New Books, Fresh Books

Timothy Ward’s Words of Life (IVP) is a beautifully written, clear, calm, reasonable – a very English - treatment of the historical evangelical and classical Christian approach to Scripture. Besides being explicitly Reformed – he builds on Calvin, Turretin, Bavinck and Warfield - its orientation is also noteworthy for stressing the Bible’s own witness to itself, in particular to the closeness of God’s words and God’s action. He then proceeds to place this material in an explicitly theological, Trinitarian framework, and to apply it in the restatement of the traditional doctrinal attributes of scripture as necessary, sufficient and clear. Finally, the doctrinal formulation is brought to bear onto the life and witness of the Christian and the church; doctrine, and then application. Most important of all, perhaps, Timothy Ward puts all this in his own way, not simply mouthing traditional doctrine in traditional ways. And he comes to theological conclusions the proper way, from the scriptural data to scriptural doctrine. To cap it all, he has an eye both to history and to contemporary discussion.

So this is a fresh, clear-headed and reliable treatment of an important topic. Ward was a student of Kevin Vanhoozer’s, and due regard is paid to speech acts.(Ward’s doctoral dissertation on this topic is already available (Word and Supplement: Speech Acts, Biblical Texts, and the Sufficiency of Scripture, (Oxford University Press, 2002)) But speech-acts are servants rather than masters, chiefly put in service to elucidate the one important fact that often God’s deeds are his words, so binding very closely together who God is, what God does, and what God says. Nor does the author claim any great novelty for this insight, as if no one in the church had ever got the point before. Nor does the use of speech-act theory get in the way of good, old-fashioned, doctrinal construction. More could be said here, but on this occasion I forbear.

Instead I draw attention to what I think is its most noteworthy treatment – its consideration of inerrancy. The book does not wobble on the topic, and Ward is explicit in his rebuttal of the well-rehearsed claim that the concept is a late addition to the Reformed understanding of Scripture, ‘an invention of a Western rationalistic Christianity since the Enlightenment’. Nor is inerrancy a piece of a priori reasoning from the doctrine of God, making it impossible that he could ever use an errant writing for his purposes. But Ward does keep inerrancy in its place, or, if you prefer, put it in its place. Inerrancy is not a talisman, a mantra, a shibboleth or a touchstone, an isolated phenomenon that has to be given singular prominence. Rather, as the author says, the inerrancy of Scripture is logically subordinate to and so a consequence of the Bible’s teaching about the authority of God’s words. This is how he puts it.

The claim that the Bible is inerrant is a conclusion that is directly drawn from what Scripture says about God, and about itself in relation to God. Scripture says, as we have seen, that it is breathed out by God, as his own words. In addition, in Scripture God states with great clarity that his character is such that he cannot lie, and that he alone is utterly true and trustworthy. (Titus 1:2, Heb. 6.18) The conclusion that the Bible is inerrant is essentially derived from linking these two related truths closely together.

In my judgment, this is well said.

To have an erratum slip in a book that upholds biblical inerrancy is quite something. I read this book on April Fools’ Day, and thought at first that the inclusion of the slip was a piece of clever marketing. But no, the book is in systematic error – the index is everywhere two pages out. Happily, once spotted, soon corrected.

There is no shortage of biographies of John Calvin. But Herman Selderhuis’s John Calvin, a Pilgrim’s Life, (IVP Academic) is another blast of fresh air. It is not solemn or pietistic hagiography, nor is it a full-dress apologia for the life and theology of Calvin. ‘Calvin is approached as neither friend nor enemy; I just do not categorise him in that sense. I feel nothing for Calvin either way, but I am fascinated by him as a person’. Selderhuis is a notable Calvin scholar, but this is not a work of i-dotting and t-crossing from the Calvin academic guild. Rather it is scholarship with a light touch. Being witty and pointed about a serious subject may suggest satire, but Selderhuis has succeeded in being both skittish and penetrating about a serious man without undermining him, but instead helping the reader to get under Calvin’s skin, as he puts it.

How has he achieved this? Partly through style. The writing style is sharp, witty, knowledgeable, terse, compact. The book never drifts. This is helped by the way in which the chapters themselves are divided into discrete sections each of no more than a couple of pages, which often jump from one topic to another, sometimes interrupting the flow of the narrative of the life as topics seem to have suggested themselves to the author. It has the jumpiness and unexpectedness of live conversation. Each of these sections has a separate short title, inviting the reader to read on - ‘Battle’, ‘Clean-Up’, ‘Miracle’, ‘Promised Land’, ‘Money’, ‘Frustration’. The sections make it possible easily to pick the book up and to put it down, but I did not find that I wanted to put it down very often. It has been brilliantly translated from the Dutch by Albert Grootjes.

