Reformation Historian, Historical Theologian

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Calvin: Refugee and Pilgrim

Calvin’s Self-Identity as Pilgrim

John Calvin, born Jean Cauvin, was a Frenchman who spent most of his life outside of France. He was forced to flee his native country because of his involvement with the rebellion against the Roman Catholic church, the Reformation. Scholars have commented on how Calvin’s experience as an exile, as a refugee, shaped him as a theologian and pastor. And as an exile and refugee, Calvin embraced the age-old Christian image of the Christian life as a pilgrimage.

Bruce Gordon, in his excellent biography of Calvin, writes about how this experience of exile was formative for Calvin.

From his earliest Christian writings the young Frenchman described the Christian life with metaphors of journeying and pilgrimage. The imagery was as old as the ancient books of the Hebrew Bible, but Calvin’s brilliance lay in his ability to infuse old traditions with new life. Conversion, he believed, was the beginning point of a journey, not its conclusion. Whether speaking in terms of mental anguish or of sudden conversion he sought to explain how God had acted to change his life and put him on a new course, to send him out in a different direction. 

BRUCE GORDON, CALVIN, 34

This experience of exile from France, his homeland, and from the Roman Catholic form of the faith, the faith of his childhood—both of which must have been traumatic—comes out in his first theological writing, Psychopannychia. The title, loosely translated, means “soul sleep,” and refers to the doctrine that the soul dies with the body and is resurrected at death. It was taught by the Avignon Pope John XXII and later condemned as a heresy. In Calvin’s day, the doctrine was revived by some Anabaptists, but also, more importantly, by Michael Servetus, who also denied the doctrine of the Trinity. Calvin wrote this treatise in 1534, but did not publish it right away, instead publishing his summary of the Protestant faith, The Institutes of the Christian Religion. For Calvin, the pilgrimage that is the Christian life ends with the vision of God, even before the resurrection of the body at the last day. This is not a novel or unusual doctrine; it was also the teaching of the church catholic, with only occasional exceptions, such as in the case of Pope John XXII. To deny that, Calvin believed, was to deny the clear teaching of Scripture and to deny the true Christian hope.

 

Again, Gordon writes about Calvin’s Psychopannychia:

In this meditation on the Bible Calvin set out a theme that he would continue to develop throughout his life—the Christian life as a pilgrimage through the world towards eternity.

BRUCE GORDON, CALVIN44

Calvin looked to the passage in Hebrews 11:8-12 where Abraham receives the promises of God and, exiled from his homeland of Ur, lives as a pilgrim and wayfarer, never seeing the fulfillment of the promises the Lord made to him. Calvin writes in Psychopannychia:

The Apostle speaks of Abraham and his descendants who inhabited a foreign land among strangers, not only as exiles, certainly as aliens, barely keeping a roof over their bodies in lowly shanties. This was in obedience to God’s command that he gave to Abraham, that he should leave his land and his relations. God had promised them what he had not yet shown them. Therefore, they welcomed the promises from a distance and died in the confident faith that one day God would make good on his promises. In keeping with that faith, they confessed that they had no permanent residence on the earth and that there was a homeland for them beyond the earth that they longed for, namely, in heaven.

CALVIN, PSYCHOPANNYCHIA, CO 5:218 (MY TRANSLATION)

Looking ahead to being in the presence of his Savior after this life, Calvin compares it to the Israelites entering the promised land, and the holy city of Jerusalem. In this, Calvin reflects the tradition of Christian spirituality that sees Jerusalem as the symbol of unhindered fellowship with God, as depicted in Revelation 21:10.

 

 

Thus, the souls of the saints, which have escaped the hands of the enemy, are at peace after death. They exist in sumptuousness, of which it is said, “They will go from abundance to abundance.” But when the Heavenly Jerusalem has risen up in her glory, and Christ, the true Solomon, the Prince of Peace, sits in his exalted judgment seat, the true Israelites will reign with their king.

