. Covenant in Scripture denotes the oath-bound confirmation of promise and involves a security which the Adamic economy did not bestow.”4 Murray did not depart from earlier definitions in ignorance. In his brief treatise on the covenant of grace Murray notes that from the earliest days of the Reformation covenant theology operated with the idea that “a covenant is a compact or agreement between two parties.” Murray cites the work of Heinrich 2 See Iain Murray, The Life of John Murray (1984; Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 2007), 18–38; J. Gresham Machen, “Westminster Theological Seminary: Its Purpose and Plan,” in J. Gresham Machen: Selected Shorter Writings, ed. D. G. Hart (Phillipsburg: P & R, 2004), 187–194. 3 Charles Hodge, “Retrospect and the History of the Princeton Review,” The Biblical Repertory and Princeton Review, Index Volume (1825–68): 1–39; cf. A. A. Hodge, The Life of Charles Hodge (1880; Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 2010), 274–75. 4 John Murray, Collected Writings, vol. 2, Systematic Theology (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1977), 49.

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Bullinger (1504–75), Zacharias Ursinus (1534–83), John Preston (1587–1628), William Perkins (1558–1602), Petrus Van Mastricht (1630–1706), Francis Turretin (1623–87), and Herman Witsius (1636–1708).5 Murray even notes that Charles Hodge, W. G. T. Shedd (1820–94), and R. L. Dabney (1820–98), rely upon Witsius’s definition.6 The same breadth of familiarity with classical covenant theology appears in Murray’s essay on covenant theology, which is a historical survey of the Reformed tradition’s articulation of the doctrine of the covenants.7 But despite its wide attestation and unquestioned reception well into the nineteenth century, Murray turns to “more recent students of covenant theology” who disagree with the common definition. Murray cites recent scholarship, though two entries are most noteworthy. Murray quotes John Kelly, a nineteenthcentury Scottish theologian, who writes: “It [the term] does not properly signify a compact or agreement; there is another Greek word for this, never used for covenant.”8 Of more recent origin, Murray cites the analysis of Herman Ridderbos (1909–2007), who argues that the Septuagint translates the Hebrew term ‫ ברית‬as διαθήκη and never the more available word συνθήκη. The difference is that a διαθήκη is a one-sided grant and a συνθήκη is a contract between two parties.9 Murray takes this exegetical data and concludes that where the earlier tradition affirms the gracious and promissory character of divine covenants, they are in accord with the biblical data. In his estimation, “the promissory character of covenant cannot be over-accented.”10 Murray’s language is deft and irenic but stands out nonetheless. He rejects the earlier tradition’s definition. According to the Scotsman, biblical covenants between God and man are not mutual agreements. He drills down to the precise issue, at least in his mind, and asks whether “biblico-theological study will disclose that, in the usage of Scripture, covenant (berith in Hebrew and diatheke in Greek) may properly be interpreted in terms of a mutual pact or agreement.”11 In his analysis of the variegated biblical data, Murray concludes that when people make covenants among themselves, they are mutual agreements, but that such an arrangement by no means determines

5 John Murray, The Covenant of Grace: A Biblico-Theological Study (Phillipsburg: P & R, 1953), 5–7. 6 Murray, Covenant of Grace, 7 n. 15. 7 John Murray, “Covenant Theology,” in Collected Writings of John Murray, vol. 4, Studies in Theology (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1982), 216–40. 8 Murray, Covenant of Grace, 7 n. 15; cf. John Kelly, The Divine Covenants: their Nature and Design (London: 1861), 8; E. Hassan and J. M. Blackie, The Rev. John Kelly: A Memorial (London: George Philip & Son, 1876). 9 Murray, Covenant of Grace, 7 n. 15; cf. Herman Ridderbos, The Epistle of Paul to the Churches of Galatia, NICNT (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1953), 130–31 n. 2. 10 Murray, Covenant of Grace, 8. 11 Murray, Covenant of Grace, 8.

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covenant relationships between God and man.12 For Murray the paradigmatic covenant between God and man is the Noahic covenant, which is dispensed by God, universal in scope, unconditional, pervasively monergistic, and everlasting. “These features of the covenant,” argues Murray, “plainly evince that this covenant is a sovereign, divine administration, that it is such in its conception, determination, disclosure, confirmation, and fulfillment.” Moreover, “it is not conditioned by or dependent upon faith or obedience on the part of men.” Given this covenant’s definitive and normative characteristics, covenants between God and man can in no way or the least degree rest upon reciprocal obligation.13 If the Noahic covenant is paradigmatic and essentially presents a definition of a covenant, then Murray’s reluctance to designate Adam’s state in the garden as a covenant makes sense. Moreover, Murray’s rejection of the idea of republication, the idea that the Mosaic covenant was in part a “repetition of the so-called covenant of works, current among covenant theologians” also makes sense given his redefinition of covenant.14 Murray believed republication was a grave mis12 Murray, Covenant of Grace, 9. 13 Murray, Covenant of Grace, 12–15. 14 On the history and analysis of the idea see, Sebastian Rehnman, “Is the Narrative of Redemptive History Trichotomous or Dichotomous? A Problem for Federal Theology,” Nederlands Archief voor Kergeschiedenis 80 (2000): 296–308; Mark Jones, “The Old Covenant,” in Drawn into Controversie: Reformed Theological Diversity and Debates Within SeventeenthCentury British Puritanism, eds. Michael A. G. Haykin, Mark Jones (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2011), 183–203; Bryan Estelle, J. V. Fesko, David VanDrunen, eds., The Law is Not of Faith: Essays on Works and Grace in the Mosaic Covenant (Phillipsburg: P & R, 2009). For primary sources, see Amandus Polanus, The Substance of Christian Religion, Soundly Set Forth in Two Bookes (London: John Oxenbridge, 1595), 88; William Perkins, A Golden Chaine, XIX, in The Works of That Famous and Worthie Minister of Christ, in the Universite of Cambridge, M. W. Perkins (Cambridge: John Legat, 1603), 26; William Ames, The Marrow of Theology, trans. John Eusden Dykstra (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1997), XXXIX.ix (p. 206); Francis Turretin, Institutes of Elenctic Theology, trans. George Musgrave Giger, ed. James T. Dennison, Jr. (Phillipsburg: P & R, 1992–97), XII.vii.31–32; Leonard Rijssen, Compendium Theologiae X.x, quoted in Heinrich Heppe, Reformed Dogmatics: Set Out and Illustrated from the Sources, ed. Ernst Bizer, trans. G. T. Thomson (London: George Allen & Unwin Ltd., 1950), 399; idem, Compendium theologiae didactico-elencticae (Amsterdam: Georgium Gallet, 1695), X.x; Robert Rollock, A Treatise on God’s Effectual Calling, III, in Select Works of Robert Rollock, 2 vols., ed. William M. Gunn (1844–49; Grand Rapids: Reformation Heritage Books, 2008), I:46; Herman Witsius, Economy of the Covenants Between God and Man: Comprehending a Complete Body of Divinity, 2 vols. (rep.; Escondido: The den Dulk Foundation, 1990), IV.iv.47–49; Thomas Goodwin, The Work of the Holy Ghost in Our Salvation, VII.iv, in The Works of Thomas Goodwin, 12 vols. (1861–66; Eureka: Tanski Publications, 1996), 6:354; John Owen, Exposition of the Epistle to the Hebrews 8.1–10.39, in The Works of John Owen D. D., vol. 22 (London: Johnstone & Hunter, 1855), 85–86; Thomas Boston, ed., The Marrow of Modern Divinity by Edward Fisher (New York: Westminster Publishing House, n. d.), 63; John Colquhoun, A Treatise on the Law and Gospel (1835; Grand Rapids: Reformation Heritage Books, 2009), 59; James Buchanan, The Doctrine of Justification: An Outline of its History in the Church and of its Exposition from Scripture (1867; Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1991), 38–

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conception and involved an erroneous construction of the Mosaic covenant.15 But where his definition makes unexpected inroads is in his evaluation of the pactum salutis. As an adherent to Reformed theology Murray followed the well-worn path in affirming and promoting the doctrine of the decree, or more specifically, the plan of salvation. He believed that God designed salvation in the divine council—he planned its execution in time. Like his treatment of Adam’s state, Murray rehearses the common elements of God’s plan: he set his love upon men, decreed their salvation, and decreed to send his Son to save them.16 He also identifies three specific propositions concomitant with his exposition of the divine plan: (1) God’s election is the fountain from which salvation flows; (2) God’s electing love is sovereign and not determined by his foreknowledge; and (3) the process of salvation moves from election as the foundation to the glorification of the objects of his electing love.17 Then in his usual fashion Murray moves into the exegesis of Scripture, in this case Ephesians 1:3–14, Romans 8:28–30, and 2 Timothy 1:9.18 Noteworthy is that two of Murray’s texts, Ephesians 1:3–14 and 2 Timothy 1:9, were common proof-texts for the pactum salutis. In contrast to Murray, Hodge argued in his Ephesians commentary in favor of the pactum.19 Murray acknowledges that the ideas under consideration have been historically couched in covenantal terms where theologians have distinguished between the covenants of redemption and grace. Once again Murray offers an irenic observation that it is unnecessary to make an issue regarding terminology.20 These comments echo similar sentiments offered by both Charles and A. A. Hodge (1823–86) regarding the distinction between the two covenants.21 But unlike the Hodges, Murray makes a unique contribution: “But it may not be remiss to observe that the term ‘covenant’ in Scripture refers to temporal administration, and it is not strictly proper to use a biblical term to designate something to which it is not applied in the Scripture itself. For this reason it is not well, and is liable to be confusing, to

15 16 17 18 19 20 21

39; Robert Shaw, An Exposition of the Westminster Confession of Faith (1845; Fearn: Christian Focus Publications, 1998), 243; Louis Berkhof, Systematic Theology: New Combined Edition (rep.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996), 298; Charles Hodge, 1 & 2 Corinthians (1857, 59; Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1994), 432–34. Murray, “Adamic Administration,” 50. John Murray, “The Plan of Salvation,” in Collected Writings, vol. 2, Systematic Theology (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1977), 124. Murray, “Plan of Salvation,” 125. Murray, “Plan of Salvation,” 125–30. Charles Hodge, Ephesians (1856; Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1991), 9. Murray, “Plan of Salvation,” 130. Hodge, Systematic Theology, II:358; A. A. Hodge, Outlines of Theology (1860; Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1991), 369–70.

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speak of this economy in terms of covenant. I prefer some such designation as the inter-trinitarian [sic] economy of salvation.”22 Murray’s position is unique for three reasons. First, he makes the claim that covenant designates an exclusively temporal administration. This is surprising because he does not take the other common route by which theologians such as A. A. Hodge, Thomas Boston (1676–1732), and W. G. T. Shedd argue that the intra-trinitarian activity is the eternal pole of the covenant of grace.23 Murray was familiar with Boston’s view but did not follow this path.24 In Murray’s view intratrinitarian interaction regarding redemption is non-covenantal. He does not use the term, but it appears that Murray’s “intra-trinitarian economy of salvation,” is parallel to the older concept of the consilium Dei. Confirmation of this connection appears in his historical survey of covenant theology when he calls the intra-trinitarian deliberations the “Trinitarian counsel and economy of salvation.”25 Second, Murray objects to the use of a “biblical term to designate something to which it is not applied in the Scripture itself.” This appears to be an instance of Murray’s terminological positivism. That is, if the term does not explicitly appear, then the concept is absent from the biblical text. This methodology lies at the core of his rejection of the covenant of works—the term does not appear in the Genesis narrative, therefore God and Adam were not in covenant. Similarly, Murray does not believe the term appears in connection with the intra-trinitarian economy. But this begs the question, especially in the light of the survey of the history of the pactum in the previous chapters, Was Murray unaware of exegetical arguments from texts such as Psalm 2:7, Zechariah 6:13, Psalm 110:1, Hebrews 7:22, or Luke 22:29? Murray’s treatment on the plan of salvation is brief and undocumented—it is more of a popular than academic presentation. Nevertheless, his ample citation of earlier Reformed works in his treatment of the covenant of grace indicates that Murray was likely familiar with the exegetical history but unpersuaded by it. A survey of his essay on covenant theology supports this conclusion, as he has a section devoted to the pactum and cites Johannes Cocceius (1603–69), Van Mastricht, Samuel Rutherford (1600–61), Edward Leigh (1602–71), and Thomas Goodwin (1600–80).26

22 Murray, “Plan of Salvation,” 130. 23 Hodge, Outlines of Theology, 369–70; Thomas Boston, Body of Divinity, in The Complete Works of the Late Rev. Thomas Boston, vol. 1 (1853; Stoke-on-Trent: Tentmaker Publications, 2002), 333; W. G. T. Shedd, Dogmatic Theology, 3 vols. (1888; Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1969), II:360. 24 Murray, “Covenant Theology,” 237–38. 25 Murray, “Covenant Theology,” 234. 26 Murray, “Covenant Theology,” 234–38.

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Third, given Murray’s definition of the covenants between God and man, one can understand why he would reject the idea that Adam and God were in covenant. But when it comes to the triune God, there are three equal parties. Given Murray’s redefinition of the term, his rejection of the covenant of works and its republication at Sinai are understandable. But the unexpected move is his rejection of any pre-temporal intra-trinitarian covenantal activity. For Murray there is only one covenant, the covenant of grace. There is neither a covenant of redemption nor a covenant of works. Westminster divine Anthony Burgess, Cocceius, and Charles Hodge, argued that the mirror image of the pactum was the covenant of works. Deny one covenant and you will be more inclined to deny the other. This maxim proves true in the case of Murray.

6.2.2 Herman Hoeksema Herman Hoeksema was another Reformed theologian who declined to adopt the pactum salutis. Hoeksema acknowledged that the doctrine was almost universally affirmed during the seventeenth century, whether in its christological or trinitarian forms. But despite its popularity, Hoeksema contends that the doctrine was based upon a “somewhat weak and dubious” interpretation of Zechariah 6:13. He also notes other passages, such as Psalm 89:19, Luke 22:29, and Galatians 3:16–17. He contends that interpreters failed to recognize that these passages coincided with the covenant made with Abraham and his seed. In other words, they were made in time, not in eternity.27 Hoeksema then enters into a historical-theological survey of the doctrine and explores the views of Van Mastricht, Turretin, Wilhelmus á Brakel (1635–1711), Charles Hodge, Vos, Herman Bavinck (1854–1921), Louis Berkhof (1873–1957), and Abraham Kuyper (1837–1920).28 So like Murray, Hoeksema was familiar with the history, exegesis, and common formulations of the pactum. There are four reasons why Hoeksema rejects the pactum. First, he claims “much scholastic reasoning and subtle hairsplitting marked the doctrine,” though he notes that Bavinck tried to “avoid all scholastic hairsplitting and subtle sophistry that so often characterizes the definition and description of the pactum salutis.”29 Second, in reaction to Berkhof ’s formulation, Hoeksema contends that everything was decided about and for the Son and that the Spirit was excluded from these deliberations, which implies a denial of the doctrine of the trinity. 27 Herman Hoeksema, Reformed Dogmatics (1963; Grand Rapids: Reformed Free Publishing Association, 1985), 286–87. 28 Hoeksema, Reformed Dogmatics, 288–93. 29 Hoeksema, Reformed Dogmatics, 287, 292.

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Hoeksema, however, qualifies his remark that Berkhof did not intend to deny this cardinal doctrine. According to Hoeksema, related to Berkhof ’s implicit denial of the trinity is the implication that the Son is subordinate to the Father.30 Third, in a number of key pactum proof-texts, Hoeksema argues that proponents of the doctrine have misinterpreted them. For example, Psalm 2:7 refers to David in his capacity as king over Israel. When the text mentions, “Today I have begotten you,” there is a double-referent, (1) to the eternal generation of the Son, which is a necessary, not voluntary, act of God; and (2) to the resurrection of Christ. And so, Psalm 2 chiefly speaks of the human nature of Christ. When the text states, “Today,” it refers to the historical moment when David was anointed as king over Israel as well as Christ’s resurrection from the dead. “From all this it is evident,” writes Hoeksema, “that in the covenant to which Psalm 2 refers the Son appears as the Servant of the Lord according to His human nature, and that Psalm 2 does not refer to a covenant of the First person of the Trinity with the Son of God.”31 For Hoeksema, the bulk of the common proof-texts do not point backwards to eternity and the intra-trinitarian deliberations but to the temporal manifestation of Christ’s ministry. A fourth reason for his rejection of the pactum appears in the way he interprets several Johannine dialogues between the Father and the Son, such as John 6:38– 39, “For I have come down from heaven, not to do my own will but the will of him who sent me. And this is the will of him who sent me, that I should lose nothing of all that he has given me, but raise it up on the last day.” Hoeksema points out that theologians such as Bavinck cite this text to prove that the Father gave the Son a mission, and he sent him to carry it out.32 Hoeksema asks the question, “Is it possible to conceive of the eternal covenant relation between the Father and the Son in such a way that the First Person stands in this relation as the One that sends, and the Second as the One that is sent? And the answer to this question must certainly be negative.”33 Hoeksema objects on the basis that the one who sends must be in complete authority over the one who is sent, which means the latter is completely subordinate to the former. This is an unacceptable conclusion given the singular will of the triune God—the triune God eternally wills as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—and the equality of all three persons in the godhead: “Hence, in the counsel of God the Son cannot stand as the One that is sent in relation to the Father as the One that sends.”34 So how does Hoeksema account for the language of sending and being sent? He says we must never lose sight of the distinction between the human and divine 30 31 32 33 34

Hoeksema, Reformed Dogmatics, 293. Hoeksema, Reformed Dogmatics, 308–09. Hoeksema, Reformed Dogmatics, 311. Hoeksema, Reformed Dogmatics, 311. Hoeksema, Reformed Dogmatics, 311–12.

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natures. In his divine nature Christ is equal with God but in his human nature he is subordinate to him. This means that when Christ says he was sent, he “does not speak according to His divine, but according to His human nature.”35 This means that texts like John 6:38–39, and others like them, cannot refer to eternal intratrinitarian deliberations but only to the incarnation, which is a temporal event. Moreover, passages such as this and others like them mention nothing of a covenant, an agreement, but only speak of a mission, task, or work that God assigned to Christ, which he faithfully completed.36 Now at this point we might think that Hoeksema has all but washed his hands of the pactum. On the contrary, he believes that the entire idea should not be discarded. His objection is to constructing a covenant upon the various typically cited passages.37 Rather than conceive of the pactum as an agreement, the doctrine must instead be moved into the very being of God: it must be conceived as “a living, spontaneous relation and communion, a communion of friendship, which is given with the very nature and relation of God and man in the covenant. For in that case the covenant is not an incidental relation, but belongs to the very essence of the relation in the covenant.”38 In more technical terms, for Hoeksema the pactum is not a voluntary transient act of God but an immanent necessary act, one that belongs to the divine essence: “Divine trinitarian life is the life of the covenant.” Or in other words, “The covenant is the bond of God with Himself.”39 He asserts this in clear terms: “He is the God of the covenant, not according to a decree or according to an agreement or pact, but according to His very divine Nature and Essence.”40 Hoeksema, like Murray, has redefined the term covenant, though in a different way. A covenant is not an agreement but the essential communal bond of the triune God. And if this is the nature of the intra-trinitarian covenant, then it also characterizes God’s covenants with man.41 When God created Adam, he did not make an agreement with him, but rather created him in his own image, which entailed being created into the triune covenant communion, the “living relation of friendship.”42 When Adam disobeyed, God continued this same covenant with Christ because, “God is One. And His covenant is one.”43 Like Murray, there is only one covenant, but unlike Murray, this covenant finds its genesis, not in time, 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43

Hoeksema, Reformed Dogmatics, 312. Hoeksema, Reformed Dogmatics, 314. Hoeksema, Reformed Dogmatics, 316. Hoeksema, Reformed Dogmatics, 318. Hoeksema, Reformed Dogmatics, 321. Hoeksema, Reformed Dogmatics, 319. Hoeksema, Reformed Dogmatics, 321–22. Hoeksema, Reformed Dogmatics, 324–25, 214–26. Hoeksema, Reformed Dogmatics, 325.