Following the death of his own father, Calvin’s pilgrimage was conducted with the help of certain father figures – Alciati, Farel, Bucer – and his life was spent doing what he definitely did not want to do, but was constrained to, and was amazingly gifted for, and (somewhat reluctantly) believed himself called by God to. As such, he had no ‘career plan’, no drive to be at the top of the greasy pole. He did have blind spots, however – in particular, he was unable to realise that not every one else was like himself. He was bad tempered, emotional, sometimes uncontrollable in his grief, yet also insensitive and childish. He was above all things strong willed, a workaholic who neglected his health and so shortened his life, paying scant regard to his own teaching on the place of prudence in providence. Calvin was certainly not the flint-faced Lenin that he is often portrayed as. Face to face, and in his correspondence, he was friendly, but in his other writings he tended to let rip. Ardent in his love of simplicity, directness and order , hating the complications of everything from horoscopes to ceremonies.

The author peppers his judgments with pertinent quotes from all over the Calvin corpus, but chiefly from his letters. Where Selderhuis does tend to be apologetic is over Servetus, and also over Calvin’s place in the politics and rule of Geneva. Calvin and Geneva were bound together in seemingly endless friction from which Calvin was only released towards the end of his life, as French refugees became citizens and took control of the city. Even so, Geneva was no DDR. The politically correct of today cannot in all conscience grumble at the political correctness and zero tolerance that was present in Calvin’s Geneva.

The author ends his book by saying that if he gets to heaven there are certainly things that he would like to talk to Calvin about. By then the reader will think the same. There’ll be quite a queue.

So, two new books, and two fresh books. Not necessarily the same thing.

'What I have written, I have written'

There they crucified him, and with him two others, one on either side, and Jesus between them. Pilate also wrote an inscription and put it on the cross. It read “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews”. Many of the Jews read this inscription, for the place where Jesus was crucified was near the city; and it was written in Aramaic, in Latin, and in Greek. So the chief priests of the Jews said to Pilate, “Do not write, ‘The King of he Jews’, but rather, ‘This man said, I am King of the Jews’”. Pilate answered, ‘What I have written, I have written’.

This remarkable feature of the Crucifixion makes it clear that language, including writing, is at the heart of the Christian faith. Geerhardus Vos once said that without God’s acts the words would be empty and without His words the acts would be blind. Here’s an explicit case of that: a death by crucifixion together with the words that tell us whose was the agony. As both Pilate and the chief priests no doubt thought, it marked the end point of the career of this particular ‘king’.

What was Pilate’s intention in writing the inscription? It is hard to say. Maybe it was intended as an act of mockery, a joke in very bad taste. Maybe Pilate had a political motive, to insult the Jews, to underline Roman superiority. The only king that the Jews could manage to have was a pathetic, dead king. Whatever Pilate's intention, we can be sure that it was hardly intended to offer support to Jesus’ cause. Yet whatever the intention, the inscription was factually accurate, as far as Pilate was concerned, for this was indeed what Jesus claimed to be. (Mark 15.2) What this shows is that (despite what the pundits say) within certain limits it may not matter that we do not know what a writer’s intention was, even if John's intention in recording this incident for us is consistent with his avowed aim for writing his Gospel. (John 21.30)

Pilate’s refusal to modify what he had written is more likely to have been a response born of exasperation than the resolve of a disciple of Jesus to stand up and be counted, don’t you think? For as a matter of fact Pilate is more likely to have agreed with the chief priests that what he had written was what Jesus was willing to call himself rather than something that was objectively true. Yet the result of his refusal was that in putting up the inscription Pilate said more than he knew, like someone else in John’s Gospel.

Do we always have to have an exact grasp of Scripture’s literal sense, the sense intended by the writer, in order to grasp what it means? No, we do not. In this instance, the chief priests proposed some modification to the inscription. They wanted it made clear that Jesus was not the king of the Jews but the ‘king’ of the Jews. The inscription as it stood looked official, an official title, it had an abiding meaning, and thus it was capable of expressing an abiding truth, even a ‘timeless truth’. That was too much for the priests to bear. They wanted to change the force of the inscription, to make an official inscription into a mere expression of opinion.

As language is at the heart of the Christian faith, so is translation. Hardly a word of the Aramaic of Jesus’ teaching has come down to us. His direct teaching is given to us in Greek translation. ‘The King of the Jews’ was written in Aramaic, in Latin and in Greek. Christianity was from the first an international religion, foreshadowed by the Abrahamic covenant, implied in the Great Commission, witnessed to at Pentecost, realised in dramatic fashion by what was inscribed on the Cross itself.

Translations, we are led to believe, are inherently unsatisfactory, for they do not convey every nuance of what is translated. There is a sense in which ‘The King of he Jews’ means something different for an Aramaic-speaker than for a Greek-speaker or a Latin-speaker, because for each of these it may carry separate associations, literary and personal vibes, and different capacities for rhyme and rhythm, than each one carries for the others. Translation is less than perfect, it misses things that are in the original, and maybe it suggests things that are not there as well. It is not easy to move the gospel from one context to another. So, at least, we are told.

