After Calvin: A wee history

Here is a little paper/article I put together (rather quickly — a couple years ago) on the history surrounding the debate between understanding Calvin as either 1) a Calvinist, calvinbible_phixr-1_phixror 2) not a Calvinist. I wanted to put this up again, because I think it still, at least, illustrates some of things at stake in this rather technical/sticky issue. It’s probably an issue that most could care less about (and to be honest I don’t care as much about it either anymore, but I still think it’s important).

The following represents a mini-paper I just wrote on the issue of Calvin vs. the Calvinists. What I want to provide for you all is what is at stake for Evangelical Calvinism and her place in the complex known as “Calvinism” or “Reformed” theology. The following is just an introduction to the major approaches to how we understand and frame this issue. I will be following this up with later posts, providing more flesh to the bones that this post present us with. The reason this is important is because if we follow the reading provided exclusively by Richard Muller, Evangelical Calvinism cannot be fitted into the framework known as “Calvinism,” in general. That is problem, 1) because it is not accurate relative to the history, but more importantly 2) because it mutes a rich conceptual and “doctrinal” heritage from being considered ‘orthodox’ by the broader body of people known as “Reformed orthodox.” What I will ultimately seek to demonstrate, of which this paper is only an introduction to, is that Muller does indeed provide a helpful corrective to some of what has been said by the “older scholarship;” but that he is inconsistent with his own thesis of “continuity,” because he in fact fails to include strains of Calvinism within the “Reformed orthodox” tradition. He says that he is only really concerned with methodology, and that he just wants to give us the real “history” around this issue; but upon further reading (which I’ll bring out later), he actually smuggles the conceptual back into his project — the very thing he accuses the “older scholarship” of doing. In other words, Muller demonstrates that his motivation is as much “theological” as those he accuses this of, and seeks to correct through his historizing. Anyway, here’s what I have thus far:

Introduction: Stating the Problem, Complexity and Conceptuality in the Readings of the ‘Reformed Tradition’

Engaging the period of Protestant history known as the ‘Reformed period’ has many and complex issues involved with it. Not least of which is how we should understand the relationship between what Richard Muller has called the ‘early’, ‘high’, and ‘late’ eras of this broader category that makes up the ‘Reformed period’. In other words, in the literature there has been reconstruction of this period, and the inter-relationship that inheres between the “three eras” just noted, that is in competition.

The “competition” revolves around how we should understand the continuity or discontinuity between the earlier Reformers and the high and later Reformers (the latter two classifications known as the ‘post-Reformed orthodox’). The so called older school of interpretation made up by folks like Thomas Torrance and Brian Armstrong (and even Karl Barth) are caricatured to have interpreted this issue in overly simplistic form, and through a biased dogmatic appropriation of the “history.” Muller says,

The older scholarship, exemplified by the writings of Ernst Bizer, Walter Kickel, Brian Armstrong, Thomas Torrance, and others has typically modified the term “orthodoxy” with the pejorative terms “rigid” and “dead,” and modified references to “scholasticism” with the equally pejorative terms “dry” or “arid.” Such assessment bespeaks bias, but it also reflects a rather curious sequence of metaphors. The implied alternative to such a phenomenon as “scholastic orthodoxy” would, perhaps, be a flexible and lively methodological muddle of slightly damp heterodoxy. . . .[1]

Muller takes issue with these “older approaches,” and seeks to clarify this issue by revisiting and sharpening how the key language of “scholastic” and “orthodox” should be understood within their historical context. He believes that the “older scholarship” has too quickly and anachronistically read their respective theological agendas into the history, thus subverting the history for their own usage; in the end what they give us, according to Muller is a revisionist reconstrual of the actual history.

Carl Trueman along the lines provided by Muller forwards the same thesis in regards to the way this issue has been framed and interpreted by the “older” school. He believes that people like Torrance and Armstrong have co-opted the “history” to provide credibility to their own theological constructive work; he seeks to correct this paradigm,

In the last twenty-five years many scholars . . . have moved away from the traditional models whereby Protestant scholasticism was judged by the standards of later theology, whether Barthian, neo-Calvinist or whatever, to developmental models which attempt to set the movement within the context of its own times and within the ongoing Western theological tradition. . . .[2]

It is this problematic that Muller, Trueman, and company seek to “revise” through providing, what they believe is the proper way to frame and understand this oversimplified approach that the older school has bequeathed upon us.

I will seek to elucidate how Muller, specifically, seeks to reify the understanding provided by the “old school,” and what in fact he believes is the proper way for moving forward. But, before we get there we should visit, for a moment, how this “older scholarship” sought to appropriate the “history” represented by the “Reformed period.” What is it that Muller and others are protesting in regards to the ways that these elder “theologians” and “church historians” approached this salient issue?