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but in eternity in the divine essence. That God walked alone between the severed animals when God continued his covenant with Abraham is evidence that he is the one true participant: “Never does man become a party over against God in the conclusion of a covenant.”44 Along similar lines to Murray’s, Hoeksema contends that the Old Testament term ‫ ברית‬occurs roughly 300 times and usually has the meaning of testament, and that the Septuagint’s translation, διαθήκη, has precisely this meaning.45 Hoeksema does not invoke the term συνθήκη but he does seem to have the same idea as Murray, namely, divine covenants are unilateral. In the Scriptures, therefore, covenants are not agreements but rather “a living relation of friendship between God and those whom He has chosen in Jesus Christ.”46 Like Murray, therefore, Hoeksema redefines the very nature of covenant and comes to conclusions very different from the earlier tradition. Murray sought to preserve the unilateral nature of the covenant, so he identified the paradigmatic covenant in a historical manifestation of God’s unilateral and gracious dealings with man, the Noahic covenant. Hoeksema went in the opposite direction and pushed everything back into eternity to preserve the unilateral nature of the covenant. Like John Gill (1697–1771) and Jonathan Edwards (1703–58) in the eighteenth century, Murray and Hoeksema sought to preserve monergism but did so in diametrically opposed manners. Moreover, their methodology is somewhat different. Murray makes his case almost exclusively on exegetical grounds, namely, through the definition of one term, covenant. Hoeksema, on the other hand, does offer exegesis but makes his case on theological argumentation, and arguably through speculation about the nature of the divine essence. Although Hoeksema cites Kuyper as an antecedent of the idea that covenant is part of the divine essence, there is debate whether Kuyper actually taught the concept.47 Kuyper aside, the absence of any other citations indicates that Hoeksema creates an unprecedented formulation of the pactum. He affirms the doctrine in name only. And unlike earlier formulations, election is the only soteriological consideration—Hoeksema says nothing about christology, imputation, Christ’s active and passive obedience, justification, or sanctification. The absence of these doctrines is evident in his definition of the pactum: “The 44 45 46 47

Hoeksema, Reformed Dogmatics, 323. Hoeksema, Reformed Dogmatics, 323. Hoeksema, Reformed Dogmatics, 323–24. Cf. Laurence O’Donnell, “Not Subtle Enough: An assessment of Modern Scholarship on Herman Bavinck’s Reformulation of the Pactum Salutis contra ‘Scholastic Subtlety,” MAJT 22 (2011): 89–106; Bertus Loonstra, Verkiezing – Verzoening – Verbond: Beschrijving en beoordeling van de leer van het pactum salutis in de gereformeerde theologie (Gravenhage: Uitgeverij Boekencentrum, 1990).

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eternal decree of God to reveal His own Triune covenant life in the highest possible sense of the word in the establishment and realization of a covenant outside of Himself with the creature in the way of sin and grace, of death and redemption, to the glory of His holy name.”48 In Hoeksema’s mind, his version of the doctrine is vibrant and full of life in comparison with the “dry, scholastic presentation … wherein the Father and Son mutually present their demands and conditions, a presentation in which no place is found for the Holy Spirit.”49

6.2.3 Klaas Schilder Klaas Schilder is another prominent twentieth-century Reformed theologian that deserves examination. Unlike Hoeksema, whose systematic theology sets forth his views in an orderly presentation, Schilder never offered a detailed exposition of his views on the covenant. His doctrine of the covenant has to be gathered from the various statements spread throughout his theological corpus.50 Schilder acknowledges that the pactum was a dogmatic construction that theologians employed to explain the intra-trinitarian relations regarding the redemption of the elect in various passages of Scripture (Zech. 6:12–13; Isa. 53:10–11; Psa. 40:7; Heb. 10:10; John 6:40; Psalm 2:8 [sic]; Heb. 7:22; 8:6; Luke 22:29).51 Unlike Murray, Schilder is content to say that a covenant is an agreement, and by extension the pactum is also an agreement. But he believes that such a construction necessitates the idea that, if there is a pactum salutis, there must also be a pactum damni (covenant of damnation), a pactum creationis (covenant of creation), and a pactum restaurations (covenant of restoration). All decisions that God makes fall under the framework of the triune deliberations of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, hence every decision is covenantal ad infinitum.52 Schilder instead suggests that the covenant is part of the intra-trinitarian covenant life. Like Hoeksema, Schilder is willing to embrace the pactum salutis if it is defined in this manner. It should also come as no surprise that Schilder rejects the covenant of works. As Hoeksema also taught, there is only one cov48 Hoeksema, Reformed Dogmatics, 330. 49 Hoeksema, Reformed Dogmatics, 323. 50 S. A. Strauss, “Schilder on the Covenant,” in Always Obedient: Essays on the Teachings of Dr. Klaas Schilder, ed. J. Geertsema (Phillipsburg: P & R, 1995), 19. 51 Klaas Schilder, Heidelbergsche Catechismus, 3 vols. (Goes: Oosterbaan & Le Cointre, 1947– 51), I:382–83. For Schilder’s analysis of the covenant see J. Mark Beach, “The Doctrine of the Pactum Salutis in the Covenant Theology of Herman Witsius,” MAJT 13 (2002): 101–42, esp. 111–13. Regarding Schilder’s understanding of Zechariah 6:12–13, a common proof-text for the pactum, see Klaas Schilder, Christ on Trial, trans. Henry Zylstra (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1939), 427–55. 52 Schilder, Heidelbergsche Catechismus, I:383.

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enant in history, and even man’s sin did not break it.53 In fact, Schilder’s one covenant view entails that the gospel was present in the pre-fall garden along with the promises of blessings and curses.54 In such a construction Schilder’s intention was to eliminate every notion of merit. In its place faith in God’s word was the requirement.55 This is true not only for Adam but even for Christ—his faith is the means by which he brought about the redemption of the elect.56 Schilder taught that the covenant is the inner life of the triune God into which he graciously creates human beings: We know that the fellowship between God and man is a religious communion; it creates a unity, not of essence or influence, but of fidelity to covenant. The covenant has been placed between God and man. From that covenant, religion arises. By means of the covenant the relationship existing between Creature and man becomes a personal relationship of love … God accepts man, His creature, as a friend. Man, who exists in a relationship of duty, now stands in a relationship of privilege. Man, His pure product, He now makes a producer. By this means God makes His own servant a friend.57

This means that Schilder did not define a covenant as a mutual agreement or contract because the so-called covenant of works was “monopleurical in character.”58 Christ was “called from eternity,” for example, to the great work of redemption, “to the law of the covenant of grace,” not by an agreement between the Father and the Son.59 Hence, either a person was in the covenant or rejected it.60 “The covenant of grace is not a second covenant,” writes Schilder. “As a matter of fact, duplications are at variance with the covenant; a covenant stands or falls with the precept ‘all or nothing,’ and therefore also with ‘always or never’, as well as with ‘once and for all.’”61 Schilder made room for two parties of the covenant, God and man, but placed the emphasis upon God’s grace: “The covenant of grace, like every covenant, has two parties; and yet, in a sense, there is only one party, for the church is the sleeping beauty who cannot even remain awake in the hour of the Bridegroom’s coming.”62 Like Murray and Hoeksema, Schilder eliminated 53 Beach, “Pactum Salutis,” 112. 54 Schilder, Heidelbergshe Catechismus, I:404–05; Beach, “Pactum Salutis,” 112 n. 30; Schilder, Christ on Trial, 515–16. 55 Beach, “Pactum Salutis,” 113. 56 Klaas Schilder, Christ in His Suffering, trans. Henry Zylstra (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1938), 389. 57 Klaas Schilder, Christ Crucified, trans. Henry Zylstra (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1940), 406. 58 Schilder, Christ Crucified, 408, 413–14. 59 Schilder, Christ Crucified, 295. 60 Beach, “Pactum Salutis,” 113; Schilder, Heidelbergsche Catechismus, II:26–27. 61 Klaas Schilder, Wat is de Hemel? (Kampen: Bok, 1935), 252, as quoted in Strauss, “Schilder of the Covenant,” 23. 62 Schilder, Christ in His Suffering, 402, 408–09.

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the covenants of redemption and works and opted for only one covenant. The three theologians are not alike in every way, but they share a tendency towards mono-covenantalism, which is connected to the redefinition of the term covenant.

6.2.4 Karl Barth Unlike Murray, Hoeksema, and Schilder, who were parochial players on the twentieth-century global stage, Karl Barth quickly catapulted himself onto the international scene with the publication of his Römerbrief and then subsequently with the massive fourteen volumes of his Church Dogmatics. While Murray, Hoeksema, and Schilder persuaded some people within their own spheres of influence to reject the pactum salutis, Barth’s role is considerably larger. And unlike the three aforementioned theologians who were somewhat circumspect and polite in their rejection of the pactum, Barth created quite a splash with his cannonball statement that the pactum was pure “mythology.” This statement has been represented by numerous analysts to support the claim that Barth utterly rejected the pactum. Recent analysis, however, has demonstrated that rather than completely reject it, Barth replaced it with his own pactum-like structure. To understand Barth’s view, we must first briefly survey his rejection of the pactum and then, second, his proposed alternative.63 Barth’s rejection of the pactum should be read within the broader context of his own covenant theology, which incorporates his doctrines of christology and election. Barth is famously known for his rejection of the covenant of works and his inversion of the traditional distinction between law and gospel.64 Seventeenthcentury Reformed theologians spoke in terms of law and gospel because of their commitment to the covenants of the works and grace.65 The covenant of works was largely synonymous with natural law and the obligation of personal, perpetual, obedience, and the covenant of grace was God’s supernatural intervention where Christ interposed his own obedience and suffering on behalf of the elect to save them (cf. WCF VII.i–vi; XIX.i–vii). In Barth’s system, such a construction 63 See Laurence O’Donnell, “Categorical Rejection and Calculated Reformulation: A Demythologizing Reappraisal of Karl Barth’s ‘Mythological’ Polemic against the pactum salutis,” Unpublished paper, 3 January 2011. 64 Karl Barth, “Gospel and Law,” in Community, State, and Church: Three Essays (1960; Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2004), 71–100. 65 E. g., see Zacharias Ursinus, Commentary on the Heidelberg Catechism (1852; Phillipsburg: P & R, n. d.), 1; Theodore Beza, The Christian Faith, trans. James Clark (Lewes: Focus Christian Ministries, 1992), 41–43; William Perkins, The Art of Prophesying (1606; Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1996), 54–56.

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fails to adhere to the teaching of Scripture and introduces humanism into the equation as the traditional view posits revelation outside of Christ, which for Barth is a non-starter. He says that such a construction would have never occurred “if there had been a loyal hearing of the Gospel and a strict looking to Jesus Christ as the full and final revelation of the being of God.”66 In Barth’s analysis, he believes the pactum is directly related to the intrusion of the covenant of works, and therefore, he presents three reasons why the pactum should be rejected. First, he questions whether there was truly a need to posit a “legally binding mutual obligation between God the Father and God the Son” in order for him to be gracious to sinful humanity. In Barth’s mind such an idea means that God’s righteousness is abstracted from its manifestation in Christ, i. e., from his covenantal dealings with fallen humanity.67 If God is not fundamentally gracious towards humanity, then there might be a hidden God behind the pactum, one perhaps less inclined or unable to exercise grace towards man. This question gives rise to an anxiety, argues Barth, where people wonder who God truly is.68 Second, Barth objects to the pactum on trinitarian grounds. He asks whether the Father and the Son as two divine and legal subjects can have dealings with another. This is where Barth introduces his famous charge: “This is mythology, for which there is no place in a right understanding of the doctrine of the Trinity as the doctrine of the three modes of being of the one God [von den drei Seinsweisen Gottes], which is how it was understood and presented in Reformed orthodoxy itself.”69 There is only one subject, God, and he is one. If there are various parties to a covenant, then they are the one triune God and man. How can the one God, for example, have different wills? How can the will of the Father be different from the will of the Son? 70 Barth does not level the specific criticism, but his language is clear enough: the pactum introduces tri-theism. Third, Barth believes that the pactum is such a sublime and uplifting doctrine that it rises too high to be a legitimate Christian thought. Behind his sarcasm is the question of how man can truly participate in this covenant. Moreover, there is no need of a decree or pact to unite God in his attitude towards man, whether with respect to his properties (seinen Eigenschaften) or as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit 66 Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, 14 vols., ed. G. W. Bromiley, T. F. Torrance (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1936–68), IV/1:65. 67 Barth, Church Dogmatics, IV/1:64. 68 Barth, Church Dogmatics, IV/1:65. 69 Barth, Church Dogmatics, IV/1:65; idem, Die Kirchliche Dogmatik, vol. IV/1 (Zürich: Evangelischer Verlag, 1953), 69. For Barth’s unique term, mode vs. person, see, Alan Torrance, “The Trinity,” in The Cambridge Companion to Karl Barth, ed. John Webster (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 72–91, esp. 80–84. 70 Barth, Church Dogmatics, IV/1:65; idem, Kirchliche Dogmatik, IV/1:70.

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—there is always a unity in the godhead. God would not be God if he did not possess unity.71 Hence, Barth rejects the pactum because it abstracts God’s righteousness from the gospel, it requires a tri-theistic view of the one triune God, and it fails to incorporate man in the very covenant purported to include him. But Barth does not completely reject any notion of the pactum salutis. Like Hoeksema and Schilder, Barth redefines key concepts and offers his own version of the doctrine. Barth writes: This is what we can call a decree, an opus Dei internum ad extra, and therefore a pact: God’s free election of grace, in which even in His eternity before all time and the foundation of the world, He is no longer alone by Himself, He does not rest content with Himself, He will not restrict Himself to the wealth of His perfections and His own inner life as Father, Son and Holy Spirit. In this free act of the election of grace there is already present, and presumed, and assumed into unity with His own existence as God, the existence of the man whom He intends and loves from the very first and in whom He intends and loves all other men, of the man in whom He wills to bind Himself with all other men and all other man with Himself. In this free act of the election of grace the Son of the Father is no longer just the eternal Logos, but as such, as very God from eternity He is also the very God and very man He will become in time.72

Barth does not fault seventeenth-century Reformed theologians for looking for an eternal basis for the covenant of grace, which is the function the pactum served in their theological systems. Rather, he faults them for erroneously constructing the eternal basis of the covenant of grace. In Barth’s mind, God’s election of Christ as the one elected and rejected man properly accounts for the universalism he found in Scripture, something seventeenth-century Reformed theologians missed—they went down a “blind alley” with their doctrines of selective election and limited atonement.73 Instead, Christ’s election as the elect man for all men is the pact, or covenant: “He in whom the covenant of grace is fulfilled and revealed in history is also its eternal basis. He who in Scripture is attested to be very God and very man is also the eternal testamentum, the eternal sponsio, the eternal pactum, between God and man.”74 As with Murray, Hoeksema, and Schilder, for Barth there is only one covenant, though there are considerable differences among these four theologians.

71 72 73 74

Barth, Church Dogmatics, IV/1:66. Barth, Church Dogmatics, IV/1:66. Barth, Church Dogmatics, IV/1:58. Barth, Church Dogmatics, IV/1:66.

Analysis

6.3

187

Analysis

There are certainly significant differences among Murray, Hoeksema, Schilder, and Barth. The first three theologians critically engaged Barth on a number of issues, including his exegesis of Romans 5, the hyper-transcendence of God, eschatology, universalism, and the use of paradox in theology.75 But clear and undeniable common threads appear in all four theologians: (1) the rejection of the pactum salutis; (2) the rejection of the covenant of works; (3) the promotion of one covenant of grace; and (4) a redefinition of the term covenant. These structural similarities, in fact, share a common historical-theological DNA. Or to change the metaphor, even if the branches of the tree spread out in different directions, they all possess a common root system. This common root system appears under two commonly shared tendencies in all four theologians: antischolasticism and the relative importance of John Calvin (1509–64).

6.3.1 Anti-Scholasticism The first commonly shared trait is a spirit of anti-scholasticism, which is subdued in Murray but pronounced at points in Hoeksema, Schilder, and especially Barth. In order to understand this common thread, the investigation needs to account for the much larger historical context in the Reformed theological world, a context that includes a number of other figures including Herman Dooyweerd (1894–1977) and Cornelius Van Til (1895–1987). These men were part of significant dialogue in the Netherlands that shaped much of the attitudes and perceptions of classic Reformed theology, and especially Reformed scholasticism. With the rejection of scholasticism, there was a tendency to reject doctrines such as the covenants of redemption and works. While this diversion to the larger context may at first seem like a rabbit trail, connecting the critics of the pactum to these figures will show that they were all breathing the same theological air. This common environment led these four theologians to a common diagnosis regarding the weaknesses in the Reformed tradition, and led them to reject central elements of classic covenant theology, including the pactum salutis.

75 John Murray, “Appendix D: Karl Barth on Romans 5,” in The Epistle to the Romans, NICNT (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1968), 384–90; Hoeksema, Reformed Dogmatics, 39–40, 731–32, 766; Klaas Schilder, Bij dichters en schriftgeleerden (Amsterdam: Uitgeversmaatschappij Holland, 1927); cf. George Harinck, “‘How Can an Elephant Understand a Whale and Vice Versa?’ The Dutch Origins of Cornelius Van Til’s Appraisal of Karl Barth,” in Karl Barth and American Evangelicalism, ed. Bruce L. McCormack / Clifford B. Anderson (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2011), 21.

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We can begin this excursion with John Murray and the mildly critical stance he took towards the tradition. Murray was educated at Princeton where Charles Hodge’s Systematic Theology had replaced the use of Francis Turretin’s Institutes as the main instructional theological text. But one only needs to peruse the pages of Hodge’s magnum opus to find numerous references to Turretin, an icon of Reformed Scholasticism.76 By way of contrast, references to Turretin or other Reformed scholastics in Murray’s constructive theology are rare. In the 417 pages of his collected lectures and essays, which were posthumously edited to comprise his systematic treatment of theology, Murray cites Turretin once.77 As committed as Murray was to the Reformed confessional tradition, he feared giving history too great a role: “There is the danger of a stagnant traditionalism and we must be alert to this danger, on the one hand, as to that of discarding our historical moorings, on the other.” Murray was concerned to keep a scriptural-check on the tradition: “As it is true that ecclesia reformata reformanda est so also is it true that theologia reformata reformanda est. When any generation is content to rely upon its theological heritage and refuses to explore for itself the riches of divine revelation, then declension is already under way and heterodoxy will be the lot of the succeeding generation.”78 There are two important observations about Murray’s invocation of the reformanda saying quoted above. First, Murray’s appeal is a popular misunderstanding of this famous quote, ecclesia reformata semper reformanda est, “The Reformed church is always in need of reformation.” The common mythology behind this quote, which supposedly originated with Calvin, is the idea that the church always has to be improving, revising, and changing its doctrine to accord with Scripture. Yet the quotation emerged in the seventeenth century when elements of the Dutch Reformed church embraced Roman Catholic theology. The call, therefore, was not to revise Reformed theology but to purge Roman Catholic doctrine from a backsliding Reformed church.79 Second, given Murray’s misunderstanding of the semper reformanda slogan, he misapplies it by claiming that theologia reformata reformanda est, “Reformed theology is in need of reformation.” Murray unabashedly carried out his program of reformanda: 76 Charles Hodge, Systematic Theology (rep.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993), I:370, 468, 598, 603, II:211, 359, 393, 461, 473, 678, 685, III:3–4, 61, 100, 145–46, 853. 77 John Murray, Collected Writings, vol. 2, Systematic Theology (1977; Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1996), 80. 78 John Murray, “Systematic Theology,” in Collected Writings of John Murray, vol. 4, Studies in Theology (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1982), 7–8. 79 Michael Bush, “Calvin and the Reformanda Sayings,” in Calvinus sacrarum literarum interpres: Papers of the International Congress on Calvin Research, ed. Herman Selderhuis (Göttingen: Vandenhoek & Ruprecht, 2008), 285–99.

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It would not be, however, in the interests of theological conservation or theological progress for us to think that the covenant theology is in all respects definitive and that there is no further need for correction, modification, and expansion. Theology must always be undergoing reformation. However architectonic may be the systematic constructions of any one generation or group of generations, there always remains the need for correction and reconstruction so that the structure may be brought into closer approximation to the Scripture and the reproduction be a more faithful transcript or reflection of the heavenly exemplar. It appears to me that the covenant theology, notwithstanding the finesse of analysis with which it was worked out and the grandeur of its articulated systematization, needs recasting. We would not presume to claim that we shall be so successful in this task that the reconstruction will displace and superseded the work of the classic covenant theologians. But with their help we may be able to contribute a little towards a more biblically articulated and formulated construction of the covenant concept and of its application to our faith, hope, and love.80

Murray’s words are important because they provide the substance to his claim for the need to reform Reformed theology. Murray’s redefinition of covenant, moreover, demonstrates his break with the earlier tradition. To be sure, Murray keeps a respectful tone and does not come out and polemicize against the tradition. He operates as one committed to the Reformed tradition but nevertheless was not shy of expressing his disagreement with it.81 Murray’s polite and respectful tones give way to the more direct anti-scholastic criticisms of Hoeksema, Schilder, and especially Barth. In Hoeksema’s treatment of the pactum he latched on to a statement offered by Herman Bavinck that the doctrine was marked by “scholastic hairsplitting” and himself echoed this sentiment: “It cannot be denied that the development of this doctrine was characterized by much scholastic reasoning and subtle hair-splitting.”82 Likewise Schilder believed that the pactum was evidence that seventeenth-century Reformed theologians intruded into God’s eternal counsel and were guilty of scholastic tinkering (Scholastiek geknutsel).83 A likely source behind this negative characterization of the pactum lies in a general trend in Neo-Calvinist theology in the early to mid-twentieth century, which has a connection to the bloody events of World War I, Barth, and a commonly shared historical-theological narrative.