But the translated title atop the Cross rather undermines this approach. The Greek of the New Testament, particularly of course the Greek of the Gospels, contains translations of Jesus’ words which, being inspired by the Spirit, are adequate for the task of conveying his teaching, more than adequate. Indeed, since Jesus’ words were inspired, and the translations of his words as we have them in the Gospels are inspired, it is possible to have two inspired teachings, one of which is a translation of the other. And here also, at the Cross, the very epicentre of our faith, there is the report of an inspired (or Spirit-guided) statement, together with two translations of it.

Here at least, at the heart of our faith, the imperfections that accompany even the most faithful translation evidently do not matter. Why is that ? Because it is possible, in translation, despite all its limitations, to convey the meaning of one sentence in another language. That Jesus is the King of the Jews has the same essential meaning in a faithful presentation of it in Aramaic, in Greek and in Hebrew. And in English. Not of course true in just another language, but true also in that other culture that each of these languages express and are part of. That’s an enormous blessing, surely. The meaning of Scripture is Scripture. Scripture has the same meaning in diverse languages, in diverse cultures.

But if it is possible to convey the meaning of the original in a translation, even though there are nuances and so forth of the original that are lost in the translation, what is the meaning that is conveyed? It is the cognitive meaning. We might put it this way. The translation of ‘The king is dead’ into French is ‘Le roi est mort’. How do we know that it is a good translation? Because it passes this test: ‘The roi est mort’ is true only when ‘The king is dead’ is true, and only when ‘The king is dead’ is true is ‘Le roi est mort’ true. They are cognitively equivalent. Applying that test we see that ‘Le roi est mon ami’ is a bad translation of ‘The king is dead’. As the prominence of translation in the internationalising of the faith of Abraham shows – it is equivalence in truth conditions that matters. What is important in the translation of the Gospel is truth, for the Gospel is God’s truth. Where the Gospel is expressed in the same truths, it is the same Gospel.

But how if ‘The King of the Jews’ is a title, or a description, of the one hanging there, can it express a proposition? Maybe, without distorting things, we could form a proposition from it, as presumably Pilate intended. The chief priests certainly thought that it was a proposition, or at least could easily be made into one, one that is equivalent to ‘I am the King of the Jews’, or ‘The one hanging below is the King of the Jews’, for they wanted to neuter the force of the original inscription by enclosing it within the safety of inverted commas, to be understood for a few days as nothing but the personal opinion of a troublesome, failed rabbi. Mercifully, for whatever reason, Pilate pulled rank. What he had written he had written, and what he wrote is true, true forever, in Greek, in Aramaic, in Latin, in English, in every natural language rich enough in nouns, pronouns and verbs to construct its truth-equivalent.

One thing that this shows to us is that the prevalent Post-Conservative obsession with context, part of its anti-Enlightenment animus, is gross exaggeration. Of course there are such things as differences in context, but in the mercy of God they may not matter very much, and they most certainly don’t matter as much as the post-Conservatives reckon. At the last, men and women out of every nation will cry ‘Worthy is the Lamb’.

There are several lessons for us here. But for the present this one will suffice: Is awareness of context important for the understanding and communication of the Christian faith? Yes and no. Of course it matters. ‘To the Jews became I as a Jew’. Does it matter supremely? No, it does not. Here, on the very Cross itself, is a truth expressed by a context-transcending statement, one expressed in different languages. From it we see that truth is translatable. It conveys the same cognitive meaning in these other languages, and these cultures, and these contexts. The knowledge that Jesus is the king of the Jews may become saving knowledge for souls in every nation, and people, and tribe and tongue.

Calvin's Definitions

Note: Definitions do not set the world alight. Yet they are an essential feature of theological enquiry. Sometimes they are subject to a hilarious criticism, that the attempt to ‘capture’ something in a definition is an expression of fallen mankind’s will to power, to domination. This confuses the idea and the thing. To ‘capture’ a definition is not to capture the thing defined. The definition of what a Pit Bull Terrier is does not (alas) lead to the capture of the animal itself. The elimination of all such Terriers (devoutly to be wished, in my view) would not touch the definition. More worrying than this laughable misunderstanding is the anti-essentialist temper of the age expressed in the many current Christian theologians’ reverential attitude to ‘context’, language-games, meaning as use, and the like, as well as the prominence given to anti-realist metaphysics. This short paper on Calvin’s definitions in the Institutes, is offered as a modest contribution to the topic of theological definition. (The page references in what follows are to the Battles translation of the Institutes).


Philosophers are interested in definitions, in the different sorts of definitions and what they do, in what words mean and what that meaning is. So it’s not surprising that a philosopher who is interested in the thought of John Calvin will also be interested in what he has to say about definitions. Not simply what he has to say, but how he thinks of definitions, what sorts of definitions interest him, and what use he makes of them in his writings.