Answering this question is really not that difficult, at least not for Muller; he holds that the oversimplification provided by the “old school” was both a definitional and methodological quagmire. That is that the “old way” of interpretation was shaped by over-simply framing the issue by a misunderstanding of what “scholasticism” actually was, and by trying to orientate all of their reconstruction around how the “post-Reformed orthodox” (the ‘high and late’ reformers) related, or not, to John Calvin. In other words, their error, according to Muller is that they tried to correlate Calvin’s theology and methodology with the ‘reformers’ who followed him; and insofar as the post-Calvin reformers failed to cohere with Calvin’s “apparent” theological approach, this became the point of departure that served to disrupt and in fact thwart the “doctrinal” focus set by the early Reformers (e.g. Luther, Zwingli, Calvin, et al.). In short, the early Reformers were focused on confessional and christological concerns; while the latter Reformers became embroiled with rationalistic and speculative concerns that were not in continuity with the trajectory that was seminally set early on. Here’s Muller,

Scholarly perspectives on the phenomenon of post-Reformation Protestantism have altered dramatically in the last three decades. Studies of the Reformed or Calvinistic theology of the late sixteenth and seventeenth centuries written before 1970 or even 1975 tended to pose the Reformation against Protestant orthodoxy or, in the phraseology then common to the discussion, “Calvin against the Calvinists.” This rather radical dichotomy between the thought of the great Reformer and even his most immediate successors — notably, Theodore Beza — was constructed around a particular set of highly theologized assumptions, concerning the Reformation and Protestant orthodoxy, humanism and scholasticism, piety and dogma. At the heart of the dichotomizing argument was a contrast between the “biblical humanism” and christological piety of John Calvin and the Aristotelian scholasticism and predestinarian dogmatizing of nearly all of the later Reformed theologians, the sole exceptions being those who followed out the humanistic patterns of Calvin’s thought into fundamentally antischolastic modes of thought.[3]

Thomas Torrance, in line, somewhat, with Muller’s characterization certainly held that people like Muller (or the view that he represents) were the ones who have revised the “history” around this pivotal period; and in fact for the same reasons that Muller says that people like Torrance tried to revise this period — viz. for theological purposes. Torrance says in the context of his “Scottish church”,

. . . It was the imposition of a rigidly logicalised federal system of thought upon Reformed theology that gave rise to many of the problems which have afflicted Scottish theology, and thereby made central doctrines of predestination, the limited or unlimited range of the atoning death of Christ, the problem of assurance, and the nature of what was called ‘the Gospel-offer’ to sinners. This meant that relatively little attention after the middle of the seventeenth century was given to the doctrine of the Holy Trinity and to a trinitarian understanding of redemption and worship. Basic to this change was the conception of the nature and character of God. It is in relation to that issue that one must understand the divisions which have kept troubling the Kirk [church] after its hard-line commitment to the so-called ‘orthodox Calvinism’ of the Westminster Standards, and the damaging effect that had upon the understanding of the World of God and the message of the Gospel. . . .[4]

We see Torrance exemplifies exactly what Muller charges him, and others like him with; and that is the notion that Torrance believes that the “federal system of thought” (or the post-Reformed orthodox) placed the “Reformed church” on a problematic trajectory, a trajectory discontinuous with the original shape set by John Calvin.

This is too simple according to Muller. Similarly, Brian Armstrong — another “historian” in Muller and Trueman’s cross-hairs — follows suit with Torrance’s conception, and in fact up until Muller came along represents the scholarship which articulated a view that placed Calvin against the later “Calvinists.” His basic thesis, and the one that Muller seeks to problematize and correct is that once Calvin went off the scene, his successor in Geneva, Theodore Beza reintroduced Aristotelian scholasticism into the “Reformed” project, at odds with Calvin the Humanist (which was a method which sought to go back to the “sources” ad fontes or scripture and the Church Fathers), and schematized Reformed theology by what has been called the centraldogma. This was the idea that we could construe God through a rigid and deductive system of thought oriented and shaped around a deterministic supralapsarianism (or double-predestination) which was incompatible with his predecessor’s (Calvin’s) own understanding. Furthermore, Armstrong believes that Beza’s orientation was motivated by his devotion to Aristotle. Let me quote Armstrong at length:

This brief look at Calvin’s religious thought [which Armstrong just sketched] should make it clear that his whole theological program is at odds with the orientation of scholasticism as it has been characterized above. In general we must say, however, that scholasticism, not Calvin’s theology, prevailed in Reformed Protestantism. We are not here prepared to judge why Reformed theology developed as it did but only to recognize the phenomenon itself. Men like Martyr, Zanchi, Beza, Antoine de Chandieu, and Lambert Danaeus represent this divergence from a theology which had been carefully constructed by Calvin to represent faithfully the scriptural teaching and so usually presented a certain tension or balance of doctrines. . . . Of these men it was probably Beza who was most influential, and for this reason one may lay much of the blame for scholasticism at his feet. His very influential position as professor of theology at, and unquestioned supervisor of, the Genevan Academy gave him uncommon opportunity to direct the theological program of the Reformed Church. It was he who was responsible for the return to Aristotelian philosophy as the basis of the Genevan curriculum in logic and moral philosophy. As is well known, it was Beza who refused the humanist Peter Ramus a teaching post at the Genevan Academy because of Ramus’ anti-Aristotelian program.[5]

It is clear from Armstrong’s assertion that Muller has understood both of his interlocuters correctly in regards to their view of the Calvin and the Calvinists. Both Torrance and Armstrong believed that Calvin, conceptual-doctrinally, presented a different flavor and emphasis when juxtaposed with those who have come to be known as the “Calvinists.”