80 Murray, Covenant of Grace, 4–5. 81 For his disagreements and criticisms of the Westminster Standards see, e. g., John Murray, “The Theology of the Westminster Confession of Faith,” Collected Writings of John Murray, vol. 4, Studies in Theology (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1982), 241–63; cf. Jeong Koo Jeon, Covenant Theology: John Murray’s and Meredith G. Kline’s Response to the Historical Development of Federal Theology in Reformed Thought (Lanham: University Press of America, 1999), 186–90. 82 Hoeksema, Reformed Dogmatics, 287, 292; cf. Herman Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, 4 vols., ed. John Bolt, trans. John Vriend (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2003–08), III:213. 83 Beach, “Pactum Salutis,” 112; Schilder, Heidelbergsche Catechismus, I:383.

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In the period leading up to World War I many theologians and philosophers believed that humanity was making greater and greater progress towards a utopian world that would conclude with the return of Christ. But the outbreak of war, the likes of which had not been seen before, quickly dashed the hopes of an earthly utopia against the rocks of mass casualties, chemical warfare, and new technological advances of the machine gun, airplane, and tank, which made killing more effective. Estimates place the total number of military and civilian causalities at more than 37 million. For all of the garish uniforms, aristocracy dressed in their finest, and the romanticism of war, the macabre stench of death hung over Europe and in many of the academic halls of learning.84 Many believed that World War I represented Christianity’s catastrophic failure and evidence that the world had entered a post-Christian era. Christian theologians naturally took up positions to defend the faith and reexamined their theological assumptions. One of the most famous reactions to these events was Barth’s incredulity that many of his theological professors had endorsed the war policies of Kaiser Wilhelm II (1859–1941) and Chancellor Theobald von Bethmann-Hollweg (1856– 1921). Barth revaluated his theological convictions. Everything that Barth knew to be true was “shaken to the foundations, and with it, all the other writings of the German theologians.”85 The chief focal point of Barth’s realigned theology was his reconsideration of the doctrine of revelation. From the inception of his reorientation in 1916, he commented: “We must learn again to understand revelation as grace and grace as revelation and therefore turn away from all ‘true’ or ‘false’ theologia naturalis by ever making new decisions and being ever controverted anew.”86 In Barth’s view, all revelation centered upon God’s self-disclosure in Christ so there was hence no room for revelation outside of him.87 In Barth’s estimation natural theology led to all sorts of theological abominations. The malefactor, in his mind, was Thomas Aquinas (1225–74), who posited the idea that grace presupposes and perfects nature, what theologians have later identified as a nature-grace dualism, or in Barth’s word a dialectic.88 He believed that Calvin escaped this theological trap

84 Harinck, “Can an Elephant Understand a Whale,” 23, 34. For overviews of World War I, see Peter Hart, The Great War: A Combat History of the First World War (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013); Barbara W. Tuchman, The Guns of August (New York: Random House, 1962). 85 Eberhard Busch, Karl Barth: His life from letters and autobiographical texts (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1975), 81–83. 86 Karl Barth, No! An Answer to Emil Brunner, in Natural Theology: Comprising ‘Nature and Grace’ by Professor Dr. Emil Brunner and the reply ‘No!’ by Dr. Karl Barth, trans. Peter Fraenkel (1935; Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2002), 71. 87 Barth, No!, 74–75. 88 Barth, No!, 100–01, 103.

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but subsequent Reformed theologians did not.89 Barth argued that Calvin did not believe that there was a “point of contact” between natural man and God—“there is no relation, nothing common, and hence no inner connection.”90 Barth’s rejection of the nature-grace dualism lies at the heart of his critique of the pactum and the covenant of works, as well as his dislike for Protestant scholasticism. Barth preferred Cocceius’s covenantal theology to the scholastics like Amandus Polanus (1561–1610) and the Leiden Synopsis (1625), which employed the loci method. He characterized the superiority of Cocceius’s covenant theology over and against scholastic theology in the following manner: “We cannot escape the impression that the traditional dogmatics had started to move like a frozen stream of lava.”91 The covenant of works, or nature, introduced a dualism into the picture of redemption, thereby soiling the one covenant of grace, and this dualism also splintered the unitary godhead.92 In Barth’s analysis, the law destroyed the covenant of grace; natural law was equally incompatible with the covenant of grace. Barth identified Philip Melanchthon (1497–1560) as the culprit who introduced natural law into the formerly dualism-free Reformed theology championed by Calvin. Subsequent Reformed theologians such as Wolfgang Musculus (1497–1563), Stephanus Szegedinus (1515–72), Zacharias Ursinus (1534–83), and Caspar Olevianus (1536–87) were infected with this dualismstrain, which corrupted the pure Genevan theological gene pool.93 Barth believed that the Reformed tradition could have avoided the forbidden fruit of humanism, and along with it the nature-grace dualism, if they had “determined to know the eternal and therefore the only basis of the divine work in the work itself, in its temporal occurrence, to know the eternal divine Logos in His incarnation.”94 Barth’s observations and theology soon spread throughout Europe, and many theologians in the Netherlands initially positively received them. Klaas Schilder was intrigued by Barth and other Neo-Calvinist pastors financially supported Barth through an extra-ecclesial association called the Reformatie Bund, which funded Reformed professors and students abroad, when he was appointed to the chair of Reformed theology at Göttingen University in 1921. Neo-Calvinist theologians sent Barth copies of works by Kuyper, Bavinck, and a Dutch-German dictionary to facilitate his reading. But support in the Netherlands waned when Barth became critical of Neo-Calvinist efforts to Christianize culture.95 Never89 90 91 92 93 94 95

Barth, No!, 102–05. Barth, No!, 107. Barth, Church Dogmatics, IV/1:55. Barth, Church Dogmatics, IV/1:55. Barth, Church Dogmatics, IV/1:58–59. Barth, Church Dogmatics, IV/1:66. Harinck, “Can an Elephant Understand a Whale,” 19; idem, “The Early Reception of the

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theless Schilder was the first Neo-Calvinist theologian to investigate Barth’s theology seriously, and as noted above, was critical at numerous points. Schilder and Barth, however, share similar concerns, such as the rejection of common grace and natural theology. In fact, “It is impossible to understand Schilder’s theology without taking into account the impulses he received from the theology of Barth.”96 Schilder’s resistance to scholasticism was also likely connected to his disagreements with Kuyper over common grace, presumptive regeneration, and the covenant, which some have characterized as being laden with scholastic distinctions and terms.97 But Schilder did not live in a vacuum; he interacted with other Neo-Calvinist theologians such as Herman Dooyeweerd, Herman Hoeksema, Cornelius Van Til, and D. H. Th. Vollenhoven (1892–1978). George Harinck documents the interaction and correspondence between these theologians and demonstrates that they knew and trafficked theological ideas among themselves. This interaction was part of numerous Dutch-American exchanges. During a fifty-year period (1890–1940) Dutch Reformed theologians visited no country more often than the United States.98 In fact, Schilder, Dooyeweerd, and Vollenhoven started a theological movement in Holland that stressed the “religious character of reality (covenant), the radical character of Reformed theology and philosophy (antithesis), and the dynamics of modern life (existentialism).”99 Van Til was also influenced by Schilder, Dooyeweerd, and Vollenhoven, and in a letter to Vollenhoven he wrote: “I get great comfort and help from both of you [Vollenhoven and Dooyeweerd].” Van Til contributed to Schilder’s weekly publication De Reformatie and in 1936 he joined the editorial team of Dooyeweerd’s and Vollenhoven’s journal, Philosophia Reformata.100 This is not to say that their views always perfectly aligned, e. g., on the role of common grace, but there is enough commonality on the assessment of scholasticism to link them.101 Hoeksema seems to be far enough

96 97 98 99 100 101

Theology of Karl Barth in the Netherlands (1919–26),” Zeitschrift für Dialektishe Theologie 17/2 (2001): 170–87. Harinck, “Can an Elephant Understand a Whale,” 22. Rudolf van Reest, Schilder’s Struggle for the Unity of the Church, trans. Theodore Plantinga (Alberta: Inheritance Publications, 1990), 158. George Harinck, “Valentijn Hepp in America: Attempts at International Exchange in the 1920s,” in Sharing the Reformed Tradition: The Dutch-North American Exchange, 1846– 1996, ed. George Harinck / Hans Krabbendam (Amsterdam: VU Uitgeverij, 1996), 115–38. Harinck, “Can an Elephant Understand a Whale,” 35. Harinck, “Can an Elephant Understand a Whale,” 35. For Van Til’s views on common grace, see Cornelius Van Til, Common Grace and the Gospel (Phillipsburg: P & R, 1972); cf. See also John Muether, Cornelius Van Til: Reformed Apologist and Churchman (Phillipsburg: P & R, 2008), 152–53; David VanDrunen, Natural Law and the Two Kingdoms: A Study in the Development of Reformed Social Thought (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010), 286–422.

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removed in his own theological development to be directly connected to Dooyeweerd.102 Hoeksema’s biographer links his views on the covenant as relationship to Bavinck and Foppe Martin ten Hoor (1835–1934), one of his seminary professors.103 But like Dooyeweerd, Hoeksema saw significant problems with the nature-grace construct.104 The connections among these theologians prove especially noteworthy when we consider what Dooyeweerd has to say about scholasticism. Dooyeweerd set out to create a truly Reformed system of philosophy. On the one hand, this is perfectly understandable given his historical context—he was raised in a Reformed home, attended a Reformed primary school, attended the Reformed Free University of Amsterdam, and lived in the Netherlands, where at its peak, ten percent of the total student population was studying theology at the numerous Reformed theological institutions.105 Moreover, he grew up in a country where a Reformed theologian and pastor became the prime minister, started a Reformed newspaper, labor union, and political party.106 It seems only natural, then, that Dooyeweerd would seek to construct a consistently Reformed philosophy. As much as Dooyeweerd was indebted to Reformed theologians such as Bavinck and Kuyper, he believed they were infected by scholasticism, which corrupted their theology.107 Like Barth, Dooyeweerd believed that the Reformed tradition had imbibed from the powerful influence of Greek philosophy, Aristotle (384–22 bc) primarily, and the scholastic nature-grace dualism.108 Dooyeweerd contends that the medieval scholastics, primarily Aquinas, created this unholy synthesis between theology and pagan, or humanistic, philosophy.109 By admitting that there was a patch of unaffected turf within humanity’s ontological constitution medieval scholastics denied the noetic effects of sin and created an artificial beachhead for human autonomy. This capitulation admitted the contagion of secularism into the pristine theology of the Reformation. The Protestant Scholastics imbibed from this same poisoned well, and this was the same 102 See Patrick Baskwell, Herman Hoeksema: A Theological Biography (Clover: Full Bible Publications, 2009), 54–206. 103 Baskwell, Herman Hoeksema, 66. 104 Baskwell, Herman Hoeksema, 185–86; Hoeksema, Reformed Dogmatics, 205–07. 105 Harinck, “Early Reception of Barth,” 170–71; see also, Albert M. Wolters, “The Intellectual Milieu of Herman Dooyeweerd,” in The Legacy of Herman Dooyeweerd, ed. C. T. McIntire (Lanham: University Press of America, 1985), 1–20. 106 See James D. Bratt, Abraham Kuyper: Modern Calvinist, Christian Democrat (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2013). 107 Herman Dooyeweerd, In the Twilight of Western Thought, Collected Works, Series B, vol. 16, ed. D. F. M. Strauss (Grand Rapids: Paideia Press, 2012), 90; idem, Reformation and Scholasticism in Philosophy, 3 vols., Collected Works, Series A, vols. 5/1–3, ed. D. F. M. Strauss, trans. Ray Togtmann (Grand Rapids: Paideia Press, 2012), I:3. 108 Dooyeweerd, Western Thought, 31. 109 Dooyeweerd, Western Thought, 32.

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strain of theology that existed up to present day.110 Dooyeweerd believed that medieval and Reformed scholasticism were two ugly peas in the same pod. Like Barth, Dooyeweerd laid the blame for this perversion of Reformed theology at the feet of Melanchthon (though he also mentions Theodore Beza), and he too believed that Calvin alone had escaped this corruption.111 Calvin, argues Dooyeweerd, had the proper starting point for all knowledge, not merely theology.112 We must begin with God and his self-disclosure in Scripture.113 Scripture is the “supra-scientific starting-point of a truly biblical theology and of a truly Christian philosophy.”114 In his rejection of the naturegrace dualism, he rules out the usefulness of common grace for a starting-point, largely rejects natural law, the distinction between law and gospel, the doctrine of the two kingdoms, and even theology of the Reformed Confessions: “And insofar as the influence of the Thomistic-Aristotelian metaphysics had even revealed itself in some formulations of the Reformed Confessions, especially in the Westminster Confession, this attack could be easily interpreted as a deviation from the Church’s doctrine.”115 Dooyeweerd objected to elements within the Reformed Confessions because he believed they embraced scholasticism in the dualistic body-soul understanding of anthropology.116 He rejected natural law and the law-gospel distinction because it created a false “natural sphere of life” where man was supposedly independent of the authority of God’s word.117 In fact, Luther’s law-gospel dualism was built on a foundation of Marcion’s (ca. 85–160) dialectical antithesis of the God of creation and redemption, which “produced a pseudo-Pauline emphasis on justification alone at the expense of the law.”118 Dooyeweerd believed that the Lutheran law-gospel distinction was absent from the Reformed confessions.119 For Dooyeweerd there was an absolute and irreconcilable antithesis between natural and scriptural thought.120 These are many of the same criticisms, if not the precise point of contention, that courses through Barth’s rejection of traditional covenant theology, especially the covenants of redemption and works. In fact, in a parallel fashion with 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120

Dooyeweerd, Western Thought, 32–35, 47–48, 81–82, 96–97. Dooyeweerd, Western Thought, 108; idem, Reformation and Scholasticism, I:16; II:13–15. Dooyeweerd, Western Thought, 116; idem, Reformation and Scholasticism, I:15. John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, trans. John Allen (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1949), I.i.1–2 Dooyeweerd, Western Thought, 86–87, also 106. Dooyeweerd, Western Thought, 38, 64, 108; idem, Reformation and Scholasticism, I:37–38, 326–27, II:90 See William Young, “Herman Dooyeweerd,” in Creative Minds in Contemporary Theology, ed. P. E. Hughes (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1969), 270–306, esp. 291. Dooyeweerd, Western Thought, 132; idem, Reformation and Scholasticism, I:36. Dooyeweerd, Reformation and Scholasticism, I:36–37. Dooyeweerd, Reformation and Scholasticism, I:38. Dooyeweerd, Reformation and Scholasticism, I:25, 29.

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Barth, Dooyeweerd asks the question of what unites the diversity that occurs in the Old and New Testaments. He does not use the term, but argues along the line of one covenant: “Their principle of unity can only be found in the central theme of creation, fall into sin, and redemption by Jesus Christ in the communion of the Holy Spirit, since it is the key to true knowledge of God and self-knowledge.”121 As stated above, these ideas did not remain with Dooyeweerd but were dispersed throughout the Dutch diaspora, particularly through Dooyeweerd’s connection with Cornelius Van Til. Van Til and Dooyeweerd had much in common but did go toe-to-toe over debated points in their respective apologetics systems. In fact, both accused one another of being “scholastic,” which was apparently a theological insult by this point in the twentieth-century reception of the Reformed tradition.122 Van Til would undoubtedly counter this claim: “Dooyeweerd and I are not engaged in name-calling at this point; we are helping each other to cleanse ourselves from the disfiguring detritus of synthesis thinking in order that the triune God of Scripture may have all the praise.” In fact, Van Til devoted some 200 unpublished typewritten pages to respond to Dooyeweerd’s accusations of scholasticism.123 The specifics of the debate are beyond the scope of this chapter, but what is of significant interest is Van Til’s characterization of scholasticism, which he likely obtained from Dooyeweerd. This was one of Dooyeweerd’s chief insights according to Van Til. Commenting about Dooyeweerd’s 1935–36 A New Critique of Theoretical Thought (Wijsbegeerte der Wetsidee), Van Til wrote in 1951: “The Reformed apologete is therefore better able than ever before to cut himself loose from every form of Scholasticism and Arminianism.”124 Like Dooyeweerd, Van Til rejects the nature-grace dualism of scholasticism and connects the corruption to Aristotle and Aquinas.125 And like Dooyeweerd, Van Til believed Kuyper and Bavinck also failed to escape the scholastic infection.126 But Van Til also includes Charles Hodge and B. B. Warfield along with the two great Dutch theologians as being guilty of scholasticism.127 Van Til took Kuyper to task for his fondness of Johannes Maccovius (1588–1644), whom 121 Dooyeweerd, Western Thought, 99. 122 See the exchange between Van Til and Dooyeweerd in, E. R. Geehan, Jerusalem and Athens: Critical Discussions on the Philosophy and Apologetics of Cornelius Van Til (Phillipsburg: P & R, 1980), 74–128. 123 Cornelius Van Til, Herman Dooyeweerd and Reformed Apologetics, 3 parts (Philadelphia: Westminster Theological Seminary, 1972), III:10. 124 Cornelius Van Til, “Herman Dooyeweerd (A Personal Tribute),” WTJ 39/2 (1977): 319–27. 125 Van Til, Dooyeweerd and Reformed Apologetics, I:9, III:5. 126 Van Til, Dooyeweerd and Reformed Apologetics, I:10, II:23–24, 39; idem, An Introduction to Systematic Theology (Phillipsburg: P & R, 1974), 43–61. 127 Van Til, Dooyeweerd and Reformed Apologetics, I:18; idem, A Christian Theory of Knowledge (Phillipsburg: P & R, 1969), 19–20; idem, Introduction to Systematic Theology, 30–42.

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Van Til observes, “Everybody agrees that Maccerrius [sic] was a scholastic.” And Bavinck was guilty of “incorporating much of the thinking of Thomas Aquinas in his magnus opus Gereformeerde Dogmatiel [sic].”128 Van Til believed that Calvin and Bavinck both followed the apostle Paul and “led us away from Scholasticism toward a unified interpretation of all the facts of human experience in terms of the primacy of the grace of God in Christ.”129 In fact, Van Til elevates Calvin and Luther to the level of superheroes because they sought to “destroy this scholastic monstrosity by the ideas of solus Christus, sola scriptura, and sola fide.” But Van Til laments, “But after Calvin the everlasting temptation besetting all Christians, especially sophisticated Christians, to make friends with those that are of Cain’s lineage proved too much for many Lutheran and even Reformed theologians and so Lutheran and Reformed Scholasticism were begotten and born.”130 The imagery is clear, in Van Til’s mind, Calvin is the garden and Reformed scholasticism is the fall. The Reformed scholastics found the forbidden fruit of the nature-grace dualism too tempting, took a bite, and gave birth to a bastardized version of Calvin’s theology. Van Til uses other similar biblical imagery to convey this same idea: “Such a synthesis is an unholy alliance of Israel, of the people of God, with the Philistines whose history is the history of seeking to destroy the people of God.”131 It should be noted, nevertheless, that as critical as Van Til was of “scholasticism,” unlike the twentieth century critics, he embraced the doctrine of the pactum.132 The question of the genesis of the anti-scholasticism virus is intriguing, and I do not care to attempt to identify patient zero of this epidemic. But what is important to note is that Barth, Hoeksema, and Schilder were all breathing the same air. Barth’s Copernican revolution in 1916 means that he was likely one of the first, or chief, people to promote the anti-scholasticism thesis, and it was mediated to other Reformed theologians through Dooyeweerd.133 Another distinct possibility is that the anti-scholasticism virus has its origins from multiple sources in the dogmatics and history texts of the nineteenth century.134 Another potential factor in the dissemination of Barth’s analysis to a broader Reformed reading and acceptance was that early in his rise to international recognition, the editors of the Expository Times stressed the similarities between Warfield and 128 129 130 131 132 133 134

Van Til, Dooyeweerd and Reformed Apologetics, II:60. Van Til, Dooyeweerd and Reformed Apologetics, II:49. Van Til, Dooyeweerd and Reformed Apologetics, III:17. Van Til, Dooyeweerd and Reformed Apologetics, III:23. See Cornelius Van Til, Christian Theistic Ethics (Phillipsburg: P & R, 1980), 12–13. Dooyeweerd, Reformation and Scholasticism, II:22–24. See Richard A. Muller, The Unaccomodated Calvin: Studies in the Foundation of a Theological Tradition (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 3–18, 39–61; idem, After Calvin: Studies in the Development of a Theological Tradition (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 3–104.