A casual enquiry into this yielded some unexpected results. A word-search of the Battles’ translation of the Institutes provided a surprising number of definitions, surprising because even to a careful reader of that work the idea that definitions play an important structural function, and in some cases are pivotal in Calvin’s argument, is not obvious. Not obvious to me at least. This feeling of surprise is backed up by a failure to find any sustained treatment of Calvin’s attitude to and use of definitions in the literature.

In Chapter Six of his The Unaccommodated Calvin, Richard A Muller cites persuasive evidence to show that the Institutes is a ‘gathering of loci communes and disputationes’. (103) This short paper may be thought of a way in which that claim can be strengthened further. The Institutes is also a gathering of definitions; or rather the loci communes discussed there embrace definitiones , as they should. The definitions are sufficiently numerous and at sufficiently important stages of Calvin’s dogmatics in the Institutes as to identify many, though not all of the loci.

I shall provide a brief survey of Calvin’s definitions in the 1559 Institutes, concentrating on the theologically most significant of them. Then we shall consider two or three of the definitions in more detail, and try from them to understand a little of what Calvin took a definition to be, why for him they are important, and what part they play in theological argument in the Institutes.

Calvin’s interest in establishing definitions of terms has to be seen as a part of his sensitivity to the use of non-biblical terms in theology. For the practice of offering definitions is a case of the use of such terms although occasionally, as we shall see, he finds cases of biblical writers themselves offering definitions. On the one hand he defends the practice of introducing ‘foreign’ terms , in the case of the use of terms such as ‘person’ and ‘nature’ in elucidating the Trinity, and ‘alone’ in ‘justification by faith alone’. On the other hand he deplores the use of certain terms, such as ‘merit’ which while not intrinsically deplorable, have over the years of their use gathered deeply unbiblical connotations. Calvin reveals a third attitude to words which might be summed up in the principle: whenever you can, let people express biblical teaching using those terms that they are most comfortable with.

For these reasons, because Calvin is conservative by temperament, and because he is engaged in Christian theology, he does not coin new terms and define them. His typical practice is to take a term used in the Christian theological tradition – original sin, free will – and to provide his own definition of that term, or occasionally endorse another definition, and to justify this definition in terms of Scriptural teaching. Sometimes he thinks that a biblical writer offers a definition, and of course he uses or at least endorses that. So his practice is not stipulate but descriptive, descriptive definitions drawn from Scripture. He has no interest at all in stipulating his own meaning of a term.

His main aim in establishing a definition is then to use it to control the subsequent discussion. So definitions tend to be at the beginning of topics, and the definition is given without too much difficulty. Occasionally Calvin appears to struggle, but I expect that this appearance of difficulty is a rhetorical or dialectical device. The most obvious case of Calvin struggling is in fact the definition that a student of the Institutes is most likely to remember, his definition of faith. He takes some time to arrive at it, but then the various elements of the definition articulate and control the remaining discussion.

Calvin typically though not always corrects the then-current definitions in medieval scholasticism. Part of his task in establishing a definition – faith, repentance, justification – is to substitute it for its deficient predecessor. Often the contrast here is not to substitute a correct definition for one that is wrong, but to substitute one that is deep for one that Calvin thinks is shallow or superficial or leads to incoherence. This is the case, for example, in his definitions of repentance and of a sacrament, as we shall see.

What follows is largely based on the incidence of the English word ‘definition’ and sometimes ‘define’. I’ve not yet even checked whether or not Battles’ ‘definition’ always and only translates definitio, by ‘definition’. I have not looked at synonyms or near synonyms for ‘definition’, such as ‘nature of’, ‘meaning of’, except where these are alongside the use of ‘definition’. But I include one example of a definition which Calvin does not say is a definiton, but which surely is.

The Survey (page references are to Battles' translation)

Book I

7.3 (77)
11.1 (100)
13.2 A definition of God’s threeness is sought, leading to a discussion of the meaning and admissibility of the term ‘person’ and leading to a threefold definition in 13.6 Calvin rounds off the discussion by saying that he does not object to ‘Tertullian’s definition’.
Note that Calvin’s search for a definition controls the discussion across several pages
15.4 Calvin searches for a ‘full definition’ of ‘made in the image of God’ . He finds this in man’s being ensouled, which then leads him to search for a definition of the Soul and its Faculties in 15.6.
Again, a considerable amount of pivotal discussion is controlled by the search for ‘definition’.