What I will argue later is that Muller is right to highlight the fact that the precision that folks like Torrance and Armstrong use in articulating their thoughts on this is probably too precise, and in fact comes short in doing justice to how this whole complex should be understood. Nevertheless, what I will point out, relative to Muller, is that even though he will try and argue that the issue of discontinuity that supposedly is present between Calvin and the Calvinists is simply one of different methodology and not one of conceptuality. More than that though, he wants us to believe that even though there is discontinuity between Calvin and the Calvinists on methodological concerns (e.g. Calvin being ‘confessional’ and the Calvinists being “dogmatic”); that when this issue is broadened what becomes apparent is that even method (between all of the early Reformers [not just Calvin] and the high and later Reformers) should be construed as continuous, and that the context for understanding this needs to be placed back into the late medieval period, and not simply from the ‘early Reformed era’ (as Torrance and Armstrong have done). When we do this we will see a thread of methodological concern that weaves all the way through the whole period; starting with the appropriation of Aristotelian method, which is consonant with both Agricolan and Ramist place logic and dialectical methodology. What is interesting about Muller’s argument, as I have already alluded to, is that he wants to say that all of this discontinuity talk — between Calvin and the Calvinists — should be jettisoned because of what I just mentioned (that the “old school” thesis faltered because they are short-sighted in their thinking, and they believe that the issue revolves around the “apparent” conceptual and material difference that obtains between Calvin and the Calvinists). Yet, what comes later in his book After Calvin is that Muller says that, in fact, by-and-large Aristotelian philosophy of some appropriation or form is present in most of the “later Reformers” who supposedly merely developed Calvin’s thinking (which of course the difference, previously, according to Muller was just a methodological one given the different historical concerns they were faced with). What this tells me is that Muller is playing fast and loose here. I think, and I’ll argue some of this later, that he is right in noting that there is more complexity and background than Torrance and/or Armstrong allowed into their interpretation of this issue; but that he is inconsistent because he actually smuggles “conceptual” stuff back into the criteria for adjudicating the question of continuity or discontinuity between Calvin and the Calvinists.

An aside: It is rather strange to me, when I first started this blog I had some very knowledgeable guys on this stuff reading here; they informed me that I was naive, and needed to read more of Muller (and now I have read all of the books they said I should of Muller, and in fact more — like many of his journal essays). The assumption was, that once I read more of him I would repent, and see it their way on this issue; yet, what is becoming more and more clear to me is that Muller, in some ways, plays fast and loose with his framing of this rather daunting historical conundrum. In short, I can appreciate, quite a bit more relative to the past, some of Muller’s more general themes that he helps to correct in this area; but I can now also more critically see where his thinking is flawed, and not sustainable at certain points (which I will have to get to later).


[1] Richard A. Muller, “After Calvin: Studies in the Development of a Theological Tradition,” 25.

[2] Carl R. Trueman and R. S. Clark, “Protestant Scholasticism: Essays in Reassessment,” xviii.

[3] Richard A. Muller, “After Calvin,” 3.

[4] Thomas F. Torrance, “Scottish Theology: From John Knox to John McLeod Campbell,” x-xi)

[5] Brian Armstrong, “Calvinism and the Amyraut Heresy,” 37-8 (Brackets and emphasis mine).

The Polemics of Evangelical Calvinism: Redivivus

I used to use John Piper, John MacArthur, and the faculty of Westminster Theological Seminary-California, The Gospel Coalition, etc. to foil Evangelical Calvinism in Matt_Chandler_Tabletalkan attempt to highlight the kind of practical and substantial differences between the former cluster with the latter reality. I haven’t done that for awhile. Probably the main reason I kind’ve quit that is because being polemical gets old after awhile, but it wasn’t just that; it is also because I perceive that folk who follow the aforementioned antagonists of EC are highly committed to these approaches already, and thus it is vain for me to try and engage with them at any kind of meaningful level here on the internet.

The above noted, I think I am going to try and get back to this a little more. I actually think it has value; primarily because, like it or not,, a lot of these groups outside of the fold of Evangelical Calvinism, continue to make massive in-road into the North American (and abroad) Evangelical world. And so I feel some burden, at least, to offer a God who can be consistently known as Love, instead of a God who is consistent more with Law (and I mean in the way he operates, in a mechanical and impersonal way).

So stay tuned.