CALVIN, PSYCHOPANNYCHIA, CO 5:214 (MY TRANSLATION)

But it’s very important to note that the traditional, Christian view of pilgrimage is not a journey of self-discovery. Nor is it a search for an unknown God. Nor is it a solitary, self-focused enterprise; there are companions on the journey. Fleming Rutledge brought up this potential objection with me when I was posting about the topic of spiritual pilgrimage in connection with Lisa Deam’s beautiful new book, 3000 Miles to Jesus. The warning is well-taken, given the individualistic focus of modern Western spirituality and its tendency to create one’s own reality and to focus on our own achievements rather than on what God has done for us. 3000 Miles to Jesus describes a very different activity, one centered on Christ and what he has already done for us. She addresses this head-on:

Focusing on our destination sounds distinctly countercultural today.  Often, when it comes to pilgrimage, we hear sayings like “It’s the journey that matters” or “The search is the meaning.” Yet this viewpoint would have been unimaginable for medieval pilgrims. Sometimes we forget that, historically, a pilgrimage almost always had an endpoint. The pilgrim arrived! The goal was attained! The journey was completed! Yes, the act of travel might itself have been transformational, but it led pilgrims to a single destination the way a well-shot arrow hits its mark.

LISA DEAM, 3000 MILES TO JESUS, 35

Rutledge pointed out that what is most important is Jesus’ journey to us. Indeed it is, and Lisa Deam writes about just that fact, that Jesus came to us to draw us to himself:

But how will the pilgrim get there? How will she survive the turbulent waters? How will any of us? “So that we might also have the means to go,” writes Augustine, “the one we were longing to go to came here from there. And what did he make? A wooden raft for us to cross the sea on.” A raft might seem a bit rickety for the raging sea, but Augustine explains: “For no one can cross the sea of this world unless carried over it on the cross of Christ.”

LISA DEAM, 3000 MILES TO JESUS110-111

In his day, Calvin repudiated the practice of pilgrimages as a means to earn merit by one’s own exertions. But the biblical theme of the Christian life or the life of the church as a pilgrimage is dear to him, just as it was to many throughout the history of Christian thought. Not a pilgrimage of self-discovery. Not a pilgrimage to accrue merits. Not a pilgrimage to make oneself worthy. It is the journey through this world, this life, to our true home, and to our Lord, who made the pilgrimage from heaven to earth to be our Savior. As such, the Christian life is not a pilgrimage of works, but a pilgrimage of grace. Not a journey of self-justification, but of the Spirit’s sanctification.

 

 

Along the way, we have practices to help us on this lifelong trek. Lisa Deam writes of the practice of prayer, for example:

“For prayer is its own pilgrimage and a mountainous way. It transforms us into travelers who walk a steep and winding path. When we pause to pray or meditate, we leave behind our surroundings in the outer world, with its unceasing clamor, and journey to what Saint Bonaventure called the interior Jerusalem—that place deep within where Jesus awaits. In its own way, the inner road to Jerusalem is as demanding as the physical quest of the Alps.”

LISA DEAM, 3000 MILES TO JESUS80

Pilgrimage in Calvin’s Institutes

 

 

As I work on a new translation of Calvin’s Institutes of the Christian Religion, the image of pilgrimage and its related themes show up frequently. So, for example, Calvin interprets the Old Testament promises to Abraham as ultimately pointing to the New Jerusalem:

We see that all these things [the promises to the patriarchs] do not properly apply to the land of our pilgrimage, or to the earthly Jerusalem, but to the true homeland of the faithful and that heavenly city in which the Lord has decreed blessing and life forever.

CALVIN, INSTITUTES, 2.11.2

The Holy Spirit sustains us in our journey, one in which we might feel like “the walking dead,” spiritual zombies, so to speak:

For the same reason [the Spirit] is called “the pledge and seal” of our inheritance (2 Cor. 1:22) because, as we are making pilgrimage in the world and are like dead people, from heaven he makes us alive in such a way that we are certain that our salvation is secure in God’s dependable protection. 

CALVIN, INSTITUTES, 3.1.3

We can get distracted from our destination, tempted to take a permanent detour to enjoy pleasures and diversions along the way. But Calvin urges us to meditate on that future life, to stay focused on the goal:

On the contrary, Christ teaches us to continue as pilgrims in the world so that we will not lose or be deprived of our heavenly inheritance.

CALVIN, INSTITUTES, 3.7.3

We can use and enjoy God’s early gifts, but we are also called to recognize that we do not live for these things; they are provisions for the journey:

Through his Word, the Lord prescribes this measure [for the use of earthly goods] when he teaches that the present life is like a pilgrimage for his people in which they are making their way toward the heavenly kingdom.

CALVIN, INSTITUTES, 3.10.1

Contrary to the late medieval idea of striving to become deserving and anxiously trying to accrue merit with God, Calvin describes the Christian life as a pilgrimage of sanctification. It arises out of gratitude for the justification we have received in Christ.