Book II

1.4 p.245 definition of Adam’s sin – pride, but then Calvin seeks a ‘fuller definition’ – disobedience.
1.8 p.245 original sin. (Two occurrences of ‘definition’) On this occasion a quick and succinct definition is offered.
2.4 freewill , A brief survey of the definitions of Origen, Anselm, Augustine of free will, and of their attitudes to it, leading Calvin to a critique of the influence of pagan philosophy on Christian thought, and an over-eagerness to define free will in purely etymological terms. (264) This leads Calvin to approach the anthropological issue via a consideration of the effects of the fall upon the image of God and human nature and finally to offer a ‘complete definition’ of the will as ‘bound after wicked desires that it cannot strive after the right’. (II. 2.12, 271) A definition for which he then proceeds to offer a ‘fuller explanation’. I shall examine this discussion more fully in the next section.
2.22 At the end of his discussion of the way in which the knowledge of God (made known by natural law through conscience in the case of the Gentiles) and the refusal to serve him is the seat of responsibility, and not ability, Calvin remarks ‘This would not be a bad definition of natural law’ (282), a definition in terms of the ability of the conscience to make moral distinctions, rendering people inexcusable.
2.23 Themistius’ comment on the general and the particular. (282)
3.11 Augustine’s definition of operating and co-operating grace , 305
5. 6 Paul’s definition of law as having its purpose and fulfilment in love (I Tim.1.5) but who also teaches that the law has no such effect without the inner inspiration of God. (324)
8.58 RC definition of venial sin (421)
14.5 The Church’s definition of Mediator stands firm. (488)
17.6 The temerity of Lombard’s definition, that Christ acquired merit for himself. (534)


Book III

The most elaborate treatment of a definition in the Institutes concerns faith in III. 2 ‘Faith: Its Definition Set Forth, and Its Properties Explained’
Calvin’s treatment begins with the search for a definition of faith 2.1 (542) A definition of faith will enable us to ‘grasp its nature’. He is concerned here, then, not with a mere reportive definition, one which simply expresses the meaning of ‘faith’ as this word is usually used. But with ‘what faith ought to be like’ (543). Hence his polemic against the Schoolmen who wear down the whole force of faith by their ‘obscure definition’ (2.2. (544)), obscure because of their emphasis on implicit faith and on faith as mere assent.

Calvin then (2.4) begins to build towards a satisfactory definition. Faith is knowledge, but simply to know something of God’s will is not a ‘full definition’ of faith (2.7(550)). There needs to be explicit reference to the mercy of God in Christ. So, emphasising these elements, Calvin offers his own celebrated definition of faith as ‘a firm and certain knowledge of God’s benevolence towards us, founded upon the truth of the freely given promise in Christ, both revealed to our minds and sealed upon our hearts by the Holy Spirit’. (2.7 (551).

Having provided the definition Calvin sees no need to spend further time on the inadequacies of the scholastic definition, (‘their definition’ (2.8 (551)), ‘our task is simply to explain the nature of faith as it is set forth in the Word of God’. So to give a true definition of faith is to say what the nature of faith is’.

This definition becomes pivotal for the remainder of his discussion of the topic, (III.2.14-29), a discussion of each of ‘the individual parts of the definition of faith’ (559). as is seen from the fact that he then expounds each of its separate elements (‘parts’) one by one: knowledge, certainty, various obstacles and struggles, concluding with a discussion of the ‘freely given promise’ (2.29)

Calvin proceeds to rebut the claim of Pighius that faith has to do with God’s truth, and that ‘threats ought not to be excluded from the definition of it’ (576) Calvin does not demur from these points, but emphasises that faith is much more than this, for it focuses upon God’s promise, and on Christ, so that ‘when we define it there is no absurdity in our thus emphasizing its particular effect and, as a distinction, subordinating to the class that special mark which separates believers from unbelievers.’ (2.30 576)) This is a rather obscure and technical way of making the point that the definition of faith ought to include features that distinguish believers from unbelievers.

Finally, he reconciles his definition of faith, which has the promise of God as a necessary condition, with the definition of Hebrews 11.1. which in Calvin’s view is not so much a definition as a description. For the ‘substance’ of faith is the support on which faith rests, and that support is nothing other than the promise of God. The ‘evidence’ of the things not seen is the Word of God. (2.41 (588)

Calvin’s treatment of repentance (3.5) follows a similar pattern. His concern to present the ‘force and nature’ of repentance leads him to a definition: ‘it is the true turning of our life to God, a turning that arises from a pure and earnest fear of him; and it consists in the mortification of our flesh and of the old man, and in the vivification of the Spirit’ (3.5. (597)) This definition which Calvin ‘lays down’ has three heads, or perhaps elements: a turning (5.6), from the fear of God (5.7) consisting in mortification and vivification. (5.8)

Proceeding with a discussion of sanctification, Calvin links repentance and forgiveness. Is every sin pardonable? No there is the unpardonable sin. But what exactly is such a sin? Calvin answers by offering a definition. But first he notes Augustine’s definition as a ‘persistent stubbornness even to death’ (3.22) which he regards as inadequate and offers his own: ‘They sin against the Holy Spirit who, with evil intention, resist God’s truth, although by its brightness they are so touched that they cannot claim ignorance’. (3.22 (617))

Calvin’s treats the Roman doctrine of penance as a corruption of the idea of repentance that he has set out in III.3, His discussion of the Scholastic definition, is particularly illuminating for the understanding it reveals of his grasp of the nature of definitions, and of their importance.