Calvin on Christocentrism, Sounds like Brother Torrance

Here is John Calvin commenting on Colossians 1:15:

The sum is this — that God in himself, that is, in his naked majesty, is invisible, and that not to the eyes of the body merely, but also to the understandings of men, and that he is revealed to us in Christ alone, that we may behold him as in a mirror. For in Christ he shews us his righteousness, goodness, wisdom, power, in short, his entire self. We must, therefore, beware of seeking him elsewhere, for everything that would set itself off as a representation of God, apart from Christ, will be an idol. (John Calvin, “Commentaries on the Epistles of Paul the Apostle to the Philippians, Colossians, and Thessalonians,” trans. John Pringle, 150)

And on Philippians 2:6:

. . . As, then God is known by means of his excellences, and his works are evidences of his eternal Godhead, (Rom. I. 20,) so Christ’s divine essence is rightly proved from Christ’s majesty, which he possessed equally with the Father before he humbled himself. As to myself, at least, not even all devils would wrest this passage from me — inasmuch as there is in God a most solid argument, from his glory to his essence, which are two things that are inseparable. (John Calvin, “Commentaries on the Epistles of Paul the Apostle to the Philippians . . .,” 56)

Two eloquent statements, by Calvin, on (a.) Positive Theology, so that “knowledge of God” is limited to Christ alone — and not searching around for other “[sophist]icated” ways to talk about God (all you conceptually oriented scholastics out there). And (b.) on the relationship between the ontological/immanent nature of God, and the ‘evangelical’/economic nature of God. Calvin believed that the ‘works and miracles’ (“his glory”) are the external and univocal expression of His eternal being perichoretically united to the Father and the Holy Spirit. In other words, Calvin didn’t think that there was “a God behind the back of Jesus;” but that who Christ revealed Himself to be, was the ‘exact representation’ and externalization of the coinhering glory (Jn. 17) that He has always shared with the Father by the communion of the Holy Spirit. So as John the Evangelist records Jesus saying:

If ye had known me, ye also should have known my Father also: and from henceforth ye know him, and have seen him. 8. Philip saith unto him, Lord, shew us the Father, and it sufficeth us. 9. Jesus saith unto him, Have I been so long time with you, and yet hast thou not known me, Philip? He that hath seen me hath seen the Father; and how sayest thou then, shew us the Father? 10. Believest thou not that I am in the Father, and the Father in me? The words that I speak unto you I speak not of myself: but the Father that dwelleth in me, he doeth the works. 11. Believe me that I am in the Father, and the Father in me: or else believe me for the very works’ sake. John 14:7-11 KJV

This is all Calvin is getting at. When we do theology, when we work in the realm of “Christian epistemology,” we are strictly limited to doing Christology. If we want to know what the Father is like, if we want to talk about what God is like; then we are limited to looking at Jesus for all the proper boundaries and emphases that He wants us to know. Calvin would probably be appalled to see how his name has been applied to an theological methodology that has gone astray from this narrow framing provided by Calvin in his commentaries.

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Karl Barth on Billy Graham and Evangelism

I have taken the following quote from Kait Dugan’s blog, and a post that she has written, inclusive of this paragraph from Eberhard Busch (a student and research assistant to Karl Barth). In the quote, Busch is reflecting upon Karl Barth’s thoughts on famed evangelist Billy Graham; the quote notes Barth’s impression of Graham from his personal meetings with him, and then from personally hearing Graham preach at a “crusade.” I’ll let you read the quote, then comment on the other side:

“The same frontier was evident in a conversation Barth had with Billy Graham, in August 1960. His son Markus brought them together in Valais. However, this meeting was also a friendly one. ‘He’s a “jolly good fellow”, with whom one can talk easily and openly; one has the impression that he is even capable of listening which is not always the case with such trumpeters of the gospel.’ Two weeks later Barth has the same good impression after a second meeting with Graham, this time at home in Basle. But, ‘it was very different when we went to hear him let loose in the St Jacob stadium that same evening and witnessed his influence on the masses.’ ‘I was quite horrified. He acted like a madman and what he presented was certainly not the gospel.’ ‘It was the gospel at gun-point . . . He preached the law, not a message to make one happy. He wanted to terrify people. Threats – they always make an impression. People would much rather be terrified than pleased. The more one heats up hell for them, the more they come running.’ But even this success did not justify such preaching. It was illegitimate to make the gospel law or ‘to “push” it like an article for sale . . . We must leave the good God freedom to do his own work’.” (ht: Kait Dugan)

– Eberhard Busch, Karl Barth: His Life from Letters and Autobiographical Texts, 446.

Pretty critical, eh? Barth raises an intriguing point, though; especially for us American Evangelical types. I grew up in the house of an evangelist (pastor, my dad), and I myself, am quite an evangelist. The question that Barth raises is an old one, how do Law and Gospel relate? Luther and Calvin have their famous, and disparate approaches to answering that question; as does T.F. Torrance and Karl Barth.

Really, what is underneath Barth’s critique is his belief that grace precedes law, and maybe even eviscerates law. That grace grounds everything (nature), and so this should have impact upon the way we preach and proclaim the Gospel. Shouldn’t we proclaim the Gospel that starts with God’s love, in a way that God’s no, always comes in his yes for us (for the whole world!) in Christ?