In the same way, if we have died with Christ (as suits his members) we must seek the things that are above and be pilgrims in the world, that we may aspire to heaven where our treasure is.

CALVIN, INSTITUTES, 3.16.2

The journey is not one of drudgery, Calvin says, but one in which we experience joy because of our salvation in Christ:

The sole and perfect happiness is known to us—even in this earthly pilgrimage. But this happiness sets our hearts afire more and more each day to desire it until it satisfies us with its full fruition.

CALVIN, INSTITUTES, 3.25.2

Finally, Calvin rejects asceticism, and he thinks it an act of ingratitude to reject what he sees as the Lord’s gifts, his supplies, provisions, and aids for the journey. He numbers the civil government among these gifts, and so he denies the teaching of the Anabaptists that the civil government is irredeemable and to be repudiated by Christians:

But if it is the will of God that we make pilgrimage upon the earth while we aspire to our true country, and if that same pilgrimage requires the use of such aids [as the civil government], then those who take this away from people deprive them of their own humanity.

CALVIN, INSTITUTES, 4.20.2

Sin has made us exiles from our true home. We are refugees from the Garden. But Christ, who made pilgrimage from heaven to earth for us (Phil. 2:5-11), guides us by his Word and Spirit, in the company of our fellow travelers, toward the New Jerusalem.   

 

Recovering from Biblical Manhood and Womanhood

Recovering from Biblical Manhood and Womanhood. How the Church Needs to Rediscover her Purpose. By Aimee Byrd. Grand Rapids: Zondervan Reflective, 2020. 235 pp. $18.99.

            It is an unfortunate development that the terms complementarian and egalitarian have come to describe the position one takes on the ordination of women to ministry. Egalitarians do not deny that, in a general sense, masculine and feminine traits complement each other in society and in the church. Nor do complementarians necessarily deny that women are ontologically equal to men. Not necessarily. But the past several decades have witnessed a rising and more aggressive form of complementarianism that describes women as ontologically weaker; it claims that women are defined by submission to male authority. To bolster this teaching of general male authority and leadership, and a corresponding general female submission and receptivity, a few of these “hard complementarian” theologians projected their gender categories back into the immanent trinity, resulting in a teaching now referred to as ESS, the doctrine of the eternal subordination of the Son. In 2015, Aimee Byrd, who styles herself “The Housewife Theologian,” was one of the first to call out this transgression into heretical Trinity doctrine, and her suspicions that this was a form of subordinationist heterodoxy were confirmed by a number of leading experts on trinitarian doctrine.

            In this book, Byrd examines that hyper-authoritarian, male-centered movement among very conservative churches. Her title is a cheeky play on the title of the 1991 book, Recovering Biblical Manhood and Womanhood, produced by the parachurch organization specifically founded to promote male authority and leadership and female submission, the Council on Biblical Manhood and Womanhood (CBMW). One of the problematic developments Byrd calls out in her book is that the CBMW has produced two “statements” that they encourage church leaders to adopt, the 1987 Danvers Statement, which states that church leadership is reserved for men and condemns biblical interpretation that begs to differ, and the 2017 Nashville Statement, which affirms heterosexuality and condemns homosexuality and “transgenderism,” while betraying no familiarity with the reality of sexual dysphoria. Byrd points out that parachurch organizations have no business putting out these quasi-creedal statements for the adoption of churches. It is the job of the church to do so. But, as Byrd points out, churches have outsourced much of their discipling work to such parachurch organizations.

            The cover of Byrd’s volume points to its major theme, taken from the 1892 short story, The Yellow Wallpaper, by women’s rights advocate Charlotte Perkins Gilman. The yellow wallcovering functions in much the same way as gaslighting, keeping persons from seeing the truth of their situation. Byrd argues, persuasively, that there is a kind of “yellow wallpaper” that dulls the senses and obscures the authentic biblical view of women among many Christians and churches today, and particularly in the extreme complementarian movement, in which the patriarchal and racially-incendiary teachings of Douglas Wilson and his disciples should also be included. Byrd aims to peel away the wallpaper, often comprised of unconscious social stereotypes, that keeps us from seeing the authentic biblical picture of men and women. This picture is not centered on “authority and submission, strength and neediness” (22), but on men and women truly complementing each other in the family, society, and the life of the church as co-workers and partners.