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Barth and labeled the latter a Neo-Calvinist. And others at Princeton Seminary sympathetic to his theology were quite comfortable with the orthodoxy in Neoorthodoxy.135 That is, the theological media and others sympathetic to Barth painted him as orthodox, which could have contributed to the willingness of some in the broader Reformed community to accept elements of his theology, such as his anti-scholasticism. As critical as many, such as Van Til, were of Barth’s theology, they may have recognized that he correctly diagnosed part of the tradition’s problem but they had radical disagreements over the necessary antidote.136 But what about Murray? He seems to have steered clear of all of the antischolasticism talk. Does he arrive at his own unique version of covenant theology in a vacuum? It is certainly possible that Murray was on an individual yet parallel track as Schilder, Hoeksema, and Barth. Nonetheless, one should not discount the international traffic that passed between the Netherlands and Philadelphia, between Van Til and Dooyeweerd. Van Til was not the only point of dissemination of Dooyeweerd’s thought; Robert D. Knudsen (1924–2000) was another source. Knudson studied under Van Til and then received his doctoral degree from the Free University of Amsterdam, and eventually returned to teach apologetics at Westminster in Philadelphia. He too disseminated Dooyeweerd’s thought in his teaching and published writings.137 The fact that Van Til and Knudsen disseminated Dooyeweerd’s anti-scholasticism, at a minimum, confirmed for Murray the necessity to revise and recast covenant theology. At the maximum, Van Til’s anti-scholasticism influenced Murray to reject tenets of classical covenant theology but he was unwilling to criticize publicly the Reformed tradition like Van Til and Dooyeweerd.138

135 Harinck, “Can an Elephant Understand a Whale,” 31. 136 On Van Til’s criticisms of Barth, see Cornelius Van Til, The New Modernism (Philadelphia: P & R, 1947); idem, Christianity and Barthianism (Phillipsburg: P & R, 2004). See also Muether, Van Til, 119–48. 137 See Cornelius Van Til, “Bibliography of the Writings of Robert D. Knudsen,” WTJ 58/1 (1996): 111–21. 138 These trends continue into the late-twentieth and early twenty-first centuries in the work of Gordon Spykman (1926–1993) and John Frame, with the former promoting Dooyeweerd’s critique and the later embracing elements of the anti-scholastic thesis (Gordon J. Spykman, Reformational Theology: A New Paradigm for Doing Dogmatics [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1992], 20–25, 100–01, 204–07; John Frame, The Doctrine of God [Phillipsburg: P & R, 2007], 3–11).

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6.3.2 Solus Calvinus This brings us to a second element for the likely reasons behind the rejection of the pactum salutis. Barth, Schilder, Hoeksema, and Murray have a great affinity for the theology of John Calvin. This affinity is not merely one of admiration but rather of theological preference. As noted above, Barth, argues that Calvin avoided the scholastic nature-grace dualism in his theology. Barth places the breach between Calvin, on the one hand, and Ursinus and Olevianus, two of the chief architects behind the Heidelberg Catechism, on the other.139 By way of contrast, “In Calvin there can be no question of the Law destroying the character of the covenant as a covenant of grace, nor can we find any combination of the covenant concept with a primitive lex naturae.”140 Murray’s interest in Calvin is similar to Barth’s. In his essay on the history of covenant theology, Murray seems to take on a slightly apologetic tone in his treatment of Calvin and the earlier Reformed tradition. Murray writes: “It was noted above that Calvin regarded the covenant made with Abraham as the first covenantal administration answering to justification and acceptance with God.”141 He also argues that other Reformed theologians, such as Girolamo Zanchi (1516–90), Ursinus, and Olevianus “followed Calvin … in expounding the doctrine of the Covenant of Grace.”142 Murray’s essay is about the history of the doctrine; it was originally written for the Encyclopedia of Christianity. But he seems to be interested in demonstrating that: (1) the early Reformed tradition makes no mention of the covenant of works, e. g., the Gallican (1559), Scots (1560), Belgic (1561), Second Helvetic (1566) confessions, the Thirty-Nine Articles (1562) and the Heidelberg Catechism (1563); (2) Calvin did not teach the covenant of works but nonetheless its chief elements are present: “The doctrine of Adam’s representative headship, which later on came to be formulated in terms of the Covenant of Works, is absent from his teaching.”143 In the light of Murray’s doctrine of the covenant, both in definition and rejection of the covenant of works, his point seems to be that he has returned to the earlier tradition. Murray found a theological antecedent for his own revisionary project. Read within the broader context of his redefinition of the covenant, and the rejection of the pactum salutis, Murray puts forth Calvin’s theology as his own. Moreover, when one factors the tension that Murray posits between Calvin and those who followed him by introducing the covenant of works, he posits a Calvin vs. the Calvinists thesis. That is, the subsequent Calvinist tradition departed from the theology and norms established by 139 140 141 142 143

Barth, Church Dogmatics, IV/1:58–59. Barth, Church Dogmatics, IV/1:58. Murray, “Covenant Theology,” 223. Murray, “Covenant Theology,” 225. Murray, “Covenant Theology,” 217–19.

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Calvin, the fountainhead of the tradition. For Murray, Calvin is the paradigm, or archetype, which is evident in his characterization of Calvin’s Institutes, “It was then that the opus magnum of Christian theology was given to the church.”144 A similar pattern unfolds in the works of Schilder and Hoeksema. In Schilder’s exposition of the Heidelberg Catechism a quick perusal of the index reveals that he cites roughly twenty-two sixteenth and seventeenth-century Reformed theologians for approximately 374 entries. References to Calvin comprise nearly a quarter of these references; Ursinus, the author of the Catechism, is the only figure to exceed Calvin.145 Schilder’s critics noted his esteem for Calvin.146 The index to Hoeksema’s Reformed Dogmatics reveals a similar pattern on a much smaller scale; his work is 872 pages but he makes very few references to other theologians. There are only 107 citations total for the whole work. But of the seven sixteenth- and seventeenth-century theologians that Hoeksema cites, entries to Calvin account for more than a third. By way of comparison, the “scholastic” Bavinck presents a different pattern. There are numerous references to a host of sixteenth- and seventeenth-century theologians, and though there are several hundred references to Calvin, there are more than 100 references each to Van Mastricht, Turretin, and Gisbert Voetius (1589–1676), and nearly as many to Zanchi. Bavinck makes almost as many references to Campegius Vitringa (1659– 1722) as to Calvin.147 Bavinck and Kuyper were both quite comfortable with the Reformed scholastics, viewed them as a part of the tradition as much as Calvin, and sought to refamiliarize their generation with their theology through the republication of key Reformed scholastic works. Under their editorial oversight, Bavinck and Kuyper republished the select disputations of Voetius, the select works of Francis Junius (1545–1602), and the well-known Leiden Synopsis.148 Keep in mind, however, just because a theologian cites Calvin, or any other person, does not automatically mean positive reception of an idea. But it does define a theologian’s interrogative world, the set of ideas with which a theologian positively and negatively interacts. What accounts for the disproportionate appeal to Calvin? I believe Hoeksema and Schilder, like Murray, saw Calvin as a theological ally, one absent of the pactum salutis, the covenant of works, and a proponent of one covenant of grace 144 145 146 147 148

Murray, “Systematic Theology,” 7. Schilder, Heidelbergsche Catechismus, IV:315–78. Van Reest, Schilder’s, 159. Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, IV:825–94. Antonius Thysius, et al., Synopsis Purioris Theologiae, ed. Herman Bavinck (Leiden: Didericum Donner, 1881); Gisbert Voetius, Selectarum Disputationum Fasciculus, Bibliotheca Reformata, vol. 4, ed. Abraham Kuyper (Amsterdam: Joannem Adamum, 1880); Francis Junius, Opuscula Theologica Selecta, Bibliotheca Reformata, vol. 1, ed. Abraham Kuyper (Amsterdam: Joannem Adamum, 1882).

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—a purer form of Reformed theology, one supposedly freed from the shackles of scholasticism. But are there any other factors that account for the rise of Calvin’s profile among these theologians? Why did Dooyeweerd, Van Til, and Barth argue that Calvin alone escaped the nature-grace dualism infection that corrupted the rest of the Reformed tradition? How did Reformed scholasticism, once perceived as a faithful sentry stationed on the ramparts of the tradition all of a sudden become a Trojan horse, a theological enemy and even a derogatory epithet in the hands of twentieth-century Reformed theologians? I believe two factors provide some explanation for the dominance of Calvin’s place and the interpretation of his theology, as free from the disease of scholasticism. First, these twentieth-century theologians labored in the wake of a nineteenthcentury renaissance of Calvin studies. European scholars produced an edition of Calvin’s New Testament commentaries (1833–34) and the Strasbourg edition of the Calvini Opera (1863–1900), which was the first nearly complete edition of Calvin’s works published since the seventeenth-century. In the English-speaking world the Calvin Translation Society published Calvin’s Institutes (1845–46), a collection of his theological treatises (1844), as well as his Old and New Testament commentaries, which total twenty-two volumes in the Baker Book House reprint edition. In addition to this, six different biographies of Calvin were published, one of which was translated into Dutch. And at the end of the century Emile Doumergue (1844–1937) started his multivolume biography (1899–1927) and Merle d’Aubingné’s (1794–1872) five-volume work on the Reformation was published, though the latter’s chief role in promoting Calvin occurred through his supervision of many Ph.D. students who researched various aspects of Calvin’s life and theology. The Calvin studies renaissance produced centers devoted to the study of the Reformer in Montauban, Strasbourg, Paris, and Geneva.149 Moreover, in nineteenth-century Dutch Reformed theology, Calvin was treated as a benchmark by which theologians measured their own views, either by expressing their agreement or rejection of his formulations.150 In the twentieth century, Calvin’s star rose even higher into the theological atmosphere when Barth began to engage him in his writings. In the early days of his professorship at Göttingen Barth taught a course on the theology of Calvin, which fed both his own theological project as well as his exegetical efforts in his Römerbrief.151 His lectures on Calvin in 1922 provide a window into the paradigmatic role Barth believed Calvin should serve: “We open books from the past 149 Arnold Huigen, “Calvin’s Reception in the Nineteenth Century,” in The Calvin Handbook, ed. Herman J. Selderhuis (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009), 488–89. 150 Huigen, “Calvin’s Reception,” 491. 151 Matthias Freudenberg, “Calvin’s Reception in the Twentieth Century,” in The Calvin Handbook, ed. Herman J. Selderhuis (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009), 499–500.

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in order to come to ourselves. The living, speaking, working past is the present… . No historian can be detached and not seriously seek and find himself or herself in history.”152 Barth’s interest in Calvin sparked another wave of scholarly engagement, which produced works on Calvin’s theology, his doctrines of faith, predestination, sin, christology, union with Christ, the Lord’s Supper, law and the state, eschatology, Scripture, and preaching.153 Characteristic of many of these works was the effort to discover the center of Calvin’s theology, plus Wilhelm Niesel and Peter Barth also contributed to the publication of the Opera Selecta of Calvin. Otto Weber (1902–66) produced a new German translation of Calvin’s Institutes (1936–38), François Wendel (1905–72) published his survey of Calvin’s theology (1950), John Allen translated the Institutes in 1949, and John T. McNeill offered another translation in 1960. Other numerous English-language works appeared, such as Randall Wallace’s work on Calvin’s doctrines of word and sacraments, T. F. Torrance’s work on his doctrine of man, and T. H. L. Parker’s and E. A. Dowey’s works on Calvin’s doctrine of the knowledge of God.154 In this wave of Calvin scholarship, Kuyper’s 1898 Stone Lectures on Calvinism should not be overlooked. Kuyper told his gathered audience: “In the philosophical sense, we understand by it [Calvinism] that system of conceptions which, under the influence of the master-mind of Calvin, raised itself to dominance in the several spheres of life.”155 In the minds of many, Calvin was the Reformed tradition’s seminal and definitive theologian. These works only scratch the surface but nevertheless amply illustrate the great interest in Calvin, which provides the backdrop and a contributing factor as to why twentieth-century critics of the pactum would appeal to Calvin and pit him against the later tradition. No other sixteenth-century Reformed theologian received as much attention as Calvin in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. This laser-beam focus on Calvin produced several theologically significant effects. First, it raised Calvin to a level of authority and influence that he did not possess in his own sixteenth-century context.156 Calvin was one second-generation Reformer among a host of others. And while Calvin certainly exercised

152 Karl Barth, The Theology of John Calvin, trans. G. W. Bromiley (1922; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995), 8. 153 Freudenberg, “Calvin’s Reception in the Twentieth Century,” 500–01. 154 Freudenberg, “Calvin’s Reception in the Twentieth Century,” 501–02. 155 Abraham Kuyper, Lectures on Calvinism (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1931), 14. 156 See Richard A. Muller, “Demoting Calvin: The Issue of Calvin and the Reformed Tradition,” in John Calvin, Myth and Reality: Images and Impact of Geneva’s Reformer, ed. Amy Nelson Burnett (Eugene: Cascade Books, 2009), 3–17; idem, “Reception and Response: Referencing and Understanding Calvin in Seventeenth-Century Calvinism,” in Calvin and His Influence, 1509–2009, ed. Irena Backus / Philip Benedict (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 182– 201.

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influence in the development of the tradition, his contemporaries often rejected his views. Zurich’s Heinrich Bullinger and the Second Helvetic Confession arguably exercised as much influence as Calvin’s Geneva.157 The Swiss canton of Bern at one point banned the works of Calvin in its city. Calvin could not persuade the other Swiss cantons to join him in his condemnation of Jerome Bolsec (d. 1585) and his doctrine of predestination.158 In the Bolsec controversy Calvin even earned the rebuke of Bullinger for expressing his views too strongly.159 Beyond Calvin, there were other influential theologians during the Reformation. Ursinus and Olevianus were the chief sources of the Heidelberg Catechism, which was one of the pillars of the Three Forms of Unity confessed by the Dutch Reformed Churches. Peter Martyr Vermigli (1499–1562) and Martin Bucer (1491–1551) labored in England and contributed to the composition of the Thirty-Nine Articles, one of the documentary sources for the Westminster Standards.160 Evidence of Calvin’s relative place in the tradition as viewed by his peers and subsequent fellow Reformed theologians appears in the infrequency with which his name surfaces in previous chapters of this study. It has only been in the analysis of twentieth-century critics of the pactum that his name has become prominent. Second, much twentieth-century Calvin scholarship suffers from historiographical errors. Have Dooyeweerd and Barth, for example, correctly analyzed the nature-grace dualism of Aquinas, and by connection is the exact same dualism present in the Reformed scholastics? 161 This begs a more fundamental question, namely, did Aquinas and the Reformed scholastics actually advocate a dualism with their respective understandings of nature and grace? Was Calvin’s theology free from the Aristotelian dualism that plagued his so-called followers? How did Calvin alone escape his own context, refuse to eat the forbidden fruit of pagan dualism, when virtually everyone else succumbed to temptation? On this particular point, even though Murray and Barth both appeal to Calvin, they do so in different ways. Barth claims that Calvin is free from the dualism but Murray argues that Calvin has the basic elements of what would later become the covenant of works.162 In other words, Murray finds the contagion in Calvin. So is the 157 See Philip Benedict, Christ’s Churches Purely Reformed: A Social History of Calvinism (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2002), 51–65. 158 D. G. Hart, Calvinism: A History (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2013), 20. 159 Cornelis P. Venema, “Heinrich Bullinger’s Correspondence on Calvin’s Doctrine of Predestination, 1551–53,” SCJ 4 (1986): 435–50. 160 Bendict, Christ’s Churches, 236–37. 161 See, e. g., R. J. Snell, “Thomism and Noetic Sin, Transposed: A Response to Neo-Calvinist Objections,” Philosophia Christi 12/1 (2010): 7–28; David VanDrunen, Divine Covenants and Moral Order: A Biblical Theology of Natural Law (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2014), 29–36, 525–33. 162 See Muller, After Calvin, 175–90.

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later tradition truly guilty of corruption? Was Calvin really a paradisiac island unto himself ? Another related historical-theological error is the ascription of theological content to the term scholasticism. Scholasticism, despite the protestations of theologians like Schilder, Hoeksema, Barth, Van Til, and Dooyeweerd, is a method of doing theology—that which was common to academic settings and often presented in a question and answer format. It carried with it no specific philosophical or theological commitments.163 Related to this is the problematic nature of the claims of Dooyeweerd and Van Til, for example, in that they make no references to primary sources—they never interact with Reformed scholastic theologians. They make claims about Aquinas, impose this analysis upon the rest of the tradition, from post-Calvin through Bavinck and Kuyper, and then offer their own alternative thesis. They write off virtually the whole post-Calvin tradition without citing any specific primary source evidence. These historical errors raise questions regarding the legitimacy of the criticisms against the pactum salutis. Did Reformed scholastic theologians engage in subtlety and hairsplitting? Was the covenant of works and, by extension, the covenant of redemption built upon the faulty foundation of an Aristotelian dualism? Does covenant theology need to be revised and recast due to its deficient definition of covenant? These questions go beyond the scope of the historical survey of the development and reception of the pactum salutis, but they should receive responses.164

6.4

Conclusion

The twentieth century marks a significant turning point in the reception of the pactum salutis. In the previous three centuries theologians enthusiastically embraced the doctrine as a bulwark against Remonstrant theology and as the key to understanding intra-trinitarian deliberations about soteriology. And, yes, at times scholastic distinctions did accumulate, but later generations, such as Hodge in the nineteenth-century, simply bypassed the terminological clutter 163 Richard A. Muller, “Scholasticism and Orthodoxy in the Reformed Tradition: An Attempt at Definition,” Inaugural Address (Grand Rapids: Calvin Seminary, 1995); idem, After Calvin, 25–46; idem, “Scholasticism, Reformation, Orthodoxy, and the Persistence of Christian Aristotelianism,” TrinJ 19NS (1998): 81–96. 164 See, e. g., Laurence O’Donnell, “‘Bavinck’s Bug’ or ‘Van Tilian’ Hypochondria? An Analsys of Prof. Oliphint’s Assertation that Cognitive Realism and Reformed Theology Are Incompatible,” in For The Healing of the Nations: Essays on Creation, Redemption, and NeoCalvinism, ed. Peter Escalante / W. Bradford Littlejohn (n. c.: The Davenant Trust, 2014), 139–72.

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without criticism of earlier formulations. And Hodge even expressed irenicism towards those who rejected the distinction between the covenants of redemption and grace—this flexibility appears most prominently in the difference of opinion between Charles and A. A. Hodge, the former embracing the pactum and the latter demurring from it. Why did some twentieth-century Reformed theologians bring strange and unauthorized fire to Reformed dogmatics? The convulsive and destructive events of World War I shook many to their core and made them reassess long held beliefs. Earlier received formulations were deemed insufficient. Combined with a renaissance in Calvin studies, the context was ripe for the rejection of the later tradition and produced a significant realignment. The definition of covenant was revised—for Murray it was a temporal and sovereign administration of God’s redemptive grace. For Hoeksema and Schilder the covenant was the very essence of intra-trinitarian life into which humanity had been created and the elect were in the process of being reincorporated. And for Barth Christ was the covenant, chosen as the one elect and rejected man. As diverse as their views are, they all share the same common elements: the rejection of the covenants of redemption and works, a redefined doctrine of the covenants, the adherence to one covenant, a dissatisfaction with the later tradition, the elevation of Calvin as the paradigmatic theologian, and in the case of Barth, Hoeksema, and Schilder, the conviction that the covenants of redemption and works were the result of scholasticism, the infusion of a pagan nature-grace dualism. But this rejection of the pactum does not reveal the whole story of the reception of the doctrine in the twentieth century. Another group of theologians who saw the Reformed scholastics as allies embraced and promoted the doctrine. We turn now to investigate the other side of the reception of the pactum in the twentieth century through the formulations of Bavinck, Berkhof, Kuyper, Vos, and Berkouwer.

7.

Twentieth-Century Proponents

7.1

Introduction

The story of the pactum salutis in the twentieth century would be incomplete if we merely explored the criticisms of those who rejected the doctrine. A number of prominent twentieth-century Reformed theologians also promoted it. Unlike the critics, who had a certain antipathy for Reformed scholasticism, proponents of the pactum were quite comfortable with their scholastic forbearers. The story of the promotion of the pactum in the twentieth century begins at the close of the nineteenth century with the theology of Abraham Kuyper (1837–1920), Herman Bavinck (1854–1921), and Geerhardus Vos (1862–1949). Their formulations fed into subsequent renditions of the doctrine in the theology of Louis Berkhof (1873–1957) and G. C. Berkouwer (1903–1996). Even though all of them advocated the doctrine, they, like theologians of earlier generations, were not in perfect agreement regarding its nature and implications. Issues such as the ordo salutis, justification from eternity, and the connection between the pactum and imputation dance around twentieth-century iterations of the doctrine and deserve exploration. Hence, this chapter will begin with an overview of the views of Kuyper, Bavinck, and especially Vos. The chapter will then trace the pactum in the theology of Berkhof and Berkouwer to illustrate briefly the reception of the doctrine in these two theologians, both of whom interact with Vos’s earlier work. The chapter will then proceed with an exploration of critical issues surrounding these different formulations of the pactum salutis, including the relationship between the pactum and ordo salutis, the priority of the forensic in the ordo, and the question of justification from eternity.