This critique of Graham, I would imagine, will strike most of us kind of harsh. But I think it at least illustrates the import of how we think of the Gospel, and what it is, and what it does.

The Christ of North American Evangelicalism: A word on my Ecclesiological-Identity Crisis

On Facebook I wrote that I am having some ecclesiological-identity crisis, and tis true. I have grown up as an Fundy-Evangelical all my life (emphasis on the Evangelical side of that … culturally), and only, say, in the last few years have I began to become really disillusioned with it. For awhile I had been holding out hope that for some reason Evangelicalism could make the turn, and get past the inward turn of theological pietism that had given them their shape from their inception. But I have finally come to the conclusion—and I don’t mean just intellectually, but existentially—that North American Evangelicalism has given up the ghost (generally speaking), and it is a terrible feeling of loss that I am experiencing as a result.

schleiermacherI know, I know, you’re thinking; well, Bobby, just get in there and make a difference, don’t just sit there and gripe about it, do something about it! Blah! Thing is, I have tried. While it might sound like I am just disgruntled, it really isn’t reducible to that; the problem I have been having for years, and now is at an existential head, is that Evangelicalism in North America, by and large is dead, spiritually. Its center is man, and what blinds Evangelicalism to this, is that they assert in their piety that the center is Christ; but what they have failed to recognize, by and large, is that the Christ they say is the center, has been given his shape by their needs, their anxieties, their wants, their feelings, etc. And this is not the Christ that I have come to know. Indeed, Christ is full of grace and truth; indeed Christ looks out over people with compassion, like sheep without a shepherd. But this is different than the Christ of Evangelicalism. The Christ of Evangelicalism has been taken captive by collapsing him into our situation so closely, that the Christ of Evangelicalism cannot also be Lord, he is just our buddy. But then on the other extreme, there are those Evangelicals who have seen Christ as Lord, but only in a legalist fashion, which is given shape by their conception of what Lordliness means; a Lord is a brute sovereign who cares more about Law-keeping than he does about Love-making. Both expressions of Evangelicalism suffer from taking Christ captive by their conceptions of how he ought to be according to their desires; there is no room for Christ to be the Christ, and no space for Him to contradict us with His Word, because we have either made him our buddy, or we have made him our judge; and neither fit with the revelation of Himself as the true Lord.

This is just some of the problems I have been having with Evangelicalism; in fact, I would say that what I just kind of described is the source of the other symptomatic stuff that I have experienced over and over again at various Evangelical churches we have been a part of over the last many years. There is a sterility that makes me want to gag at most Evangelical churches, I feel oppressed, very often, when in attendance. There is no depth, and no desire to go deeper; in fact in most venues we have been a part of, going deeper is frowned upon as if going deeper would mean quenching the Spirit’s organic work in the body life of said church—which ironically and sadly I see just the opposite happening.

On Facebook I also said that I think North American Evangelicalism is the new theological Liberalism. What I meant was that in many ways I see Evangelicalism epitomizing what the so called Father of Theological Liberalism, Schleiermacher, was about; he was about a ‘feeling’ religion, wherein the Christian religion is based upon an existential category of belief that is resonant deep down within the heart of the individual. And so ultimately, the Christian religion becomes a matter of projecting a personal belief about God, assenting to it corporately in the church, and worshiping this God. But this God, then really, is only the worship of the self, the worship of the self projected out upon a conception of God who then ends up really only being the self (even corporately and methodologically), instead of the true God revealed in Jesus Christ. Karl Barth offered another way against this conception of God, and yet he realized that for better or worse Schleiermacher was here to stay among Protestants. Here is what he wrote of Schleiermacher’s impact:

[L]ittle need be said about the importance of the subject and the legitimacy of devoting a whole semester to it. Scheiermacher merits detailed historical consideration and study even if only because he was the one in whom the great struggle of Christianity with the strivings and achievements of the German spirit in 1750–1830, in whose light or shadow we still stand today, took place in a way which would still be memorable even if he were dead and his theological work had been transcended. None of his contemporaries with the possible exception of Hegel took up that struggle so comprehensively or with such concern, and none of the theologians of his age has anything like the same representative siginificance for what took place at that time. But Schleiermacher is not dead for us and his theological work has not been transcended. If anyone still speaks today in Protestant theology as though he were still among us, it is Schleiermacher. We study Paul and the reformers, but we see with the eyes of Schleiermacher and think along the same lines as he did. This is true even when we criticize or reject the most important of his thelogoumena or even all of them. Wittingly and willingly or not, Schleiermacher’s method and presuppositions are the typical ferment in almost all theological work; I need only mention the basic principle, which is so much taken for granted that it is seldom stated, that the primary theme of his work, both historically and systematically, is religion, piety, Christian self-consciousness. Who is not at one with Schleiermacher in this regard? In 1859 the Bremen preacher F. L. Mallet wrote concerning Schleiermacher: “It once seemed [even then!] as though his day was over, as though he had done his work. . . . But it is not the same with Schleiermacher as with the discovering of thinking faith [Paulus in Heidelberg]: he has a tenacious life, and to the surprise of his detractors and despisers he is suddenly remembered in a way and from an angle which cannot be overlooked or missed” (“Biographie,” 16). [Karl Barth, “The Theology Of Schleiermacher,” xiii]

And unfortunately, to me, this Schleiermacherian piety has gone full circle in Evangelicalism, and indeed has rendered, in my opinion, Evangelicalism, impotent to deal with their own problems, and the problems of the world.