As with faith, he frames his discussion in terms of a contrast between the superficiality and inadequacy of Roman definitions, substituting his own. There are a number of such definitions: ‘to repent is to weep over former sins, and not to commit sins to be wept over’. (622) It is to bewail past evil deeds and not again to commit deeds to be bewailed’. (622) The ‘Scholastic Sophists’ define repentance in terms of weeping over sin and various other expressions of sorrow for sin.

Calvin is scathing. Such expressions, he says, ‘were not spoken with the intent to define repentance’. The Scholastics turn certain statements, certain expressions of penitence and penitential actions, into definitions. (4.1 (622)) and make repentance into ‘a discipline and austerity that serves partly to tame the flesh, partly to chastise and punish faults’. (623).

Having defined penitence in these ways, they then divide it into ‘contrition of heart, confession of mouth, and satisfaction of works’ But this is illogical, ‘no more logical than the definition – even though they wish to appear to have their whole life in framing syllogisms’ (623). For one can meet one of these previously-cited definitions and yet not confess one’s sin. If a person may be truly penitent and yet not confess, how can penitence be understood in terms of a threefold division one of whose elements is confession ? Maybe when they give the three-fold division they are talking not about repentance but about perfect repentance. (624) So there is a dissonance between their definition and the way in which penance is subsequently analysed into three distinct elements ‘Now, for my part, where there is a dispute concerning anything, I am stupid enough to refer everything back to the definition itself, which is the hinge and foundation of the whole debate.’(4.1. 624) We shall also look at this example later on.

‘Definition’ appears in the title of III. 11. However Calvin does not come to refer to the definition of justification until 11.4 (729) What is interesting is that here we learn that Calvin uses other expressions almost synonymously with ‘definition’, which warns us against being exclusively lexical in our approach to Calvin’s thought in this area. In s.2 (726) he sets out to explain what the expressions that man is justified in God’s sight, and that he is justified by faith or works, mean, concluding by ‘we explain justification simply as the acceptance with which God receives us into his favor as righteous men’. Here ‘explain’ is simply to provide an explanation not of justification, but of the meaning of ‘justification’. To do this is equivalent, for Calvin, of giving the meaning of ‘justify’. And, so that we shall not fix exclusively on the term ‘justification’ he uses ‘acceptance’ interchangeably and finally notes Paul’s approval of David’s definition ‘when he declares those men blessed to whom free pardon of sins is given [Ps.32:1-2]. (729)

Later on in the discussion (11.21) he refers back to his own earlier definition (815) and in III.17, in his discussion of James and Paul, argues that the resolution of the apparent contradiction between them rests in remembering James’s definition of dead faith. (815)

At III.19.15 he offers a definition of conscience , which we must obtain ‘from the derivation of the word. As a ‘certain mean between God and man’ which ‘does not allow man to suppress within himself what he knows, but pursues him to the point of convicting him’. (848) This is repeated in IV. 10.3 (1181)

In his exposition of the second petition of the Lord’s Prayer (III.20.42) he refers to his definition of ‘this Kingdom’ as the place where ‘God reigns where men, both by denial of themselves and by contempt of the world and of earthly life, pledge themselves to his righteousness in order to aspire to a heavenly life’. (905)

Finally in Book III a glance at a definition which Calvin does not say is one : ‘Predestination is 'God’s eternal decree, by which he determined with himself what he willed to become of each man.’ (Inst. III.21.5)

Book IV

Calvin offers a definition of the church (2.3 ) and of a true presbyter (5.10) and of the power of the keys : ’men are bound and loosed in no other way than when faith reconciles some to God, while their own unbelief constrains others the more’. (6.4 (1105)) IV. 9.8 (1171) and IV.9.13 (1176) are references to the definitions made by church councils.

IV. 10 16 (1194) Calvin offers a definition of tradition as all laws apart from God’s Word, laws made by men, either to prescribe the manner of worshiping God or to bind consciences by scruples, as if they were making rules out things necessary for salvation.

Calvin offers a definition of a sacrament (IV.14.1 (1277) referred to again IV. 14.3. His further discussion (IV. 19. 1 ((1449) offers an interesting insight into his attitude to definitions. The question under discussion is the attachment of the term ‘sacrament’ to the five other rites besides baptism and the Supper. He refuses to call these sacraments not out of a scruple about a word but for ‘weighty reasons’.