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Proponents of the pactum salutis

7.2.1 Vos, Kuyper, and Bavinck Even though an ocean separated Kuyper, Bavinck, and Vos, the former two living and working in the Netherlands and the latter in Grand Rapids, Michigan, and eventually Princeton, New Jersey, these three theologians were theological dialogue partners.1 Although Kuyper and Bavinck antedated Vos by some twenty years, they were all nevertheless writing about the pactum during roughly the same time frame at the turn of the century. And as counterintuitive as it might seem, the best place to begin appears to be with Vos, rather than the towering figures of Kuyper and Bavinck. These days Vos is well known as an influential figure and biblical theologian. Vos devoted the early part of his theological career to lecturing, not in biblical theology, but in dogmatics. It was not until he was called to serve at Princeton Theological Seminary and its newly founded chair of biblical theology that Vos refocused his attention to this new and burgeoning discipline. Vos’s lectures on dogmatics were recorded and published in two different formats, his larger five volume Dogmatiek and his smaller Compendium.2 In both tomes Vos treats the doctrine of the pactum under the locus of anthropology.3 Another important source for understanding Vos’s doctrine of the pactum is his inaugural lecture as professor at the Theological School of the Christian Reformed Church (later Calvin Theological Seminary) in 1891, a lecture on the history of the doctrine of the covenant in the Reformed tradition.4 Although a historical survey, the lecture also contains Vos’s own views on a number of subjects, including the pactum salutis. This lecture entered the theological stream and both Bavinck and Berkouwer caught and explicitly use it in their own explanations of the doctrine. Vos begins with the historical observation that there has been question regarding who, precisely, are the parties of the covenant of grace. Some, according to 1 George Harinck, “Geerhardus Vos and Introducer of Kuyper in America,” in The DutchAmerican Experience, ed. Hans Krabbendam / Larry J. Wagenaar (Amsterdam: VU Uitgeverij, 2000), 243–62; idem, “Herman Bavinck and Geerhardus Vos,” CTJ 45 (2010): 18–31. For biographical information on all three theologians, see Ransom Lewis Webster, “Geerhardus Vos (1862–1949): A Biographical Sketch,” WTJ 40/2 (1978): 304–17; James D. Bratt, Abraham Kuyper: Modern Calvinist, Christian Democrat (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2013); Ron Gleason, Herman Bavinck: Pastor, Churchman, Statesman, and Theologian (Phillipsburg: P & R, 2010). 2 Geerhardus Vos, Dogmatiek, 5 vols. (Grand Rapids: 1900); idem, Systematische Theologie: Compendium (Grand Rapids: 1900). 3 Vos, Dogmatiek, locus on Anthropology, I:86–95; idem, Systematische Theologie, chp. III, §§7– 19 (pp. 76–78). 4 Geerhardus Vos, “The Doctrine of the Covenant in Reformed Theology,” in Redemptive History and Biblical Interpretation: The Shorter Writings of Geerhardus Vos, ed. Richard B. Gaffin, Jr. (Phillipsburg: P & R, 1980), 234–67.

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Vos, believe that God and man are the two parties, while others hold that the Father, who represents the trinity, and Christ the mediator, who represents the elect, are the two parties.5 He does not mention it, but Vos possibly has in mind the tension that one finds in the Westminster Standards, noted and explained by Charles Hodge (1797–1898).6 This is a likely connection given that Vos wrote a letter to B. B. Warfield (1851–1921) and cited this very passage and also draws attention to this tension in the Westminster Standards in his inaugural lecture on the history of the covenant.7 As discussed previously, the Confession states that God makes the covenant of grace with “sinners” and offers life unto them by “Jesus Christ” (VII. iii), whereas the Larger Catechism states that God made the covenant of grace with “Christ as the Second Adam, and in Him with all the elect as his seed” (q. 31). Vos explains the apparent contradiction by appealing to the distinction between the covenant of redemption and the covenant of grace. In fact, Vos argues that the ordinary view since Johannes Cocceius (1603–69) has been to distinguish between the covenant of redemption, which is between the Father and the Son, and the covenant of grace, which is between God and the elect.8 To distinguish between these two covenants, however, was not originally Vos’s preference. Vos initially held to a position similar to that of A. A. Hodge (1823– 86), who merely distinguished between the eternal and temporal poles of the one covenant of grace.9 In a letter to Warfield, Vos indicates that he was following the pattern of the “Westminster Catechism” and Petrus Van Mastricht (1630–1706).10 Vos likely means the Westminster Shorter Catechism, which states: “God having, out of his mere good pleasure, from all eternity, elected some to everlasting life, did enter into a covenant of grace, to deliver them [sinners] out of the estate of sin and misery, and to bring them into an estate of salvation by a redeemer” (q. 20). Vos calls this construction an “eternal covenant of grace.”11 Vos nevertheless came under “attack” in a Dutch newspaper, De Wachter, for holding this view. He did not believe that there was any material difference between his own view and what he terms the “more common one which speaks of a covenant of redemption as eternal and a covenant of grace in time, founded on the former.” Vos cites 5 Vos, Systematische Theologie, III.7 (p. 76). 6 Charles Hodge, Systematic Theology, 3 vols. (rep.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993), II:358–59. 7 Geerhardus Vos, “To B. B. Warfield, 7 July 1891,” in The Letters of Geerhardus Vos, ed. James T. Dennison, Jr. (Phillipsburg: P & R, 2005), 160–64; idem, “Covenant in Reformed Theology,” 253. Warfield does not directly address the doctrine of the pactum salutis in his work, though he does assume the it (B. B. Warfield, The Lord of Glory: A Study of the Designations of Our Lord in the New Testament with Especial Reference to His Deity [New York: American Tract Society, 1907], 237–38). 8 Vos, Systematische Theologie, III.7 (p. 76). 9 Cf. A. A. Hodge, Outlines of Theology (1860; Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1991), 369–70. 10 Vos, “To Warfield,” 160. 11 Vos, “To Warfield,” 160.

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Charles Hodge to support his point, which was a reference to the latter’s irenicism towards those who did not distinguish between the pactum and the covenant of grace.12 In Vos’s analysis, his critics were not objecting so much to the idea that there was one eternal covenant of grace. Rather, they objected to the idea that, if there was no distinction between the pactum and covenant of grace, election was consequently coextensive with the covenant. Moreover, only to affirm the existence of the one covenant of grace left no room for important doctrinal truths typically treated under the categories of the covenants of redemption and works. Vos offers a number of objections in response to his critics, which would take us far afield from matters pertaining to the pactum. Nevertheless, what is of greater interest is that Vos was willing to modify his formulation: “For myself I would not insist upon making the covenant of grace eternal as long as only the form of my statement is objected to. I believe that the scheme of an eternal covenant is more systematic and finds not a little to support it in Scripture. But in order to show that I did not intend anything new or uncommon, I have of late returned to the other way of assuming two covenants.”13 Vos modified his formulation and embraced the distinction between the pactum and the covenant of grace, though he obviously did not think there was much to divide him from those who promoted one eternal covenant of grace. In his articulation of the two distinct covenants Vos maintains that the pactum is the covenant between the Father and the Son and that the covenant of grace is the commitment (verbintenis) between the offended God and the sinner where the former promises salvation through faith in Christ and the sinner accepts this by faith.14 The distinction between the two covenants is, in Vos’s mind, twofold. First, the pactum is the “eternal pattern” (eeuwig voorbeeld) for the temporal covenant of grace. And second, the pactum is the “eternal foundation” for the application of the covenant of grace.15 Vos then enters into a survey of the scriptural evidence in favor of the pactum salutis. In contrast to earlier proponents, such as Cocceius, Vos did not believe that Zechariah 6:13 could legitimately be enlisted as support for the pactum. He did believe, however, that the term council of peace could be maintained because it accurately captures the teaching of Scripture concerning the nature of the

12 Vos, “To Warfield,” 160; cf. Hodge, Systematic Theology, II:357. 13 Vos, “To Warfield,” 161. 14 Vos, Systematische Theologie, V.18 (p. 78): “De genadige verbintenis tusschen den beleedigden God en den beleedigenden zondaar, waarin God de zaligheid belooft in den weg des geloofs in Christus en de zondaar dit geloovig aanneemt.” I am grateful to Maarten Kuivenhoven for checking my translations of Vos’s Compendium. 15 Vos, Systematische Theologie, V.19 (p. 78).

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pactum.16 Beyond the disputed Zechariah text, Vos appeals to the gospel of John, where Christ speaks of his need to accomplish the mission that he received from the Father ( John 17:4). He also notes that Christ’s work was ordained by way of a covenant (Luke 22:29). To this end he also cites Isaiah 42:6, “I am the Lord; I have called you in righteousness; I will take you by the hand and keep you; I will give you as a covenant for the people, a light for the nations.” Moreover, Christ calls God “his God,” which indicates that the Father and Son are in a covenant relationship.17 Vos then explains the requirements of the counsel of peace as well as its promises. Under the requirements, or demands, Vos lists three things. First, Christ would be the down payment for the elect and therefore assume human nature and perform the work of mediator; this is true even under the Old Testament. Second, as guarantor, Christ would offer his obedience to secure eternal life for the elect. And third, Christ would ensure that all of the elect would enter into the covenant of grace, not only legally, but also enlivened by the Holy Spirit.18 Vos then spells out the five promises of the pactum. First, Christ would receive everything that belonged to a human nature. Second, he would exercise his office according to his human nature and would be anointed with the Holy Spirit. Third, in order to accomplish his work, he would be strengthened and comforted. Fourth, Christ would be raised from a state of humiliation. And, fifth, Christ would receive the Holy Spirit for the creation of his body, the church, and for the implementation of the covenant of grace after his ascension.19 One of the chief elements in Vos’s understanding of the pactum is Christ’s role as covenant surety. He notes that the term egnnous, or surety, only occurs in Hebrews 7:22, though he argues that the terms mediator or guarantor also have the same basic meaning. The surety is one who unites two separate parties, but more specifically, the surety unites the parties by meeting the legal requirements for one party to satisfy the other, which means that the surety is the guarantor on their behalf.20 Vos then distinguishes the two aspects of Christ’s work as guarantor: the intercession of suretiship and penalty. He argues that Christ’s intercession of suretiship (Middelaarschap van den Borgtocht) originates in the council of peace. Vos has in view the imputation of Christ’s righteousness. By contrast, Christ’s intercession of penalty (Middelaarschap der toebrenging) is applied to the sinner at the moment of his regeneration.21 All of these elements led Vos to define the pactum in the following manner: “The Council of Peace is the agreement between the will of the Father in giving 16 17 18 19 20 21

Vos, Systematische Theologie, V.8 (p. 76). Vos, Systematische Theologie, V.9 (p. 76). Vos, Systematische Theologie, V.10 (p. 76). Vos, Systematische Theologie, V.11 (pp. 76–77). Vos, Systematische Theologie, V.12 (p. 77). Vos, Systematische Theologie, V.13 (p. 77).

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the Son to be the head and savior of the elect, and the will of the Son himself making the claim as Guarantor.”22 Important to note is that Vos distinguishes between the decree of predestination and the pactum. He asks whether the pactum is the same as the decree, to which he responds, no. The pactum is implementation of the decree of predestination.23 Vos employed this distinction to maintain the trinitarian nature of redemption and also to preserve the christological character of the pactum. “Although this covenant of redemption may now be included in God’s counsel,” writes Vos, “in that it operates within the Trinity, it should still not be confused with predestination.”24 Vos maintains that the trinity determines the decree and then proceeds to execute it: In predestination the divine persons act communally, while economically it is attributed to the Father. In the covenant of redemption they are related to one another judicially. In predestination there is the one, undivided, divine will. In the counsel of peace this will appears as having its own mode of existence in each person. One cannot object to this on the basis of the unity of God’s being. To push unity so strongly that the persons can no longer be related to one another judicially would lead to Sabellianism and would undermine the reality of the entire economy of redemption with its person to person relationships.25

Though he does not use the term, Vos promotes the idea that the consilium Dei, which produces the decree of election, is wholly trinitarian and also yields the pactum. Vos specifically cites the formulations of John Owen (1616–83) and Wilhelmus á Brakel (1635–1711) as examples of this consilium Dei-pactum salutis construction.26 Á Brakel answers the objection of how the unity of the will of God can accommodate a covenant transaction, something that presupposes two different wills to constitute an agreement. Does this not divide the godhead? Á Brakel does not invoke the term but asks whether this causes the specter of tritheism to rise. Á Brakel writes: “As far as the Personhood is concerned the Father

22 Vos, Systematische Theologie, V.14 (p. 77): “De Raaddes Vredes is de overeenkomst tusschen den wil des Vaders, gevende den Zoon tot een Hoofd en verlosser der uitverkorenen, en den wil des Zoons, zich zelven voor hen stellende tot een Borg.” 23 Vos, Systematische Theologie, V.17 (p. 77). 24 Vos, “Covenant in Reformed Theology,” 246. 25 Vos, “Covenant in Reformed Theology,” 246. 26 John Owen, “Exercitation XXVIII: Federal Transactions Between the Father and the Son,” in The Works of John Owen, vol. 19, ed. William H. Goold (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1862), 77–97; Wilhelmus á Brakel, The Christian’s Reasonable Service, 4 vols., trans. Bartel Elshout (Morgan: Soli Deo Gloria, 1992), I:211–63, esp. 252; idem, Logike latreia, dat is, Redelijke Godsdienst in welken de Goddelijke waarheden van het Genade-Verbond worden kerklaert, tegen partyen beschermt, en tot de practyke aengedrongen: als mede de bedeelinge des verbondts in het O.T. ende het N. T., 3 vols. (Rotterdam: Henrick van den Aak, 1757), VI–VII (vol. I, pp. 168–215), esp. VII.iii (p. 205).

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is not the Son and the Son is not the Father. From this consideration the one divine will can be viewed from a twofold perspective. It is the Father’s will to redeem by agency of the second Person as Surety, and it is the will of the Son to redeem by His own agency as Surety.”27 Vos and Kuyper indirectly dialogue on this particular question, namely, How can one account for a two-sided agreement between the Father and Son who share one will? Kuyper, unlike later twentieth-century critics, believed that theologians were entirely justified to carry the covenant (foedus) concept into the divine intratrinitarian life. He argued that the transient work of the godhead in salvation was common to all three persons and could be explained by the federal relationship among Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Kuyper believed that the pactum involved all three members of the trinity, not merely the Father and the Son.28 Kuyper, however, was sensitive to the question of whether the pactum necessarily introduced tritheism into the doctrine of God.29 Kuyper was concerned that introducing a deliberative process into the godhead might somehow divide God’s unitary will. Kuyper therefore argued that the pactum was part of God’s necessary essence.30 Herman Hoeksema (1886–1965) and Klaas Schilder (1890–1952) offered a similar construction in their revision of the pactum.31 According to Willem Van Asselt, Vos specifically presented his construction of the relationship between the consilium Dei and pactum salutis in response to Kuyper’s formulation.32 Beyond matters related to the question of tri-theism, Vos delves briefly into the issue of whether Christ was an absolute or conditional surety. Was he expromissor (unconditional and immediate) or fideiussor (conditional and provisional)? These terms originate in the debate that transpired between Cocceius and Gisbert Voetius (1589–1676) regarding the status of OT saints prior to the incarnation of Christ.33 27 Á Brakel, Christian’s Reasonable Service, I.252; idem, Redelijke Godsdienst, VII.iii (vol. I, p. 205). 28 Abraham Kuyper, Dictaten Dogmatiek: collegedictaat van een der studenten, vol. 3, Locus de Providentia, Peccato, Foedere, Christo, 2nd ed. (Kampen: Stoomdrukkerij van J. H. Kok, n. d.), § V, 90; J. Mark Beach, “The Doctrine of the Pactum Salutis in the Covenant Theology of Herman Witsius,” MAJT 13 (2002): 116. 29 Kuyper, Dictaten Dogmatiek, §V, 89; G. C. Berkouwer, Divine Election (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1960), 163. 30 Abraham Kuyper, De Leer der Verbonden (Kampen: J. H. Kok, 1909), 18–19; Berkouwer, Divine Election, 168. 31 Herman Hoeksema, Reformed Dogmatics (1963; Grand Rapids: Reformed Free Publishing Association, 1985), 285–336, esp. 321–22; Klaas Schilder, Heidelbergsche Catechismus (Goes: Oosterbaan & Le Cointre, 1947–51), I:382–83. 32 Willem J. van Asselt, The Federal Theology of Johannes Cocceius (1603–69) (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 232–33. 33 Willem J. van Asselt, “Expromissio or Fideiussio? A Seventeenth-Century Theological Debate Between Voetians and Cocceians about the Nature of Christ’s Suretyship in Salvation History,” MAJT 14 (2003): 37–57.

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Did they experience and know the same type of forgiveness as New Testament saints? Vos observes: “The Cocceians said that Christ was fideiussor because believers in the Old Testament had not received full justification by Christ’s satisfaction as they did not have aphesis, remission, but only paresis, transmittance. This is according to Romans 3:25.” But Vos was not persuaded by this argumentation and instead affirms, “Christ was expromissor and guarantor.”34 The question of Bavinck’s view of the pactum deserves attention because he is, after all, one of the great towering theological figures of the twentieth century. The publication of his four-volume system of theology certainly established Bavinck’s reputation as a theologian, and given the size of his system one might expect a larger treatment of the pactum than he offered. Bavinck only dwells on the subject for some four pages in the English edition.35 Like train tracks that run throughout a city linking its seemingly disparate parts, however, the pactum is interwoven throughout his theology.36 Like Vos, he formulates the relationship between the consilium Dei and the pactum in a similar fashion. Bavinck details his understanding of the relationship between the consilium Dei and the pactum, not in his Reformed Dogmatics per se, but in his shorter, popular work, Magnalia Dei (ET Our Reasonable Faith). He explains that there are three parts of the council of God (raad Gods): (1) election, (2) the council of redemption (the pactum salutis), and (3) the application of the salvation wrought by Christ.37 This is Bavinck’s way, like Vos’s, of including the whole trinity in the planning and execution of redemption.38 But unlike Vos, who argues that the pactum is between the Father and Son, Bavinck includes the Holy Spirit: “The counsel of redemption is itself a covenant—a covenant in which each of the three Persons, so to speak, receives His own work and achieves His own task.”39 Bavinck 34 Vos, Systematische Theologie, V.15 (p. 77): “De Coccejanen zeiden, dat de Christus Fidejussor was geworden, dat dus de geloovigen van het O. Test. Tot op de voldoening van Christus gene volle rechtvaardiging haaden gehad, gene Aphesis, kwijtschelding, maar slechts een Paresis, doorlating. Dit op grond van Rom. 3:25. Het jusite en algemeen aangenomen gevoelen is, dat Christu, Expromissor Borg is geworden.” 35 Herman Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, 4 vols., trans. John Vriend, ed. John Bolt (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2005–09), III.212–16. 36 For overviews of Bavinck’s doctrine of the pactum, see Laurence O’Donnell, “Not Subtle Enough: An Assessment of Modern Scholarship on Herman Bavinck’s Reformulation of the Pactum Salutis Contra ‘Scholastic Subtlety,’” MAJT 22 (2011): 89–106; Mark Jones, “Covenant and Christology: Herman Bavinck and the Pactum Salutis,” in Five Studies in the Thought of Herman Bavinck, A Creator of Modern Dutch Theology, ed. John Bolt (Lewiston: Edwin Mellen Press, 2011), 129–52. 37 Herman Bavinck, Our Reasonable Faith, trans. Henry Zylstra (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1956), 266–68; idem, Magnalia Dei: Onderwijzing in de Christelijke Religie – naar Gereformeerde Belijdenis (Kampen: J. H. Kok, 1909), 296–98. 38 Bavinck, Reasonable Faith, 269–70. 39 Bavinck, Reasonable Faith, 273.

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summarizes these points quite succinctly in his Dogmatics when he argues that the various covenants in redemptive history (works [Adam], nature [Noah], grace [elect]) have a “stable, eternal foundation in the counsel of God.” He conceives of this counsel as a covenant among the three persons in the divine being itself and calls it the pactum salutis, counsel of peace, or the covenant of redemption.40 In a similar vein as Kuyper, Bavinck argues that the “pact of salvation makes known to us the relationships and life of the three persons in the Divine Being as a covenantal life, a life of consummate self-consciousness and freedom.” Unlike land grant covenants (διαθηκη), which are sovereignly administered according to Bavinck, the covenant of redemption is truly a pact (συνθηκη), an agreement among equals.41 Vos and Bavinck share a similar consilium Dei – pactum structure, where the former produces the latter, but they differ in that for Vos the pactum is between the Father and Son, whereas for Bavinck it is an agreement among all three members of the trinity. This difference aside, there are other similarities between the two theologians, and even evidence that Bavinck relied upon the work of Vos at certain points. Like Vos, Bavinck believed that the pactum is the eternal foundation for the covenant of grace. The eternal intra-trinitarian covenant is the foundation for the temporal execution of the covenant of grace.42 Bavinck writes: “The counsel of redemption, fixed in eternity, and the covenant of grace with which man is acquainted immediately after the fall, and which is then set up, stand in the closest relationships with each other. They are so closely related that the one stands or falls with the other.”43 The covenant of grace is the “actualization” of the pactum.44 The pactum is the “principle, the motivating power, and the guarantee of the work of redemption in time.”45 Vos’s fingerprints, however, appear at several places in Bavinck’s explanation of the pactum.46 Both Vos and Bavinck identify the origins of the pactum in the work of Caspar Olevianus (1536–87), though it is entirely possible that both obtained this idea from either Gottlob Schrenk or Heinrich Heppe (1820–79). Bavinck also cites Vos’s inaugural lecture on the history of the covenant.47 Another similarity is that both theologians emphasize the divine freedom and dipleuric aspects of the pactum. Vos, for example, writes: “For it is only in the triune Being that the perfect 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47

Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, III:212–13. Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, III:214–15. Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, III:215. Bavinck, Reasonable Faith, 272. Bavinck, Reasonable Faith, 273. Bavinck, Reasonable Faith, 270. The following comparison is drawn from O’Donnell, “Not Subtle Enough,” 100–01. O’Donnell, “Not Subtle Enough,” 97–98; Vos, “Covenant in Reformed Theology,” 248; Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, III:210 n. 32; idem, Dogmatiek, vol. 3 (Kampen: J. H. Box, 1898), 200.