I will have more to say later. I should add, that I realize there are millions (literally) of good intentioned, Christ loving people within Evangelicalism; but I don’t think good intentions have enough resource to make up the deficit of a Christian religion that is ultimately sourced and projected from the self, instead of the Christ. I am sure many many will disagree with me, and even write me off at this point, but I think over time, you might come to the same conclusion that I have currently.

Worshiping God Aright: Torrance and Calvin on ‘radical inversion’

We were created to worship. Humanity will worship, left to themselves; themselves, and various post-scripts of themselves. So what is the key to worshipping in the way we were created for? Thomas Torrance has a good answer as he continues to comment on Calvin’s doctrine on sin and ‘Total Perversity’; he writes:

[I]n order to worship God aright, that is, in accordance with the motion of grace, man must learn to serve God against his own nature, [Calvin’s, Sermon on Job 10:16f.; 37:1 f.; Commentary on Romans 7:9 ff.] “acknowledging that he lives not by his own power but by the kindness of God alone, and that his life is not an instrinsic good, but proceeds from God alone. He cannot otherwise retain it than by acknowledging that it was received of God.” [Calvin’s, Commentary on Gen. 2:9] This means that Calvin defines the life-motion of man made in the image of God as the motion of faith, while the contrary motion of unthankfulness and rebellion he speaks of as incredulity and unbelief. “God does not manifest Himself to men otherwise than through the Word, so neither is His majesty maintained, nor does His worship remain secure among us any longer than while we obey His Word. Therefore unbelief is the root of defection; just as faith alone unites us to God.” [Calvin’s, Commentary on Gen. 3:6; Institutes 2.2.4; 2.2.12] Hence knowledge of God is possible only if the inverted motion of the soul in mind  and will is re-inverted by an acknowledgment of grace such that it is dragged out of its self-assertion or concupiscence, out of its self-imprisonment and blindness, in order to find life and being only as deposited in the Word. The radical inversion of all human wisdom and understanding that this entails indicates how deep going and total is the perversion of sin. A complete conversion of man’s relation with God is required. [brackets mine] (T. F. Torrance, Calvin’s Doctrine of Man, 115)

The cool thing that happens when you read Torrance on Calvin is that you get both at the same time; you get Calvin, but you get Torrance’s Calvin, which for me is the best of both worlds. Anyway, if you are struggling with how you ought to worship God; then you ought to consider radical inversion!

*This post dovetails somewhat with the last one, where we so both Torrance and Calvin thinking from an Augustinian frame, wherein the locus (or location) for a proper understanding of what constitutes humanity is by God’s grace in Christ, and thus the turn elsewhere is into the abyss of ourselves or nothingness. -repost

Thomas Torrance and St. Augustine in Conversation: Creatio ex Nihilo and imago Dei

Matthew Drever in the Harvard Theological Review offers a nice argument using a doctrine of creation and the imago Dei to dispel the common misunderstanding about Augustine’s so called psychological conception of the Trinity; i.e. the inner structure of anthropology (mind, will, affections) served as the lens by which Augustine supposedly conceived of the inner relation of God’s life as Triune—so a sort of proto-social-Trinitarianism. In order to understand augustine2Drever’s full argument, and how he utilizes Christian conceptions of creation and imago Dei, you will have to read his essay in full.

Within Drever’s essay, and as he is dispelling said myth, as I already noted, he engages with the imago Dei as a lens through which to reify Augustine’s understanding of the movement from God to creation, and how that is mediated through the images (humans) of the image (the Son, Jesus) in the soteriological combine (so to speak). And it is this that I find very resonant with my own Torrancean understanding of the primacy of Christ as the ground and condition of what it means to be human, and in fact “saved” or reconciled to God—which then funds human conception (as conceived from the Christ as the imago Dei, simpliciter) in regard to God, and the economy of His triune life. Here is how Drever opens his comments on imago Dei in Augustine:

[A]ccording to Augustine, all creation receives its order—its essence, or definition—through the Son. For most of creation this order comes via the rationes or ideas, eternally held within the Son, which are infused in creation as the rationes seminales. These seminal ideas provide the pre-established structure that governs the coming into existence of material objects. The order imposed on material creation through these ideas allows for the delineation of creation into a genus/species framework. Humans, however, are unique in material creation in that their order—essence, definition—does not follow pre-established rationes seminales, but rather arises through their turning to and recognition of God. This is what it means for humans to be created according to the image and likeness of God. One consequence of this is that the essence of human nature cannot be understood within the genus/species paradigm that orders the rest of the material creation. The true essence of human nature is defined (if this term remains appropriate) by how it images God, and not the one God of Plotinus but the Trinity—”man is the image of the Trinity.”