I am quite aware that Christians are lords both of words and of all things, and can therefore apply words to things as they choose, provided a pious sense be kept, even though there may be some incorrect usage in speaking. I grant all this, although it would be better for words to be subject to things rather than things to words. But in the word ‘sacrament’ the case is different. For those who postulate seven sacraments apply to all together the definition that the are visible forms of an invisible grace. (1449)

In other words, in attributing the word ‘sacrament’ to seven things, they ascribe sacramental value to five of them wrongly, in Calvin’s view. (At IV.19.15 there is a passing reference to his earlier definition of a sacrament.) 19.27 is a reference to the Roman definition of a sacrament. (1475). I shall also look at this in more detail shortly.

17.29 In the context of discussion of the Supper, Calvin argues that if transubstantiation is allowed then a ‘new definition of body’ will have to be coined because of the alleged invisibility of the body of Christ in the Mass. (1399)


A Closer Look

Free will

2.4 freewill. In general, Calvin has a more favourable attitude to pagan philosophers when they discuss metaphysical matters than moral philosophy. The issue of free will is one where moral and metaphysical issues come together. As regards the metaphysics, Calvin is something of a stoic, despite his contempt for ‘stoic fatalism’. Melanchthon’s nickname for his friend Calvin was ‘Zeno’, though perhaps he did not call him this to his face. (See Melanchthon’s letter of 1st February 1552 to Joachim Camer) But Calvin regarded the issue of free will in the church as mainly a moral issue, and here he thinks that the early church, with the exception of Augustine, was over-influenced by pagan ideas. Partly it was that these philosophers had no conception of the fall, and so mistook a ruin for a building, as he says on one occasion. Partly, and consequently, that they had exaggerated views of human moral powers, powers to choose the good. This results in an ‘etymological’ definition of free will.

By this Calvin means that the church was content with a definition of free will as the choice between alternatives, with no restriction placed on the nature or the range of choice, or the motivation of that choice, by taking into account man’s fallenness. His ‘complete definition’ of the will as ‘bound after wicked desires that it cannot strive after the right’. (II. 2.12, 271) A definition for which he then proceeds to offer a ‘fuller explanation’. This is of course a far from complete definition; it is only a definition of the fallen human will, crucial in Reformation debates over the bondage and liberation of the will, but partial for all that.
(Compare Calvin’s advice in the Bondage and Liberation of the Will regarding the meaning of ‘free will’: ‘And yet if there is agreement among the learned about its meaning, I will allow them to make use of that word. And I will not even impede its use before the general public, if that which is designated by it is clearly explained. Where this cannot be achieve, I now warn readers to pay attention to the thing itself rather than to its name’. (69))

Faith

The most elaborate treatment of a definition in the Institutes concerns faith in III. 2 ‘ Of Faith. The Definition of it. Its Peculiar Properties., and Its Properties Explained’.

Calvin’s treatment begins with the search for a definition of faith 2.1 (542) A definition of faith will enable us to ‘grasp its nature’. He is concerned here, then, not with a mere reportive definition, one which simply expresses the meaning of ‘faith’ as this word is usually used. But with ‘what faith ought to be like’ (543). So here, in this crucial area, Calvin is more concerned with ‘ideal faith’, faith in its fullest form, rather than faith as it routinely occurs. The obscurity of the school definition of faith is due to the schoolmen’s emphasis upon implicit faith and faith as mere assent. Faith as trust in the explicitly-given promises of God, summed up in Christ, is absent. So step by step Calvin builds to a satisfactory definition (2.4) by delineating a series of necessary conditions – knowledge, the mercy of God in Christ finally giving his celebrated definition in which trust, is surprisingly absent, or at least only implicit. (2.7 (550)). Faith is ‘a firm and certain knowledge of God’s benevolence towards us, founded upon the truth of the freely given promise in Christ, both revealed to our minds and sealed upon our hearts by the Holy Spirit’. (2.7 (551).

But it needs to be remembered that the definition is faith in its ideal form, as is seen by what, in Calvin’s discussion, comes immediately before, and then immediately after, the definition itself. Having given the definition Calvin sees no need to spend further time on the inadequacies of the scholastic definition, (‘their definition’ (2.8 (551)), ‘our task is simply to explain the nature of faith as it is set forth in the Word of God’. So to give a true definition of faith is to say what the nature of faith is.

This definition becomes pivotal for the remainder of his discussion of the topic, (III.2.14-29), a discussion of each of ‘the individual parts of the definition of faith’ (559) as is seen from the fact that he then expounds each of its separate elements (‘parts’) one by one: knowledge, certainty, various obstacles and struggles, concluding with a discussion of the ‘freely given promise’ (2.29)

Calvin goes on to rebut the claim of Pighius that faith has to do with God’s truth, and that ‘threats ought not to be excluded from the definition of it’ (576) Calvin does not demur but emphasises that it focuses upon God’s promise, and on Christ, so that ‘when we define it there is no absurdity in our thus emphasizing its particular effect and, as a distinction, subordinating to the class that special mark which separates believers from unbelievers.’ (2.30 576)) This is a rather obscure and technical way of making the point that the definition of faith ought to include features that distinguish believers from unbelievers.