            After this all-important introduction, the book proceeds in three parts, the first of which examines how men and women read Scripture. Byrd peels back the yellow wallpaper to expose how gender-specific study Bibles reflect patronizing stereotypes of women and assume that men cannot learn from women. Byrd goes on to demonstrate how Scripture, while reflecting a patriarchal context, also challenges that patriarchy. She reviews a number of “gynocentric interruptions” in scripture, episodes in which women take center stage, disrupting the usual male-centered narrative, including the narratives of the Hebrew midwives in Egypt, Rahab (whom she relates quite effectively to Jesus’ encounter with the Canaanite woman), Ruth, the judge Deborah, and Elizabeth and Mary the mother of Jesus. These women are not merely passive and submissive. They take initiative. They lead. She emphasizes how many women in Scripture act as “tradents,” handing down biblical teaching to the next generation. Curiously missing here are the names of Lois and Eunice, who taught young Timothy the faith and are clear examples of women teaching the faith. However, Byrd likely wants to emphasize how so many women in scripture teach and lead adult men, which is more controversial for strict complementarians.

            In the second part, Byrd talks about how discipleship in the church is a joint enterprise involving both men and women. Here she peels away CBMW’s claims to represent a biblical view of male-female relations. She questions why churches are looking to parachurch organizations both for discipling members and for considering issues such as gender and sexuality. She exposes how the CBMW perspective, which claims that men and women are inexorably characterized by authority and submission, is shaped profoundly by cultural assumptions, not solid biblical exegesis. She refutes the idea that the Bible teaches different ends, static and unchanging roles, or different virtues for men and women. She rejects the claims of CBMW that tend to make the affirmation of male authority and female submission the litmus test of orthodoxy and the central teaching of the faith, as Owen Strachan did with his audacious claim that “the gospel has a complementarian structure” (121). Byrd only parenthetically mentions intersex persons (121­–122), albeit in a gracious way, but she never brings up the issue of gender dysphoria, which is a pressing issue today. A few sentences commending humility and graciousness in such situations would have been welcome.

In the final section, Byrd examines the responsibility of every believer. Here she focuses on men and women as allies and coworkers in the work of discipleship, transmitting the faith, and worship. Byrd consistently draws on some of the leading voices in Reformed theology and biblical studies, as well as outstanding scholars from other traditions. She believes that it is important for both women and men to know their doctrine, and she exemplifies this learnedness herself. She frequently corrects misconceptions, such as the idea that Eve’s creation subsequent to that of Adam implies that Eve is inferior; rather, Eve’s creation has an eschatological meaning, pointing to the man’s end and glory. She foreshadows both humanity’s redemption as the Bride of Christ, and the Bride of the book of Revelation, representing the completion of the redemption of humanity and of all creation.

Byrd affirms how the differences between men and women are positive and, in fact, genuinely complementary, and she encourages churches that have exclusively male ministers not to conduct ministry that is exclusively male-centered. Byrd, who affirms male-only ordination but eschews the labels complementarian and egalitarian, suggests (without citing examples) that egalitarians gloss over these differences. Here one must object that persons have become egalitarian precisely because they have witnessed how women minister and lead in ways that contribute something that men simply cannot; men and women in ordained ministry complement each other and fundamentally improve the work of ministry. But Byrd intentionally avoids the topic of ordination, for good reason. She is especially addressing a rather conservative audience; she speaks from within that conservative tradition and calls believers to a more biblical and more affirming attitude toward women in the church, even if they continue to restrict ordination to males.

Byrd shows that women in the New Testament helped to plant churches and also led house churches. She emphasizes the confidence and authority Paul placed in Phoebe when he entrusted her with delivering his crucially important Letter to the Romans, though she hesitates to affirm that she held the office of deacon. Byrd demonstrates how Paul does indeed refer to Junia as an apostle, though she recognizes how perilous this acknowledgment is for those who claim ministry is reserved exclusively for men (227). Byrd’s arguments are strong, particularly where she critiques the rigid, universalizing claims of CBMW and its flirtation with anti-Nicene heresy. Her biblical interpretation is solid, and often it is fascinating. Some points are more debatable, such as her acceptance of a reading of the highly-contested Eph. 4:12 that denies equipping the saints for ministry and instead emphasizes formal ministry, or the allegorical interpretation of the Song of Songs; but both of these issues are tangential. One matter that is regrettable and perplexing is a consistent and conspicuous lack of editorial care on the part of the publisher; this mars the book’s style and frequently interferes with the communicative flow of Byrd’s argument. Byrd’s book deserved better.