Augustine is careful to differentiate the way the Son images God from the way in which humans do so. This is an important distinction, and one in which the key Nicene trinitarian themes of divine simplicity, inseparable operation, and unchangeability are operative. The Son is distinct from creation precisely because the Son is God as the Father is God. The Son is unchanging wisdom and blessedness as the Father is (and so also the Spirit). Augustine, being the close reader that he is, contrasts this with humans who are according to the image rather than the image itself. One way of parsing this distinction is in terms of the doctrine of creatio ex nihilo. In Gen. litt., Augustine describes the human imaging of God at creation as the turning of humans to God and compares it with the redemptive turning of humans back to God that occurs though [sic] the Word. In both instances, this turning is a movement away from nothingness. In the latter case, it is a turning from the moral nothingness of sin; in the former case, it is a turning from the nothingness out of which all finite existence arises.

This has significant consequences for understanding the project of Trin. If the true essence of human nature is the imago Dei and this is given in the turning of humans to God from the nothingness out of which they were created, then the resources available within the self for understanding God are also given in this turning to God. The self opens to God or to nothing, so that apart from God the self has no real or true form through which to understand God. Hence, Augustine’s inward turn into the self has as its precondition God’s self-revelatory actions of creating and redeeming the self, in which God is revealed as the triune God. [Matthew Drever, “The Self Before God? Rethinking Augustine’s Trinitarian Thought,”  Harvard Theological Review/Volume 100/Issue 02/April 2007, pp. 240-41.]

So for Augustine, Christ is the key, and not in an overly neo-Platonized and psychologized philosophical way, but in a Christian, Christic way.

I will place this into conversation with Thomas Torrance’s conception of things with Augustine (as described by Drever), at a later date. There are some significant parallels here.

What is Natural Theology, and Its Persistence in the Christian Church

If ‘what’ natural theology is, is still escaping you, then let me try to explain it again; well, let me have George Hunsinger explain it for you, at least in the way that Karl Barth understood what natural theology was, and for what reason it continues to persist, especially and primarily in the Christian church. Here is Hunsinger on Barth and an explication of what natural theology entails:

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[I]t is this conception of human existence as in itself hostile to grace, even and especially when confronted by God’s Word, that underlies Barth’s analysis of the persistence of natural theology in the church. Natural theology, it might be said, is presented as a theology that violates the essential precepts of objectivism, actualism, and particularism [all three identified as regulatory and organizing principles for Barth’s theological methodology]. Not mediated, not miraculous, and not unique in kind is the way our access to God appears, from the standpoint of natural theology. According to natural theology, as Barth understands it, our access to God is not something mediated exclusively in and through Jesus Christ; rather it is, at least in part, immediately open to us (and we to it). Again, it is not something miraculously enacted and bestowed (in and by Jesus Christ) by virtue of special and self-renewing event, but is rather, at least in part, at the disposal of or own innate capacities. Again, it is not something uniquely grounded in itself both ontically and noetically, but is rather, at least in part, independently and generally given to us apart from the particular history of divine self-revelation as centered in Christ. Natural theology is thus conceived as a theology according to which our access to God is not mediated but immediate, not miraculous but natural, and not unique in kind but generally given. [brackets mine] [George Hunsinger, How To Read Karl Barth: The Shape of His Theology, 99-100 nook.]

So take notice, the rejection of Barth’s alternative to natural theology, the analogy of faith/relation, for knowledge of God is based upon an anthropology that is not needy, but full of self-glory. What is built upon this exaltation of a self-glorious human existence is what, well, is ‘natural’! We would rather build our knowledge of God up on a verification process whereby we get to dictate the verification parameters, instead of allowing the object/subject under consideration to dictate those for us in ever opening and increasing ways as we engage with, well, God in Christ, in ever refreshing and more intimate ways. Natural theology is built on an human existence still clinging to the hubris that the cross left an aspect (our intellects) of our existence alive and well, and it is thereupon which we have the capacity in ourselves to provide the controls through which we engage with God in Christ. Natural theology, then, operates from a mode of fear, and the lie, wherein the human is enclosed and conquered by a posture of fear; fear that he or she might be duped by something, or someone that he or she does not have control over.

There are other things to be said, and other implications to be noticed. But hopefully you have a better feel for what a Barthian notion of ‘against natural theology’ is, because you now have a better conception of what Karl Barth was against [as what he notoriously called, ‘anti-Christ’, and you can now see why].

If Jesus is not the ground of Humanity and Salvation, then Who?