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freedom dominates which the covenant idea appears to demand. Here the covenant is completely two-sided.”48 And Bavinck, as noted above, argues that a covenant is typically a sovereign grant (διαθηκη), whereas the pactum is truly a συνθηκη: “The greatest freedom and the most perfect agreement coincide.”49 Both theologians argue that the pactum embodies the “Reformed principle” that the entire work of redemption is completely of God.50 Another point of similarity is their argument that the ordo salutis is grounded in the pactum. Vos writes: “For the Reformed, therefore, the entire ordo salutis, beginning with regeneration as its first stage, is bound to the mystical union with Christ. There is no gift that has not been earned by Him. Neither is there a gift that is not bestowed by Him that does not elevate God’s glory through His bestowal. Now the basis for this order lies in none other than in the covenant of salvation with Christ [i. e., the pactum salutis].”51 Bavinck similarly observes: “This pact of salvation, however, further forms the link between the eternal work of God toward salvation and what he does to that end in time. The covenant of grace revealed in time does not hang in the air but rests on an eternal, unchanging foundation. It is firmly grounded in the counsel and covenant of the triune God and is the application and execution of it that infallibly follows.”52 So though there are some slight differences between Vos and Bavinck, most notably in Vos’s christological versus Bavinck’s trinitarian pactum formulation, they both nonetheless share the same 1. consilium-pactum construction 2. understanding of the history of the doctrine 3. emphasis upon divine freedom and dipleuric nature of the pactum 4. arrangement between predestination and the pactum 5. emphasis upon grounding the ordo salutis in the pactum. These points of similarity suggest that Bavinck not only appropriated elements of but was influenced by Vos’s inaugural lecture. Bavinck was not slavish, as his differences with Vos indicate, but the similarities do suggest that Vos was influential as a systematic theologian, not merely as a biblical theologian. Vos’s influence was not restricted to Bavinck, but also stretches further into the twentieth century in the theology of Berkhof and Berkouwer.

48 49 50 51 52

Vos, “Covenant in Reformed Theology,” 246. Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, III:214–15. Vos, “Covenant in Reformed Theology,” 247; Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, III:215. Vos, “Covenant in Reformed Theology,” 248. Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, III:215.

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7.2.2 Berkhof and Berkouwer Berkhof is familiar to many through his Systematic Theology, one of the most used theology textbooks in the twentieth century. In fact, in 1957, H. Henry Meeter (1886–1963) listed Calvin Theological Seminary, Fuller Theological Seminary, Columbia Theological Seminary, Louisville Theological Seminary, Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, Gordon Divinity School, Gordon College of Theology and Missions, Western Theological Seminary, Erskine College and Theological Seminary, Northeastern Bible Institute, Providence-Barrington Bible College, Bob Jones University, and Moody Bible Institute, as institutions that used Berkhof ’s Systematic Theology as a textbook.53 While many recognize Berkhof as a prominent Reformed theologian, however, few have given thought to the theologians that influenced his theology. Two figures stand out in particular: Vos and Bavinck. Vos was one of Berkhof ’s professors at Princeton, and Berkhof himself acknowledged that Vos was key in his own theological development.54 In fact, Berkhof noted that among all of his professors at Princeton, he considered Vos and Warfield the most influential. Berkhof said that he owed more to Vos than any other theologian for his understanding of Reformed theology.55 Bavinck was another key influence upon Berkhof, especially in the composition of his own Systematic Theology. Berkhof himself admitted in his Introduction to Systematic Theology that he followed the plan and outline of Bavinck’s earlier Gereformeerde Dogmatiek. He also repeated Bavinck’s arguments at key points.56 So both Vos and Bavinck provide a helpful backdrop in the examination of Berkhof ’s understanding of the pactum salutis. Berkhof treats the pactum under the broader category of the doctrine of God, not under anthropology (Vos) or soteriology (Bavinck). So in this respect, Berkhof exhibits a degree of independence.57 But hereinafter the similarities between Berkhof and Vos begin to emerge. In particular, there are strong parallels between Vos’s Compendium and Berkhof ’s treatment. Like Vos, Berkhof begins with a brief history of the doctrine in which he explains the different views, namely, who are the parties of the covenant of grace. Berkhof, like Vos, even invokes the name of Cocceius.58 To be sure, Berkhof is more expansive in his history and cites other names, such as Thomas Boston (1676–1732), Adam Gib (1714–88), and Kuyper 53 Henry Zwaanstra, “Louis Berkhof,” in Reformed Theology in America: A History of Its Modern Development, ed. David F. Wells (1989; repr.; Grand Rapids: Baker, 1998), 153 n. 7. 54 See Richard Muller’s preface in Louis Berkhof, Systematic Theology: New Combined Edition (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996), vii. 55 Zwaanstra, “Louis Berkhof,” 138. 56 Zwaanstra, “Louis Berkhof,” 148–49. 57 Berkhof, Systematic Theology, 265. 58 Cf. Berkhof, Systematic Theology, 265; Vos, Systematische Theologie, V.7 (p. 76).

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and his sons. Among the advocates of the pactum, however, he mentions Van Mastricht, Johannes Marckius (1656–1731), Francis Turretin (1623–87), Herman Witsius (1636–1708), Heppe, the Hodges, W. G. T. Shedd (1820–94), Vos, and Bavinck. Berkhof then quotes from Hodge, indicating his familiarity with the Princetonian’s views, which likely manifests traces of Berkhof ’s Princeton education.59 In comparison to Vos’s Compendium, Berkhof offers greater detail and exegetical information in support of the doctrine. He follow’s Vos’s outline but significantly expands it. But at key points they make parallel observations, such as rejection of Zechariah 6:13 as a proof text. Both Berkhof and Vos observe that the idea of the pactum salutis is scriptural but this text does not speak of it.60 In the following sections, Berkhof continues to follow Vos’s outline by treating the Son’s work in terms of his role as covenant surety and, like Vos, even delves into the Cocceius-Voetius debate regarding the salvation of OT saints, in terms of Christ as fideiussor or expromissor.61 Parallels between the two theologians persist especially in Berkhof ’s sections on the demands and promises of the counsel of peace.62 The two sections are not perfectly identical, but the overall structure is the same. Like Vos, Berkhof concludes with a section on the relationship between the pactum and covenant of grace. There are some striking parallels at this point:63 Vos The covenant of peace is the eternal pattern of the temporal covenant of grace. The covenant of peace is the eternal foundation of the application of the covenant of grace.

Berkhof The counsel of redemption is the eternal prototype of the historic covenant of grace. The counsel of redemption is the firm and eternal foundation of the covenant of grace. The counsel of redemption consequently also gives efficacy to the covenant of grace, for in it the means are provided for the establishment and execution of the latter.

What Vos lists in two points, Berkhof presents in three, but he nevertheless communicates the same ideas. The last parallel between the two theologians appears in how they both define the pactum:64

59 60 61 62 63 64

Berkhof, Systematic Theology, 265; Hodge, Systematic Theology, II:358. Berkhof, Systematic Theology, 266–67; Vos, Systematische Theologie, V.8–9 (p. 76). Berkhof, Systematic Theology, 267; Vos, Systematische Theologie, V.12–13, 15 (pp. 77–78). Berkhof, Systematic Theology, 267–71; Vos, Systematische Theologie, V.10–11 (pp. 76–77). Vos, Systematische Theologie, V.19 (p. 78); Berkhof, Systematic Theology, 271. Vos, Systematische Theologie, V.14 (p. 77); Berkhof, Systematic Theology, 271.

Proponents of the pactum salutis

Vos The Council of Peace is the agreement between the will of the Father in giving the Son to be the head and savior of the elect, and the will of the Son himself making the claim as Guarantor.

217 Berkhof The covenant of redemption may be defined as the agreement between the Father, giving the Son as Head and Redeemer of the elect, and the Son, voluntarily taking the place of those whom the Father had given Him.

Both Vos and Berkhof advocate the christological model of the pactum, which means that Berkhof was unpersuaded by Bavinck’s arguments for a trinitarian model. These parallels demonstrate that Berkhof leaned heavily upon Vos’s theology, which seems natural since Vos was his professor. A similar pattern unfolds in Berkouwer’s explanation of the pactum. Given his place in history, it should come as no surprise that Berkouwer interacts with Bavinck, Kuyper, Schilder, Heppe, Vos, and Barth, among others.65 Berkouwer was aware that theologians characterized the pactum as “speculation and scholasticism.”66 He also closely followed Vos’s inaugural lecture and noted the dangers of tri-theism and even Schilder’s criticism’s of applying human conventions (covenant-making) to God, i. e., projecting human ways upon God. Nevertheless, Berkouwer observes: “It cannot be denied, however, that in the doctrine of the pactum salutis a deeply religious motif lies embedded.”67 From this point Berkouwer then launches into his positive construction of the doctrine, which begins with citation and appeal to Vos’s inaugural lecture. Like Vos and Bavinck, Berkouwer locates the earliest expression of the doctrine with Olevianus. Citing Vos favorably, Berkouwer notes that the doctrine did not originate with abstract speculation about the decree. Rather, Reformed theologians sought to explain the nature of Christ’s role as mediator.68 In fact, on this point Berkouwer registers his disagreement with Kuyper, who believed that Reformed theologians had projected human covenantal activity upon the intratrinitarian relationship.69 Berkouwer pushes back and argues: We must insist that Reformed theology did not arrive at the doctrine of the pactum salutis in this way, but rather from the message of Scripture regarding the inscrutable relationship between the Father and the Son in the truly unfathomable humiliation of the Servant of the Lord. Man will always lose himself in analogies. He must keep a constant and watchful eye on this mystery, for only then will the doctrine of the pactum salutis truly touch upon the profoundest mystery of the gospel, and not be merely a construction of man’s thought. Speaking dogmatically, we must delimit the boundaries 65 66 67 68

Berkouwer, Divine Election, 162–71. Berkouwer, Divine Election, 162. Berkouwer, Divine Election, 164. Berkouwer, Divine Election, 165; cf. Vos, “Covenant in Reformed Theology,” 245. Note, Berkouwer cites and quotes the Dutch edition of Vos’s lecture (Geerhardus Vos, De Verbondsleer in de Gereformeerde Theologie [Rotterdam: Mazijk’s Uit – geversbureau, 1939]). 69 Berkouwer, Divine Election, 168; Kuyper, De Leer der Verbonden, 10.

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of the analogy in order to indicate in the concept of the pactum that reality of the work of redemption which has its foundation in the union of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit: the mystery of the Servant of the Lord.70

Berkouwer’s point, contra Kuyper, is that the pactum is a revealed doctrine and not an anthropological projection upon the trinity. Again, in agreement with Vos but in contrast to Bavinck, Berkouwer observes that the reason there is no mention of the Holy Spirit in the pactum is because the focus is upon the constitutio mediatoris, the appointment of the mediator, which is a role for Christ, not the Holy Spirit.71 He is fully aware of what he calls the dipleuric (or christological) and tripleuric (or trinitarian) constructions of the pactum, which he also calls the christological and pneumatological interpretations. He opts for the former, though he maintains that the latter is not opposed to it. He notes, for example, that whenever attention focuses upon the economic subordination of the Son, or the constitutio mediatoris, the manumission of the Spirit is always implied inseparably with Christ’s incarnation. Berkouwer observes, however, “There has been no attempt to parallelism by placing the inhabitatio Spiritus Sancti alongside of the incarnation as a humiliation.”72 In other words, in the pactum the Son agrees to be sent and enter a state of humiliation, which is constitutive of his role as mediator and surety. But Scripture does not characterize the Spirit’s accompanying work in the incarnation and ministry of Christ as a humiliation. This appears to be one of the key reasons why Berkouwer opts for the christological model. So Vos’s theology of the pactum lies at the core of Berkouwer’s own doctrine. This is not to say that Berkouwer’s doctrine is a precise parallel, or even bears the similarities that appear in Bavinck or Berkhof. There is nevertheless sufficient evidence from Berkouwer’s positive interaction, citation, and quotation of him to conclude that Vos influenced Berkouwer’s formulation. And we can observe thus far, at least in terms of the articulation and reception of the doctrine, that Vos’s influence in the twentieth century has largely gone unnoticed. Bavinck and Kuyper probably garner the lion’s share of attention, or at least of perceived influence, but yet here is Vos, the noted biblical theologian, making quite an impact in the arena of systematic theology. Questions regarding Vos’s influence, however, do not end with the articulation and reception of the doctrine but also expand into other related areas.

70 Berkouwer, Divine Election, 169–70. 71 Berkouwer, Divine Election, 165 n. 67. 72 Berkouwer, Divine Election, 170 n. 80.

Critical Issues

7.3

219

Critical Issues

Three critical issues arise in relationship to the aforementioned formulations of the pactum salutis. These three issues are logically interconnected: (1) the relationship between the ordo and pactum salutis, (2) the priority of the forensic in the ordo salutis, and (3) the question of justification from eternity.

7.3.1 The ordo salutis The first critical issue concerns the relationship between the ordo salutis and the pactum. In one sense this issue has always implicitly been connected to the pactum from the very first iterations of the doctrine. In his 1638 speech to the Scottish Kirk’s general assembly David Dickson (1583–1663) brought the pactum to bear against Remonstrant theology.73 One of the key points of contention between Reformed and Remonstrant theologians was whether regeneration preceded faith. In other words, is salvation monergistic or synergistic? This is a question related to the ordo salutis and Dickson sought to ground the monergistic nature of redemption in the pactum, which transpired in eternity prior to the creation of the world. And as noted above, Vos contended that the entire ordo salutis was grounded in the pactum: The basis for this order lies in none other than in the covenant of salvation with Christ. In this covenant those chosen by the Father are given to Christ. In it He became the guarantor so that they would be planted into His body in order to live in the thoughtworld of grace through faith. As the application of salvation by Christ and by Christ’s initiative is a fundamental principle of Reformed theology, this theology has correctly viewed this application as a covenantal requirement which fell to the Mediator and for the fulfilling of which He became the guarantor.74

Vos’s point is that every benefit of salvation comes through union with Christ, a union that was conceived and determined in the pactum. Christ’s role as surety is key in Vos’s mind. But Vos is not content merely to draw a line from history back into eternity and to say that salvation has an eternal foundation in the godhead, as true as this might be. Rather, Vos elsewhere notes that God reveals himself supremely in Christ and covenant.75 In this regard, the covenant of redemption does not stand 73 David Dickson, “Arminianism Discussed,” in Records of the Kirk of Scotland, containing the Acts and Proceedings of the General Assemblies, from the Year 1638 Downwards, ed. Alexander Peterkin (Edinburgh: Peter Brown, 1845), 156–58. 74 Vos, “Covenant in Reformed Theology,” 248. 75 Geerhardus Vos, “The Idea of Biblical Theology as a Science and as a Theological Discipline,” in Redemptive History and Biblical Interpretation: The Shorter Writings of Geerhardus Vos,

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in isolation from the economy of salvation. Rather, the pactum is the covenantal basis for redemption. Vos links the trinity, covenant of redemption, and economy of salvation—the trinitarian processions and missions lie at the heart of the ordo and shape it. The pactum is the great prelude that resounds from eternity in our own time as we listen to the “pure tones of the psalm of grace.” Vos writes: Because God has from the beginning set Himself to give love and faithfulness as a man to his friend, and because by the Son of His good pleasure He has committed Himself covenantally to the restoration of the violated faithfulness, so the application of this covenantal salvation will have to proceed along the same lines. The covenant of redemption is the pattern for the covenant of grace. However, it is more than that. It is also the effective cause for carrying through the latter.76

When Vos states that the “application of this covenantal salvation,” i. e., the ordo salutis, “proceeds along the same lines,” he puts forth idea that the ordo traces the trinitarian processions and missions. The place where Vos develops this idea in greater detail appears in one of his lesser-known works, The Self-Disclosure of Jesus.77 In a chapter on the Son of God, Vos distinguishes between the “sequence in the sphere of being and the sequence in the sphere of revelation.” He argues that the order cannot be the same in both spheres. Rather, Vos writes: “That which is the outcome of the higher naturally appears in history as the medium for the disclosure of that higher thing, and consequently appears earlier in time.”78 If we change Vos’s terminology, his point is that the economic trinity appears in history prior to the knowledge of the ontological trinity. Or, stated in other terms, we know of the trinitarian missions before we know of their eternal processions. To make his case Vos begins with the order in the sphere of being and states that the highest thing concerning Christ is his identity as the pre-temporal and pre-mundane status as the Son as the second person of the trinity in relation to the first. Scripture identifies the relationship between the first and second persons as that of Father and Son, whether in the Synoptics or in the Fourth Gospel. These names are not the imposition of foreign trinitarian dogma or metaphysical terminology but appear simply and clearly on the pages of holy writ. Vos argues that Christ’s identification as God’s Son makes him equal with the Father and he is therefore above all created beings. “To put the matter pointedly,” writes Vos, “without shunning even the semblance of paradox, we might say that this aspect

ed. Richard B. Gaffin, Jr. (Phillipsburg: P & R, 1980), 3–24; idem, Biblical Theology: Old and New Testaments (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1948), 15, 17. 76 Vos, “Covenant in Reformed Theology,” 252. 77 Geerhardus Vos, The Self-Disclosure of Jesus: The Modern Debate about the Messianic Consciousness, 2nd ed., ed. J. G. Vos (1926, 1953; Phillipsburg: P & R, n. d.). 78 Vos, Self-Disclosure, 189.

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of the sonship would have existed even if there had been no world, no man, no religion, no redemption and no Messiahship at all.”79 In other words, the Son is eternally the Son in terms of the ontological trinity, in terms of the intra-trinitarian processions. The Son’s procession naturally leads to his mission, which in this case means: “Our Lord’s eternal sonship qualifies Him for filling the office of Messiah.”80 Important to remember is that, in Vos’s view, the consilium Dei produces the pactum, in which God establishes the Messiah’s role as surety. Vos explains, therefore, that the Messianic sonship is not something separate from the eternal sonship—Jesus is not a son in two unrelated senses. Rather, “the Messianic sonship is simply the eternal sonship carried into a definite historical situation.”81 For Vos the structure for the pactum becomes historically manifest in the covenant of grace; the former is the eternal foundation for the latter. As such, Christ’s office as Messiah involves and requires the assumption of a human nature, another element of the pactum.82 When Vos turns to the sphere of revelation, he takes up the question of its order. In this sphere the Messianic sonship, not the eternal sonship, appears first. Vos draws upon a number of OT texts to make this point, including Isaiah 9:6, 2 Samuel 7, and Psalms 2, 89, and 110. These are all historically common proof texts for the pactum. Based upon this collection of texts, when Vos explains Christ’s Messianic office from the progressive unfolding of revelation throughout the Old Testament, the historical manifestation of Christ’s messianic office appears first, not his identity as the eternal Son of God. Nevertheless, the two are intertwined, and the higher (the sphere of being) determines the lower (the sphere of revelation). And in this case, as it relates to the ordo salutis, the higher (Christ’s pactum-constituted role as covenant surety) takes priority in salvation. This is because Christ’s intercession and suretiship (Middelaarschap van den Borgtocht) begins in the pactum.83 Moreover, even before Christ’s incarnation and the outpouring of the Spirit, he is expromissor—one who unconditionally and immediately takes over the sinner’s debt. Old Testament saints, therefore, receive the full forgiveness of sins before the incarnation.84

79 80 81 82 83 84

Vos, Self-Disclosure, 189–90. Vos, Self-Disclosure, 190. Vos, Self-Disclosure, 190. Vos, Self-Disclosure, 190. Vos, Systematische Theologie, V.13 (p. 77). Vos, Systematische Theologie, V.15 (p. 77).