Byrd’s guide to recovery from the extreme positions of CBMW comes at an important moment; some evangelicals are advocating overt patriarchy as the one faithful and biblical model of church, family, and society life. It is also a moment in which Christians, churches, and Christian organizations are facing the reality of abuse in churches, or sometimes refusing to face that reality. No doubt, Byrd’s volume will truly enable persons, especially women but also men, to recover from the unbiblical constraints of hyper-complementarianism.

Shortly after the publication of this volume, Byrd was vilified in her own conservative Presbyterian and evangelical circles. The Alliance of Confessing Evangelicals hosted her blog and the podcast that she shared with theologian Carl Trueman and Pastor Todd Pruitt. When she published her book and interacted with some of her critics, the ACE cut ties with her; she had to move her blog and she was removed from the podcast. Moreover, she was the subject of vile, misogynistic attacks and ridicule by Presbyterian and Reformed pastors on social media, which were later exposed to the public. Not only does this behavior serve to prove her point, it also raises a serious challenge to Byrd herself and to the churches she is addressing. Can churches that prohibit women from ordained church leadership—even if they manage to avoid the hyper-complementarianism of CBMW—still affirm women’s gifts and crucial importance to the church? Can such churches take women seriously as coworkers in discipleship and the church’s mission? Historically speaking, they have not. The prospects seem doubtful. Maybe there is still one more bit of yellow wallpaper that needs to be torn away for women to truly be able to thrive according to the biblical model that Aimee Byrd so convincingly brings to light.

—Dr. Raymond A. (Randy) Blacketer

Imaginative Reading

I have not updated this blog for several weeks. Instead, I have been reconnecting with my family after nine weeks of separation. But I have also been participating in a class at Calvin Theological Seminary called “Imaginative Reading for Creative Preaching.” It is led by Calvin Seminary President Dr. Cornelius (Neal) Plantinga and Truett Theological Seminary Professor Hulitt Gloer. (Truett is connected with Baylor University,  a Baptist institution in Waco, Texas). This course is producing profound enjoyment, and hopefully, stirring up my brain to creatively and effectively tell the story of God’s love from the pulpit.

In the first week we read an American classic, The Grapes of Wrath, by John Steinbeck. This is a story that many young American students are assigned to read in highs school or college, long before they are able to appreciate it. One enduring image is that of Ma Joad, who is the bulwark of strength, a citadel of endurance during times of extreme scarcity and trouble; she holds the family, including the menfolk, together when they are at the breaking point. It is a story of hope, and how persons can only thrive when they work together. The (ex-) preacher in the story, Jim Casey, is also very interesting, because he only truly discovers his calling after he gives up preaching in the conventional sense (in this case, whipping up the faithful into a frenzy of emotion and glossalalia). He begins to find the holy everywhere, and in everyday things. And ultimately he gives his life defending the rights of the poor Okie immigrant farmers. It’s no coincidence that he shares his initials with Jesus Christ.

Lizzie Bright and the Buckminster Boy

“The world turns and the world spins, the tide runs in and the tide runs out, and there is nothing in the world more beautiful and more wonderful in all its evolved forms than two souls who look at each other straight on. And there is nothing more woeful and soul-saddening than when they are parted. Turner knew that everything in the world rejoices in the touch, and everything in the world laments in the losing.”
Gary D. Schmidt, Lizzie Bright and the Buckminster Boy, 215-216.

This is the gist of a book I recently finished, alleged to be a children’s book, but moving to any moveable soul however old. It’s about a boy, Turner Buckminster, the son of a preacher, who moves to cold, hard Maine, and has his life changed in the meeting of a young black girl, Lizzie Bright. His life is transformed in the encounter with unchristian Christians who want to remove Lizzie and “her kind” from the island community in which they live, and who in fact did so (both in the novel and in fact, in 1912). His life is transformed by looking straight into the eye of a whale, and into the eyes of a father who in his last moment finally takes a stand for what is right. And he is transformed by the loss of all that is dear to him, or nearly all. There are important things he does not lose, an understanding parent, an enemy-turned-friend. This is a book that, though profoundly sad in a number of ways, is also hopeful, and definitely worth reading and discussing.

Gary D. Schmidt is also the author of The Wednesday Wars, which, though not quite as sad, moved me deeply as well.

Neerlandia Librarians…take note!

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