I sincerely wish people could finally get this. I don’t say this in a patronizing way, or in a way where I am intending to insult those who have not gotten (or accepted) this yet; but my concern is that people are failing to appreciate the barthderspiegelconsistency with which they say that they affirm that Jesus is both fully man and fully God (the Chalcedon formula), and yet stop short, and don’t proceed to follow the logic of this to its conclusion. That is, as even John Calvin understood (in his mystical union with Christ theology), without receiving through participation who we are as gift from the life of Christ for us, then we have no substantial ground upon which to live as redeemed human beings in right relation with God. In other words, as Protestant theology has always affirmed, salvation is something that comes from with-out us, and not from something intrinsic within us (like created grace or something); in order to radically affirm this, and the logical implications of Chalcedon (that Jesus is both fully man and God in his one life), we ought to accept something like what Karl Barth (through George Hunsinger) suggests here:

[…] To say that Jesus Christ is the “pioneer of faith” (Heb. 12:2), Barth suggests, is not to say that his faith is merely the exemplar of ours, but that it is the vicarious ground and source of our faith. “There is vicarious faith,” writes Barth, “… only in the form of the faith which Jesus Christ established for us all as the archegos tes pisteos (Heb. 12:2), who empowers us for our own faith, and summons us to it, even as he stands there in our stead with his faith. Through his faith, we are not only moved but liberated to believe for ourselves” (IV/4, 186). Our faith may be said to exist “as a predicate” of his in the sense that whatever is real and true “in this Subject” is the foundation for whatever is correspondingly real and true in us (cf. II/2, 539). In short, our subjective apprehension of God does not exist independently, but only insofar as its source, mediation, and ground are found in the humanity of Jesus Christ. [George Hunsinger, How To Read Karl Barth: The Shape of His Theology, 96, Nook.]

One reason this matters, the existential reason, is that it keeps us from looking into the abyss of ourselves as the source of faith and trust towards God; something, that as us Reformed would like to emphasize, that is not present in us, but without us in a ground and life that is stable, secure, and free in itself–God’s life in Christ. If Jesus is not the ground of our humanity and salvation, then who is?

Calvin’s Scripture Paradigm and The Relationship of Theology to Bible Study

Randall Zachman makes a great point in highlighting Calvin’s understanding of the relationship between Biblical exegesis/interpretation and “Sound theology”/dogma:

. . . The Institutes and the commentaries are intended by Calvin to open access to Scripture for future pastors, whereas the catechism and the weekly sermons are meant to open access to Scripture for members of the congregation. For Calvin, the proper understanding of Scripture depends on familiarity both with the summary of the rudiments of doctrine and with Scripture itself. Those who lack this kind of training, even though they are expert in the Hebrew language, will inevitably misunderstand Scripture. “But it generally happens with men who are not exercised in the Scripture, nor imbued with sound theology, although well acquainted with the Hebrew language, yet hallucinate and fall into mistakes even in first rudiments.” [Calvin’s Comm. on Ps. 73:26] As a teacher and preacher, Calvin sought to exercise his students in Scripture and imbue them with sound theology; . . . [brackets mine] (Randall C. Zachman, “John Calvin As Teacher, Pastor, And Theologian: The Shape of His Writings and Thought,” 108)

This is what dawned on me somewhere between Bible College and Seminary. When I went to Bible College I was full of the idealism that I was going to learn the Biblical languages (so I minored in NT Greek), and thus be able to thoroughly understand and interpret the concepts and doctrine of Scripture (on that basis alone). What I began to realize, as I did syntactical analysis, is that even knowing the “languages,” I still had to make interpretive decisions (even in doing translation work — from the Greek to English). So I went on to seminary and did a Masters thesis which was an “exegetical/language” based thesis (on I Corinthians) — although my passage was really inspired by Martin Luther’s theology of the cross — and I took further language classes (like Hebrew and Greek); but this time it was alongside historical theology (not just systematic like in the undergrad). Anyway, what I’m getting at, and what has led me down the path I’ve been on now since seminary, is the point Zachman is highlighting on Calvin’s thinking. That is that just knowing the Biblical languages isn’t enough. Every Biblical exegete operates and moves within a theological milieu or system; and this “system” is going to impact the way that particular exegete makes his/her interpretative decisions as they approach the text of Scripture (it’s just how it is). So what motivates me is to engage the implications, the “inner logic” of Scripture (e.g. deal with the underlying theological framework that the Scripture writers and Apostles assume in their largely occasional writings) so that I am aware of what is informing my “interpretive decisions” as I approach the text. I think this is what Calvin was on about, and I think it’s something we all need to be mindful of as we endeavor to grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Furthermore, working through the dogmatic concepts implied by the text and Christ’s life is not just a negative concern (my point above: e.g. “so that I am aware of what is informing my ‘interpretive decision'”), but there is a very positive side to doing the “inner logic” stuff too. And that is that we become aware of the implied intentions of the particular writers and Holy Spirit as we engage the text of Scripture. In short, we become quickly aware that the canon of Scripture has a very Trinitarian/cruciformed-christoformed shape to it. The grammar and syntax of the text is really only intended to be in service to this undeniable and great reality: Jesus Christ!

“You search the Scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; it is these that testify about Me; . . . ” ~John 5.39 (NASBU)

*repost from quite awhile ago.