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7.3.2 Priority of the forensic in the ordo salutis The relationship between the ordo and the pactum emerges in the question regarding the timing of imputation. In earlier formulations theologians distinguished between active and passive justification.85 This is a distinction Vos, Bavinck, and Berkhof employ. First, however, we must understand what Vos, Bavinck, and Berkhof have to say on justification and imputation as it relates to the pactum. Second, we will turn to Vos’s theology to explain the significance of this employed distinction. In terms of the timing of imputation, there are a number of formulations present in the tradition. Some argue that no one is justified until the actual moment of faith, and they distinguish between the decree to justify and its execution in time. This position appears in the Westminster Confession of Faith (XI.iv) and in Hodge’s formulation.86 A slightly different view appears in the work of Thomas Goodwin (1600–80), who argues for the tria momenta, or three moments, of justification.87 Based upon formulations that appear in the earlier work of William Ames (1576–1633), theologians argue that justification appears in the decree, in Christ’s work, and then in the application of redemption.88 This view was codified in the Savoy Declaration (1658), the Congregational version of the Westminster Confession. The Declaration states: “God did from all eternity decree to justify all the elect, and Christ did in the fulness of time die for their sins, and rise again for their justification: nevertheless, they are not justified personally, until the Holy Spirit doth in due time actually apply Christ unto them” (XI.iv; emphasis). Later formulations, such as those offered by Witsius, took matters a step further by employing the distinction between general and particular justi85 On the distinction between active and passive justification see Francis Turretin, Institutes of Elenctic Theology, 3 vols., ed. James T. Dennison, Jr., trans. George Musgrave Giger (Phillipsburg: P & R, 1992–97) XVI.ix.11; Herman Witsius, Economy of the Covenants Between God and Man: Comprehending a Complete Body of Divinity (1822; Escondido: Den Dulk Foundation, 1990), II.vii.16; Leonard Rijssen, Compendium Theologiae Didactico-Elencticae (Amsterdam: 1695), XIV (pp. 145–46); Johannes Marckius, Compendium Theologiae Christianae Didactico-Elencticum (1716; Amsterdam: 1749), XXII.xxiii, XXIV.iii; Bartholomäus Keckerman, Systema S. S. Theologiae (Hanau: 1602), III.vii.3; Johannes Heidegger, Corpus Theologiae (Tiguri: ex Officina Heideggeriana, 1732), XXII.lxxviii; cf. Heinrich Heppe, Reformed Dogmatics: Set Out and Illustrated from the Sources, trans. G. T. Thomson, ed. Ernst Bizer (London: George Allen & Unwin Ltd, 1950), 555–59 86 Hodge, Systematic Theology, III:104, 171. 87 Thomas Goodwin, Justifying Faith, in The Works of Thomas Goodwin, vol. 8 (1863; Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1985), 134–39; cf. Mark Jones, Why Heaven Kissed Earth: The Christology of the Puritan Reformed Orthodox theologian, Thomas Goodwin (1600–80) (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2010), 232–38; Carl R. Trueman, The Claims of Truth: John Owen’s Trinitarian Theology (Carlisle: Paternoster, 1998), 28. 88 William Ames, The Marrow of Theology ed. John D. Eusden (1968; Grand Rapids: Baker, 1997), I.xxviii.3.

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fication, which referred to Christ’s own personal justification as head of the elect and the justification of individual sinner. Witsius advocates a similar aspect of justification with the distinction between active and passive justification, which refers to the imputation of Christ’s righteousness in the pactum and its reception by faith respectively.89 Bavinck and Berkhof, perhaps partially alerted by Vos’s inaugural lecture, embraced the active-passive justification distinction. Bavinck, like Vos, writes: “Indeed, if it is true that the very first benefit of grace already presupposes communion with the person of Christ, then the imputation and granting of Christ to the church precedes everything else.” The imputation of Christ’s righteousness occurs in the pactum and Bavinck does not hesitate to state that, “this, in fact, is the Reformed teaching.” Bavinck’s assertion is slightly overstated and fails to recognize the diversity of opinion on the matter.90 Nevertheless, Bavinck argues that regeneration, faith, and conversion are not preparatory graces that come apart from Christ, nor are they pre-conditions that a person must meet. They are benefits that flow from the covenant of grace and union with Christ. “Hence,” writes Bavinck, “the imputation of Christ precedes the gift of the Spirit, and regeneration, faith, and conversion do not first lead us to Christ but are taken from Christ by the Holy Spirit and imparted to his own.”91 For Bavinck, like Vos, the processions, missions, and pactum, drive the ordo salutis. Bavinck is quite clear at this point: “Already in eternity an imputation of Christ to his own and of the church to Christ took place. Between them an exchange occurred, and a mystical union was formed that underlies their realization in history, indeed produces and leads them.”92 But Bavinck is clear, that he wants to avoid the error of teaching justification from eternity. He comments that when theologians debated these matters during the seventeenth-century antinomian controversies, “not one of them treated or completed justification in the locus of the counsel of God or the covenant of redemption, but they all brought it into the order of salvation, sometimes as active justification before and as passive justification after faith, or also completely after faith.”93 The basic point here is, according to Bavinck, in the pactum the trinity actively justifies elect sinners through the imputation of Christ’s righteousness. God does this because Christ is covenant surety and expromissor. Berkhof employs the same distinction in his own construction of justification, likely in reliance upon, or at least in agreement with, Bavinck’s formulation.94 Berkhof employs active 89 90 91 92 93 94

Witsius, Economy of the Covenants, III.viii.57–61. Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, IV:523. Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, IV:525. Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, IV:590. Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, IV:591. Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, IV:219–23.

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and passive justification. The former is objective and is God’s declaration that the sinner is righteous in his tribunal that the demands of the law have been met because Christ’s righteousness has been imputed to him. Active justification logically precedes faith. Passive justification, on the other hand, takes place in the conscience of the sinner and occurs by faith. When the Bible speaks of justification it usually has passive justification in view. Active and passive justification cannot be separated, and the latter is based upon the former. And in terms of the ordo salutis, passive justification follows faith.95 This same active-passive distinction does not appear in his Compendium, but Vos does employ it in his Dogmatiek.96 Again, given that Berkhof was Vos’s student, he likely learned the distinction from his professor, though he also was possibly familiar with its earlier use in the tradition. Nevertheless, where Vos and Berkhof clearly affirm the priority of the forensic, or the imputation of Christ’s righteousness in active justification, is in their respective explanations of the ordo.97 Once again Berkhof follows Vos’s outline from his Compendium in his explanation of the ordo salutis. When Berkhof treats the relationship between union with Christ and justification, he makes statements that are very similar, if not outright identical, to those of Vos. In 1903, in the middle of Berkhof ’s time at Princeton, Vos published his article, “The Alleged Legalism in Paul’s Doctrine of Justification,” in the Princeton Theological Review where he stated: Paul consciously and consistently subordinated the mystical aspect of the relation to Christ to the forensic one. Paul’s mind was to such an extent forensically oriented that he regarded the entire complex of subjective spiritual changes that take place in the believer and of the subjective spiritual blessings enjoyed by the believer as the direct outcome of the forensic work of Christ applied in justification. The mystical is based on the forensic, not the forensic on the mystical.98

In this statement Vos has a lack of clarity that requires some explanation. It appears that when Vos writes of the mystical aspect of union with Christ, he equates it to the renovative aspects of soteriology, such as regeneration and sanctification. This interpretation of Vos’s statement seems warranted on two counts. 95 Berkhof, Systematic Theology, 517. 96 Vos, Dogmatiek, V.12 (vol. IV, pp. 22–23). 97 What follows is drawn from J. V. Fesko, “Vos and Berkhof on Union with Christ and Justification,” CTJ 47/1 (2012): 50–71. Note, the translations from Vos’s Compendium in this section were provided by my colleague, Dr. Derke Bergsma. 98 Geerhardus Vos, “The Alleged Legalism in Paul’s Doctrine of Justification,” in Redemptive History and Biblical Interpretation: The Shorter Writings of Geerhardus Vos, ed. Richard B. Gaffin, Jr. (Phillipsburg: P & R, 1980), 384. Cf. idem, Biblical Theology: Old and New Testaments (1948; Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1996), 394.

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First, Vos says that the “spiritual changes” are subordinated to the “forensic” relation between Christ and the believer. According to Vos, justification or the forensic benefits of redemption change the believer’s state, not his condition.99 Second, when Vos elaborates upon the relationship between the forensic and mystical union in his Compendium he explains it in this manner: “What does the mystical union with Christ imply? The union with Christ is not set forth as the legal basis for the application of His benefits. It is set forth simply to impress deeply upon the believer that he receive all the benefits because of Christ’s merits. For this result to happen, he must receive everything from Christ.”100 Both of these statements are similar, if not identical, to those of Berkhof, who grounds the mystical union upon the forensic. Berkhof writes: The mystical union in the sense in which we are now speaking of it is not the judicial ground, on the basis of which we become partakers of the riches that are in Christ. It is sometimes said that the merits of Christ cannot be imputed to us as long as we are not in Christ, since it is only on the basis of our oneness with Him that such an imputation could be reasonable. But this view fails to distinguish between our legal unity with Christ and our spiritual oneness with Him, and is a falsification of the fundamental element in the doctrine of redemption, namely, of the doctrine of justification. Justification is always a declaration of God, not on the basis of an existing condition, but on that of a gracious imputation,—a declaration which is not in harmony with the existing condition of the sinner. The judicial ground for all the special grace which we receive lies in the fact that the righteousness of Christ is freely imputed to us.101

Berkhof offers a parallel construction to Vos, and given his reliance upon his professor’s work, likely drew it straight from Vos. Beyond these statements, Vos continues to offer other opinions that once again harmonize perfectly with the views of Berkhof: “What distinctions must we apply to the sequence of steps in the ‘order of salvation?’” Vos responds, “We must distinguish between the judicial acts of God and the regenerational acts of God.”102 Vos further stipulates: “The justifying acts serve as the foundation upon which the regenerational acts of God rest. Although (for instance) justification

99 Vos, Systematische Theologie, I.5 (p. 133). 100 Vos, Systematische Theologie, I.16 (p. 135): “Waarin ligt de beteekenis der mystieke unio met Christus? De oonheid met Chrisus wordt niet tot stand gebracht om den rechtsgrond voor de toepassing zijner weldaden te sijn. Sij wordt alleen gelegd om het diep in’t leven van den geloovige aft e drukken dat hig alle heilsweldaden om Christus’ verdiensten ontvangt. Om dit te down uitkomen, krijgt hij allel uit Christus.” 101 Berkhof, Systematic Theology, 452. 102 Vos, Systematische Theologie, I.5(p. 132): “Welke onderscheiding moeten we op de trappen der heilsorde toepassen? … Tusschen de rechterlijke daden Gods en de herscheppende daden Gods.”

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follows the new birth in time, nevertheless, the former is the foundation of the latter.”103 When we compare what Vos and Berkhof have to say on the nature of union with Christ, one has to wonder whether Berkhof once again had Vos’s Compendium open in front of him as he wrote. Berkhof lists six characteristics of union and Vos lists ten. Vos’s first characteristic is the universal union that Christ has with all created spirits as the omnipresent Logos. He then gives three negative statements: the union is not one merely of knowledge or belief, not a merging of the essences of Christ and believers, and not a union preserved by external means (i. e., the sacraments). Vos then goes on to list six more characteristics: Vos104 Berkhof 105 It is an organic unity ( John 15.1; 1 Cor. 6.15, It is an organic union … ( John 15.5; 1 19; 12.12; Eph 1.22–23; 4.15–16). Cor. 6.15–19; Eph. 1.22–23; 4.15–16; 5.29– 30). It is a union (Gal 2.20; 2 Cor. 13.5; It is a vital union … (Rom. 8.10; 2 Cor. 13.5; Rom. 8.10). Gal 4.19–20). A union through the work of the Holy Spirit It is a union mediated by the Holy Spirit … (1 Cor. 12.13; 6.7; 2 Cor. 3.18). (1 Cor. 6.17; 12.13; 2 Cor. 3.17–18; Gal. 3.2– 3). A reciprocal union. It is initiated by Christ It is a union that implies reciprocal action. who unites the believer to himself by The initial act is that of Christ, who united working faith in the believer. In response, the believers to himself by regenerating them believer is united with Christ and confirms and thus producing faith in them. On the this unity through the exercise of his faith. other hand, the believer also unites himself to Christ by a conscious act of faith … ( John 14.23; 15.4–5; Gal. 2.20; Eph 3.17). A personal union with Christ with every It is a personal union. Every believer is believer from which a mutual unity of personally united directly to Christ… . believers together results. A forming into Christ’s image and a molding It is a transforming union. By this union to conform to Him a unity (Rom. 6.5). The believers are changed into the image of communion of saints rests in her (i. e., the Christ according to his human nature … mystical union) Eph. 3.17–18.

103 Vos, Systematische Theologie, 133: “De rechterlijke daden sijn de grond waarop de herscheppende daden berusten. Al volgt b.v. de Rechtvaardigmaking in tijd op de wadergeboorte, toch is sij de rechtsgrond voor den laatste.” 104 Vos, Systematische Theologie, I.18 (p. 135): “(5) Zij is eene organische eenheid… . (6) Zij is oone levenseenheid… . (7) Eene eenheid door den Geest bewerkt… . (8) Eene wederkeerige eenheid. Zij gaat van Christus uit, die den geloovige met zich verreenigt in de vedergeboorte en door het verwekken des geloofs. Wederkeerig vereenigt zich echter ook de geloovige met Christus en bestendigt dei eenheid door het oefenen des geloofs … (9) Eene persoonlikje verreeniging met Christus voor ieder geloovige, waaruit de eenheid der geloovigen onderling voortfloeit. (10). eene naar Christus’ beeld ons vormende en aan Hemgelijkformigmakende eenheld… . De gemeenschape der heiligen berusp op haar.” 105 Berkhof, Systematic Theology, 450.

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There are certainly differences between the two lists, but the similarities are uncanny, especially given that Vos and Berkhof give some of the same Scripture proofs at several points (indicated by bold print). Upon closer examination, it appears that Berkhof follows Vos’s outline for presenting the relationship between the ordo salutis, union with Christ, and justification. When the outline is compared to Berkhof ’s outline, the parallels are noticeable: Vos106 Soteriology Ordo Salutis Distinctions applied to the ordo Connections between the work of the Spirit in nature and in grace Common Grace Special grace Mystic and Rationalist errors Mystical union Characteristics of the union

Berkhof 107 Soteriology in General ordo salutis Distinctions Operations of the Holy Spirit in General General and Special Operations of the Spirit Common Grace Mystical Union Characteristics of the Union Erroneous Conceptions Rationalistic Mystical Socinian and Arminian Sacramentarian

Vos and Berkhof offer strikingly similar outlines, and to a certain extent, Bavinck affirms the same points. In short, the pactum salutis entails the imputation of Christ’s righteousness to the elect sinner and this active justification constitutes the legal foundation for all of the subsequent redemptive work, union with Christ, and the transformative elements of the ordo salutis.

7.3.3 Justification from eternity A likely question arises whether Vos, Bavinck, and Berkhof affirm justification from eternity, given that they place active justification logically prior to all other steps in the ordo salutis. The answer to this question is, no. All three theologians and Berkouwer explicitly denied justification from eternity and stand in contrast to Kuyper. Kuyper did not distinguish between active and passive justification. Rather, he argued that election, justification, and even glorification precede the sinner’s new birth (or regeneration). “The dead sinner whom God regenerates,” writes Kuyper, “is to the divine consciousness a beloved, elect, justified, and 106 Vos, Systematische Theologie, 132–35. 107 Berkhof, Systematic Theology, 415–53.

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adopted child already.”108 Kuyper is fully aware that God justifies the ungodly, and not righteous people, and that he calls sinners to repentance. But when the Scriptures speak in this manner, they do so from the sinner’s point of view, from his own consciousness of sin. But from another vantage point: “Before the supreme bar of justice God declared him just and free, long before he was so declared before the bar of his own conscience. Long before he believed, he was justified before God’s tribunal, by and by to the justified by faith before his own consciousness.”109 Here Kuyper does not use the historical terminology, but he employs the concept and distinction of being justified in foro Dei (before God) and in foro conscientiae (before the conscience).110 Kuyper explicitly addresses the timing of justification when he writes: “The Sacred Scripture reveals justification as an eternal act of God, that is, an act which is not limited by any moment in the human existence.” Hence, Kuyper believed, It should therefore openly be confessed, and without any abbreviation, that justification does not occur when we become conscious of it, but that, on the contrary, our justification was decided from eternity in the holy judgment-seat of our God. There is undoubtedly a moment in our life when for the first time justification is published to our consciousness, but let us be careful to distinguish justification itself from its publication.111

Kuyper’s point, unlike Vos, Bavinck, Berkhof, and Berkouwer, is that when a person is justified by faith, he discovers his already-justified status. For Vos, Bavinck, Berkhof, and Berkouwer, passive justification is not the mere discovery of a previous status but an actual as-of-yet executed judicial action, one that awaits the sinner’s profession of faith. For Vos, Bavinck, and Berkhof, active justification logically precedes the ordo salutis, whereas for Kuyper, justification is first. The distinction may appear finetoothed, but Vos, Bavinck, and Berkhof insist that justification by faith is genuine, not a mere discovery of a fait accompli. Berkhof ’s three stated objections are representative for Vos, Bavinck, and Berkouwer: (1) the Scriptures teach that 108 Abraham Kuyper, The Work of the Holy Spirit, trans. Henri De Vries (1900; Chattanooga: AMG Publishers, 1995), 322. 109 Kuyper, Holy Spirit, 323. 110 Perhaps one of the better-known advocates of justification from eternity was English theologian Tobias Crisp, whom Curt Daniel identifies as the one who popularized the in foro Dei- in foro conscientiae distinction (Curt Daniel, “Hyper-Calvinism and John Gill,” [Ph.D. Dissertation, University of Edinburgh, 1983], 309). Cf. Tobias Crisp, Christ Alone Exalted, vol. 1 (London: John Bennett, 1832), 323–24. This distinction was employed by others, such as William Pemble (1591–1623), Vindiciae Gratiae A Plea for Grace More Especially the Grace of Faith, 2nd ed. (London: 1629), 21–22; cf. Hans Boersma, A Hot Pepper Corn: Richard Baxter’s Doctrine of Justification in its Seventeenth-Century Context of Controversy (Vancouver: Regent College Publishing, 2004), 71–72. 111 Kuyper, Holy Spirit, 389.

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justification takes place by faith; (2) Romans 8:29–30 places justification between two temporal acts of God, namely, calling and glorification; and (3) justification is a transient act of God, not an immanent act—to argue for justification from eternity confuses the decree with its execution in time. On this last point, Berkhof specifies: “What took place in the pactum salutis cannot be identified with what results from it. All imputation is not yet justification. Justification is one of the fruits of Christ’s redemptive work, applied to believers by the Holy Spirit.”112

7.4

Conclusion

The overall picture among twentieth-century proponents of the pactum salutis is quite different from what appears among the doctrine’s critics. The critics had an antipathy towards scholasticism, a penchant for recasting long-held Reformed doctrines and definitions, and a proclivity for citing Calvin as paradigmatic. The proponents of the pactum, on the other hand, show opposite characteristics: they are comfortable and positively inclined towards Reformed scholasticism, adhered to traditional formulations and definitions, and do not appeal to Calvin in their formulations of the doctrine. The fact that Vos, Bavinck, and Berkhof all employ the pactum, and especially the distinction between active and passive justification, is prime evidence of both their familiarity and comfort with the earlier scholastic tradition.113 The chapter also reveals that Vos, who has been described as a reclusive mystic monk who lived between walls of books, was more influential than many realize.114 As reclusive as he may have been, his theological influence has yet to be truly measured. To what degree did Vos, the systematic theologian, influence Bavinck and Berkhof ? Vos’s influence appears in Bavinck’s formulation of the pactum, which is undoubtedly connected to his inaugural lecture on the history of the covenant. But Vos’s friendship with Bavinck, which was fostered through 112 Berkhof, Systematic Theology, 519; cf. Vos, Dogmatiek, V.11 (pp. 16–20); Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, IV:200–04, 214–19; idem, Saved By Grace: The Holy Spirit’s Work in Calling and Regeneration, trans. Nelson D. Kloosterman (1903; Grand Rapids: Reformation Heritage Books, 2008), 6–7; G. C. Berkouwer, Faith and Justification (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1954), 143–70. 113 Lane Tipton focuses upon Berkhof ’s use of the active-passive justification distinction and inveighs against him for “speculative, dogmatic constructions that move us away from Scripture and our confessional standards normed by Scripture” (Lane Tipton, “Biblical Theology and the Westminster Standards Revisited: Union with Christ and Justification Sola Fide,” WTJ 75 [2013]: 1–12, esp. 12). Tipton seems to be unaware of the history of this distinction, as well as its use by Vos and Bavinck. He also fails to connect Berkhof ’s use of the distinction to his doctrine of the pactum. 114 Harinck, “Vos as Introducer of Kuyper,” 243.

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correspondence and even Bavinck’s three-week stay in the Vos home during his visit to America in 1892, likely engendered theological dialogue.115 One wonders whether theology flowed from the Vos table like fine wine as he dined with Bavinck and discussed his recently delivered inaugural lecture. The same can be said for Vos’s relationship to Berkhof. Vos has always had the reputation of being the biblical theologian and Berkhof the systematician. But this chapter shows that Vos’s labors as a professor of dogmatics may have had a surprisingly large impact. Berkhof borrowed heavily from both Bavinck and Vos, evident in his apparent use of Vos’s Compendium in the composition of his own systematic theology. All of this goes to show that the doctrine of the pactum in the twentieth century travels along some unanticipated paths and that some of the Reformed tradition’s greatest “biblical” minds contributed to the positive reception of dogmatic ideas like the pactum salutis.

115 Harinck, “Vos as Introducer of Kuyper,” 253.

Conclusion

The survey of the history of the origins, development, and reception of the pactum salutis reveals a number of interesting twists and turns. Some of the first seminal statements about an intra-trinitarian covenant originated in theologians as diverse as Martin Luther and Jacob Arminius, two theologians not ordinarily associated with covenant theology. Nevertheless, whatever inchoate statements about an intra-trinitarian covenant were made in the sixteenth-century, the return to the exegesis of the biblical text in the original languages shaped the development of the doctrine. With key texts such as Luke 22:29, theologians began to coordinate the doctrine of the covenant with the Son’s appointment as mediator and covenant surety. David Dickson’s 1638 speech against Arminianism at the General Assembly of the Scottish Kirk offers one of the first fullfledged explanations of the doctrine. The pactum had quickly spread and found wide acceptance throughout Europe, both in the British Isles and on the Continent. But despite its widespread acceptance, theologians still disagreed about a number of significant issues. There does not appear to be one set exegetical path to establishing the doctrine of the pactum. As much as modern critics chide the earlier tradition for its appeal to Zechariah 6:13 as a proof text, many theologians did not appeal to it. Theologians appealed to many texts to support the doctrine. The exegetically diverse arguments demonstrate that the doctrine has wide attestation throughout the Scriptures and does not rest upon one allegedly misread text. The survey also revealed two different variants of the pactum salutis—the christological and trinitarian models. Is the pactum a covenantal agreement between the Father and Son? Or is it an agreement among Father, Son, and Holy Spirit? Far from a declension into sub-trinitarian theology, some theologians placed the pactum under the locus of christology rather than the doctrine of the trinity. Regardless of a theologian’s preference, none of those surveyed declined into tri-theism. In fact, a number of theologians (e. g., Owen, à Brakel, Vos) were sensitive to the question of how the Father and the Son, who share one common will, nevertheless enter into an agreement. In this respect multiple Reformed theologians

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exegeted the various Father-Son dialogues and explain how two equal members of the godhead could deliberate and enter into a covenant. Theologians were reflecting upon divine revelation, not taking off on flights of speculation. In this respect, the pactum is the genesis of divine revelation; the pactum-revelation connection is implicit in a number of theologians but comes to the fore especially in the thought of Charles Hodge. Since the pactum entails the incarnation, this requires divine revelation to prepare for the advent, incarnation, and subsequent explanation of the significance of the Son’s work. Not only did theologians coordinate the pactum with revelation but also with other doctrines such as predestination and justification. Some do not discuss the specific question, while others (e. g., Vos and Bavinck), contend that predestination logically precedes the pactum. That is, predestination is part of the trinitarian consilium Dei, not the pactum salutis. But in all of the variegated formulations, theologians were insistent that predestination was a sovereign choice of the triune God, one that united the elect to their federal head and covenant surety. Predestination, contrary to the caricatures of some, was never a bald abstract choice. The pactum holds predestination and union with Christ together by the ligatures of covenant. The timing of imputation and justification are significant issues that arise in the various formulations of the pactum. Does the imputation of the Son’s righteousness occur within the pactum (e. g., Witsius, Turretin, Vos, Bavinck, Berkhof) or does it await the elect sinner’s profession of faith (e. g., Hodge, WCF)? Related to this is the question of the viability and necessity of the distinction between active and passive justification. Is the distinction warranted, desirable, and the best way to account for the relationship between the covenant surety and his elect bride? Beyond the question of the timing of imputation is the related matter of the timing of justification. Is the elect sinner justified in the pactum (Gill and Kuyper), does his justification await a profession of faith (Hodge, WCF, Savoy), or does it await the final judgment (Edwards)? The survey revealed that, even though a theologian was committed to the doctrine, the pactum salutis does not automatically dictate specific doctrinal conclusions. The historical survey also raises the question regarding the relationship between God and his salvific activity. Generally speaking, advocates such as Dickson and others, raised the pactum to safeguard the monergistic nature of salvation. More specifically, Vos and Bavinck defended the point that the pactum determines the nature of the ordo salutis. To what extent, then, do the trinitarian processions and covenantally framed missions shape and mold the order of salvation? Implicitly for earlier formulations and explicitly for Vos and Bavinck, the trinitarian missions and processions provide the logical order for the ordo salutis. While this study did not explore the specific issue, critics of the ordo salutis must dig beyond the facile narrative that the ordo is erroneously based

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upon the misreading of one proof text, namely, Romans 8:28–30. This historical survey has revealed that many Reformed theologians traced justification, in some sense, back to the pactum salutis, and hence the priority of the forensic in the ordo is not merely a question of whether justification logically precedes glorification in Paul’s famous text. Rather, the question also turns on the more fundamental issue of the logical order of the trinitarian processions and missions. One of the most important things to recognize is how regularly the theme of love surfaces in discussions of the pactum salutis. This is a phenomenon that covers the entire history of the doctrine. Far from being presented as a cold and calculated loveless act, theologians repeatedly appeal to the idea that the pactum is a manifestation of intra-trinitarian love that overflows to the elect. A number of criticisms over the years against various Reformed doctrines, such as predestination, the Son’s merit, or imputation have been examined apart from the context of the pactum. As abstract doctrines, the likelihood of characterizing them as cold and loveless acts seems high. Predestination is a bald abstract choice where the triune God arbitrarily chooses to save some and damn others. The Son’s merit is the Father exacting his pound of flesh to meet the demands of his justice. And imputation is simply an accounting sleight of hand where debits are erased and credits transferred. Divorced from the greater context of the pactum, such conclusions may be warranted. But within the context of the covenant of redemption, predestination is not an arbitrary choice but the Father giving his Son a bride, and thereby choosing them “in him” (Eph. 1:4), in the Messiah, the covenant surety, the elect servant of the Lord (Isa. 42:1). The Son’s merit is not merely a pound of flesh given to an abstract principle of justice, but his free, voluntary, and loving covenant with his Father. The Son lovingly pledges to his Father his heart, soul, mind, and strength and demonstrates it through his obedience to him. The interaction between Father and Son occurs within the context of the covenant. Imputation, therefore, is not a legal fiction or cooking the books of justice, but a federal or legal union with Christ whereby the covenant surety pours out his obedience and suffering for his bride to redeem her from the clutches of sin and death. In the hands of Reformed theologians, the over all intention of the covenant of redemption was to demonstrate that redemption, from beginning (the pactum) to the end (the eschaton) was bathed in the love of the triune God and therefore should serve as a bulwark against fear, hopelessness, and anxiety in the face of sin and death. The pactum was supposed to be a great source of comfort, an anchor of hope, for Christians— the firm foundation for all of the irrevocable blessings of the covenant of grace. Given the convergence of theology (proper), christology, and soteriology, in the covenant of redemption, the doctrine seems ripe for retrieval. Presently there are few monographs on the doctrine and most references to it are slender expositions. Moreover, appeals to the doctrine do not take into account the com-

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plexity of issues surrounding it (e. g., a christological or trinitarian model, the relationship between the pactum and predestination, justification and the timing of imputation, as well as the order of salvation). While certain challenging questions accompany the doctrine, it seems that the benefits of coordinating the various loci within the context of the doctrine of a pre-temporal covenant is exegetically warranted and deserves, therefore, careful study and consideration. In this respect, hopefully the church can look into its history and allow the fresh breeze of the centuries-past blow through its mind to enrich its constructive theological efforts in the present.

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Author Index

À Brakel, Wilhelmus 87, 96 À Lapide, Cornelius 39 f., 71, 85 Alexander, Archibald 17, 30, 149, 162, 164 f., 219 Alleine, Joseph 22 Altingius, Jacob 85 f., 103 Ames, William 32 f., 42–44, 50, 83, 111, 118–120, 128 f., 131, 162, 172, 175, 222 Aquinas, Thomas 35, 39, 58, 60, 73 f., 94, 132, 190, 193, 195 f., 202 f. Ariew, Roger 131 Arminius, Jacob 16, 31 f., 35 f., 61 f., 137, 139, 231 Arrowsmith, John 55 Augustine 15 f., 35, 71, 126, 140 Baker, J. Wayne 16, 18, 22 f., 32, 37 f., 42, 50, 54, 60, 119, 122, 128 f., 137, 156, 162, 172, 175, 189, 200, 212, 215, 222 Ball, John 22, 153 Barnes, Albert 153 Barth, Karl 18, 21, 23, 26 f., 171, 184–187, 189–198, 200–204, 217 Baskwell, Patrick 193 Bavinck, Herman 18 f., 27, 50, 178 f., 181, 189, 191, 193, 195 f., 199, 203–206, 212– 218, 222 f., 227–230, 232 Baxter, Richard 118, 137, 228 Beach, J. Mark 19, 84, 91, 98, 101, 108, 182 f., 189, 211 Beeke, Joel 66 f. Benedict, Philip 34, 201 f. Berkhof, Louis 18, 27, 176, 178 f., 204 f., 214–218, 222–230, 232

Berkouwer, G. C. 18, 27, 204–206, 211, 214 f., 217 f., 227–229 Beza, Theodore 16, 39 f., 70, 85, 184, 194 Bierma, Lyle D. 16, 37 Blake, Thomas 22, 54, 70 Bloesch, Donald G. 156 Boersma, Hans 228 Bogue, Carl 122, 127, 129 f., 136 Bombaro, John J. 130, 133, 136 Boston, Thomas 15, 17 f., 20, 22, 47, 112, 116, 131, 162, 167, 175, 177, 215 Bozeman, Theodore Dwight 148 f., 156 Braaten, Carl 23 Bratt, James D. 193, 206 Brinsley, John 55 Brooks, Thomas 54, 77 Brown (of Haddington), John 112, 131 Brown (of Wamphrey), John 55 Burgess, Anthony 20, 55, 58, 70, 76, 178 Buchanan, James 150, 175 Bulkeley, Peter 22, 54, 70, 121, 131 Bullinger, Heinrich 23, 34, 40, 174, 202 Bunyan, John 110 Burman, Franz 100, 137 f. Busch, Eberhard 190 Bush, Michael 188 Buxtorf, Sr., Johann 52 Cajetan, Tommaso 71, 73, 85 Caldwell, Robert W. 122, 126, 129 f., 132– 134, 139 Calhoun, David 147

254 Calvin, John 9, 21, 23, 27, 30, 34, 38, 43 f., 86, 105, 138, 152, 166, 187 f., 190 f., 194, 196, 198–204, 206, 215, 229 Cherry, Conrad 128, 132 Cho, Hyun-Jin 127, 129 f., 132 Clark, R. Scott 17–19, 33, 37 f., 54, 65, 90, 114, 117, 132, 150, 172, 184 f., 210 Cloppenburg, Johannes 32, 34, 83, 96 Cocceius, Johannes 17, 21, 37, 40, 51, 73, 81, 84, 86–91, 95, 97–100, 111, 150, 177 f., 191, 207 f., 211, 215 f. Colquhoun, John 175 Copleston, Frederick 147 f. Crisp, Oliver 122, 127 f., 140 f., 147 Crisp, Tobias 228 Dabney, Robert L. 128, 150, 174 Daneau, Lambert 34, 50, 172 Daniel, Curt 142, 148, 228 Davenant, John 50, 172, 203 De Dieu, Lodewijk 40, 86 Dickson, David 16 f., 20 f., 29–31, 44 f., 47, 54 f., 83, 86, 219, 231 f. Diodati, Giovanni 40, 50, 70 f., 85, 172 Dooyeweerd, Herman 192–197, 200, 202 f. Downame, John 41 f. Durandus of St. Pourçain 60 Durham, James 17, 45, 54, 64–66, 68, 72, 76 f., 90, 114 f., 117 Edwards, Jonathan 10, 17 f., 21, 26 f., 109 f., 122–143, 145–149, 161, 163, 165 f., 172, 181, 232 Episcopius, Simon 96 Essenius, Andreas 32, 90 Estius, Guilielmus 58, 71 Evans, William B. 23, 159 Fesko, J. V. 12, 139, 155, 175, 224 Freudenberg, Matthias 200 f. Fiering, Norman 132 f., 155 Fisher, Edward 42–44, 172, 175 Flavel, John 54 f., 72 Frame, John 19, 197 Franke, John R. 156

Author Index

Gale, Theophilus 143 Geehan, E. R. 195 Gentry, Peter J. 19 Gill, John 17, 26 f., 109–122, 128 f., 131 f., 135, 139 f., 142 f., 145, 149, 161, 163, 165 f., 172, 181, 228, 232 Gillespie, George 54 Gillespie, Patrick 17, 19 f., 22, 26, 30, 47 f., 50 ff., 90, 113 f., 126, 172 Glassius, Salomon 88 Gleason, Ron 206 Gomes, Alan W. 84, 94 Gomarus, Franciscus 32–34, 83, 94 Goodwin, Thomas 21, 43 f., 50, 54, 61, 66– 68, 72, 78–80, 86, 105, 111, 118–120, 128, 134 f., 162, 172, 175, 177, 222 Gorman, Michael J. 23 Goudriaan, Aza 131 Graves, J. R. 21 Grenz, Stanley J. 156 Gribbin, John 148 Grotius, Hugo 20, 40 Grudem, Wayne 19 Gwalther, Rudolf 40 Hall, Basil 23, 51 Hanko, Herman 22 Harinck, George 187, 190–193, 197, 206, 229 f. Hart, D. G. 128, 155, 173, 202 Hart, Peter 190 Heidegger, Johannes 87, 100, 105 f., 108, 111, 121, 137 f., 222 Helm, Paul 127, 140 f. Henry, Matthew 16, 22, 39, 51, 182 f., 212, 215 Heppe, Heinrich 37, 106, 137 f., 175, 213, 216 f., 222 Hodge, A. A. 18, 108, 112, 113, 117, 146, 150, 160, 176, 177 Hodge, Charles 18, 27, 128, 140, 141, 143, 145 f., 149-69, 172–174, 176, 178, 188, 195, 207 f., 216, 222, 232 Hoeksema, Herman 18, 27, 171, 178–184, 186 f., 189, 192 f., 196–199, 203 f., 211

255

Author Index

Hoffecker, W. Andrew 146 Hog, James 20 Holmes, Stephen R. 126 Hooker, Thomas 22, 43 f. Hoornbeck, Johannes 111, 119 f. Horton, Michael S. 19 Huigen, Arnold 200 Hunsinger, George 127, 129 f., 139 Jenson, Robert W. 23, 124, 129 f. Jeon, Jeong Koo 189 Johnson, Marcus Peter 23, 128, 150 Johnson, Thomas C. 128, 150 Jones, Mark 19, 61, 66 f., 78, 120, 128, 175, 212, 215, 222 Junius, Francis 51, 199 Keach, Benjamin 17, 110 Keckerman, Barthomomäus 105 f., 222 Kuyper, Abraham 18, 27, 178, 181, 191– 193, 195, 199, 201, 203–206, 211, 213, 215, 217 f., 227–230, 232 Lee, Brian J. 40, 97, 150 Lee, Sang Hyun 122 f., 130, 132 f., 142, 161 Leigh, Edward 47, 55, 79, 94, 177 Letham, Robert. 19, 21, 68, 159 Lewis, C. S. 22, 25 f., 128 Leydekker, Melchior 100 Lim, Paul C. H. 94 Logan, Jr., Samuel T. 127 Lombard, Peter 96 Loonstra, Bertus 21, 181 Lowrie, Ernest Benson 162 Lucas, Sean Michael 40, 128 Luther, Martin 9, 23, 36 f., 104 f., 138, 166, 172, 194, 196, 231 Maccovius, Johannes 111, 119 f., 195 Machen, J. Gresham 28, 173 Manton, Thomas 132 f. Marckius, Johannes 105, 216, 222 Marlorat, Augustin 49, 172 Marsden, George M. 147 McClendon, Michael 127–131

McClymond, Michael J. 132, 137–139, 141 McDermott, Gerald R. 127, 129, 132, 137– 139 Miley, John 167 Miller, Samuel 22, 147, 149 Montgomery, J. Michael 21 Moody, Josh 127, 215 Moorhead, James H. 147 Morell, John Daniel 156 f. Morimoto, Anri 128–130 Muller, Richard A. 9, 11, 19, 30, 37–39, 41 f., 50, 54, 62, 110 f., 117, 128, 139, 145, 148, 196, 201–203, 215 Murray, Iain 173 Murray, John 20, 141, 173–178, 180–184, 186–189, 197–199, 202, 204 Muether, John 192, 197 Newton, Isaac 132, 148, 155 Niemeyer, H. A. 38 Noll, Mark 147 f., 155, 159 Norcutt, William 20 Norton, John 77 O’Donnell, Laurence R. 11, 19, 21, 63–65, 181, 184, 203, 212 f. Oecolampadius, Johannes 37 Olevianus, Caspar 16, 37 f., 191, 198, 202, 213, 217 Oliphint, K. Scott 19, 203 Owen, John 17, 19–21, 32 f., 54, 61–67, 72, 83, 86, 90, 111, 113–115, 117, 119 f., 126, 128, 134 f., 166, 172, 175, 210, 222, 231 Pareus, David 34, 43 f., 71, 85 Pauw, Amy Plantinga 18, 122–124, 172 Pemble, Wiliam 51, 228 Perkins, William 50, 73, 172, 174 f., 184 Petto, Samuel 68–70, 72, 74, 77 Pictet, Benedict 81, 98, 172 Piscator, Johannes 16, 34, 70, 85, 88 Preston, John 22, 50, 69, 172, 174 Rast, Jr., Lawrence R. 128–130 Rehnman, Sebastian 175

256 Reid, Thomas 147 f. Reynolds, Edward 43 f., 69, 72 Ridderbos, Herman 174 Ridgley, Thomas 123, 131 Rijssen, Leonard 105, 121, 175, 222 Rivet, Andre 35 Roberts, Francis 15, 49 f., 68–72, 77, 172 Rogers, Jack B. 156 Rollock, Robert 19, 175 Rutherford, Samuel 22, 37, 54, 63 f., 66, 68, 70–72, 75, 85, 90, 115, 168, 177 Schafer, Thomas 130 Schilder, Klaas 18, 21, 27, 171, 182–184, 186 f., 189, 191 f., 196–199, 203 f., 211, 217 Sedgwick, Obadiah 54, 72 Seeberg, Reinhold 60 Shaw, Robert 18, 150 f., 176 Shedd, W. G. T. 150, 166, 174, 177, 216 Sherlock, William 131, 134 f. Snell, R. J. 202 Spykman, Gordon J. 197 Stein, Stephen J. 142 Straus, S. A. 182 f., 193 Stuart, Moses 153 Studebaker, Steven M. 127 Suter, Rufus 141 Tholuck, August 153 Thysius, Antonius 199 Tipton, Lane 229 Tirinus, Jacobus 33 Torrance, Alan 185 Torrance, J. B. 149, 185, 201 Torrance, T. F. 201 Trueman, Carl 19, 30, 47, 61, 120, 128, 134, 138, 150, 222 Tuchman, Barbara W. 190 Twisse, William 20, 57, 111, 119, 142 Van Asselt, Willem J. 19, 37, 100 f., 103, 211 Van der Stelt, John C. 156 Van der Waeyen, Johannes 189 Van Genderen, J. 19

Author Index

Van Limborch, Philip 166 f. Van Mastricht, Petrus 87, 129, 131, 139, 174, 177 f., 199, 207, 216 Van Reest, Rudolf 199 Van Ruler, J. A. 131 Van Til, Cornelius 155 f., 192, 195–197, 200, 203 Van Til, Salomon 100 VanDrunen, David 11, 18 f., 155, 167, 175, 192, 202 Vanhoozer, Kevin J. 19 f., 23 Venema, Cornelis P. 202 Voetius, Gisbert 20, 32, 34 f., 44, 83, 90, 99 f., 131, 199, 211, 216 Von Rohr, John 22 Vos, Geerhardus 11, 18, 27, 173, 178, 204– 232 Waddington, Jeffrey C. 127, 130 Wallace, Daniel B. 166, 201 Warfield, B. B. 11, 18, 54, 122, 141, 148, 195 f., 207 f., 215 Watts, Emily Stipes 141 f. Watts, Isaac 123 f. Webster, John 11, 15, 19 f., 185 Webster, Ransom Lewis 206 Wendelin, Marcus 137 f. White, Jonathan Anthony 55, 111 Willard, Samuel 20, 47, 131, 162 Williams, C. J. 54 Williams, Carol A. 21, 30 Wills, Garry 167 Witherspoon, John 147 f., 155 Witsius, Herman 15, 17, 19, 21, 26, 29, 31– 36, 81, 83–96, 98–100, 103–107, 111, 119– 121, 149 f., 161 f., 166, 168, 172, 174 f., 182, 211, 216, 222 f., 232 Wolters, Albert M. 193 Woo, Byunghoo 21, 86 Woolsey, Andrew 37 Yazawa, Reita 21 Young, William 194 Zwaanstra, Henry

215