Finally, he reconciles his definition of faith, which has the promise of God as a necessary condition, with the definition of Hebrews 11.1. which in Calvin’s view is not so much a definition as a description. For the ‘substance’ of faith is the support on which faith rests, and that support is nothing other than the promise of God. The ‘evidence’ of the things not seen is the Word of God. (2.41 (588)

Calvin seems to have attached a particular importance to the definition of faith as it is the only definition that appears (somewhat shortened) in the Catechism of the Church of Geneva - (‘It may be defined – a sure and steadfast knowledge of the paternal good will of God toward us, as he declares in the gospel that for the sake of Christ he will be our Father and Saviour.’ (Tracts 2.33))


Repentance

Calvin’s treatment of repentance (3.5) follows a similar pattern. His concern to present the ‘force and nature’ of repentance leads him to a definition: ‘it is the true turning of our life to God, a turning that arises from a pure and earnest fear of him; and it consists in the mortification of our flesh and of the old man, and in the vivification of the Spirit’ (3.5. (597)) This definition which Calvin ‘lays down’ has three heads, or perhaps elements: a turning (5.6), from the fear of God (5.7) consisting in mortification and vivification. (5.8)

Proceeding with a discussion of sanctification, Calvin links repentance and forgiveness. Is every sin pardonable? No there is the unpardonable sin. But what exactly is such a sin? Calvin answers by offering a definition. But first he notes Augustine’s definition as a ‘persistent stubbornness even to death’ (3.22) which he regards as inadequate and offers his own: ‘They sin against the Holy Spirit who, with evil intention, resist God’s truth, although by its brightness they are so touched that they cannot claim ignorance’. (3.22 (617))

Calvin’s treats the Roman doctrine of penance as a corruption of the idea of repentance that he has set out in III.3, His discussion of the Scholastic definition, is particularly illuminating for the understanding it reveals of his grasp of the nature of definitions, and of their importance.

As with faith, he frames his discussion in terms of a contrast between the superficiality and inadequacy of Roman definitions, substituting his own. There are a number of such definitions: ‘to repent is to weep over former sins, and not to commit sins to be wept over’. (622) It is to bewail past evil deeds and not again to commit deeds to be bewailed’. (622) The ‘Scholastic Sophists’ define repentance in terms of weeping over sin and various other expressions of sorrow for sin.

Calvin is scathing. Such expressions, he says, ‘were not spoken with the intent to define repentance’. The Scholastics turn certain statements, certain expressions of penitence and penitential actions, into definitions. (4.1 (622)) and make repentance into ‘a discipline and austerity that serves partly to tame the flesh, partly to chastise and punish faults’. (623).

Having defined penitence in these ways, they then divide it into ‘contrition of heart, confession of mouth, and satisfaction of works’ But this is illogical, ‘no more logical than the definition – even though they wish to appear to have their whole life in framing syllogisms’ (623) For one can meet one of these previously-cited definitions and et not confess. If a person may be truly penitent and not confession, how can penitence be understood in terms of a threefold divisions one of whose elements is confession ? Maybe when they give the three-fold division they are talking not about repentance but about perfect repentance. (624) So there is a dissonance between their definition and the way in which penance is subsequently analysed into three distinct elements ‘Now, for my part, where there is a dispute concerning anything, I am stupid enough to refer everything back to the definition itself, which is the hinge and foundation of the whole debate.’(4.1. 624)

Sacrament

Calvin offers a definition of a sacrament (IV.14.1 (1277) referred to again IV. 14.3. His further discussion (IV. 19. 1 ((1449) offers an interesting insight into his attitude to definitions. The question under discussion is the attachment of the term ‘sacrament’ to the five other rites besides baptism and the Supper. He refuses to call these sacraments not out of a scruple about a word but for ‘weighty reasons’.


Pivotal themes

More than once in discussing and delivering his definitions Calvin hints at his metaphysical outlook. Definitions are not merely verbal, defining one term or terms by another. They are not terms of convenience, arbitrarily given. It would be hard to develop a case for nominalism from Calvin’s procedure. Although he talks approvingly once of being ‘lords’ of words, this is a remark about Christians, not about the relation between words and reality. The terms we have seen him define are not merely Christian usage, but they are intended to represent divine realities. They are intended as ‘real definitions’, the specification of necessary and sufficient conditions for something’s being, say, original sin.

Original sin is a reality: its character is revealed in Scripture. It is the theologians’ task to represent that revealed reality and one of their tools in this task is definition. The fact that we can define these realities does not mean that we master them, or even that we fully understand them, but it is testimony to the fact that definable realities have a nature. That is, according to Calvin (and of course according to the scholastic tradition) definitions are made possible by natures or essences. There is a nature or essence to original sin; so it is possible to define it. Defining it ‘explains’ it not in the sense that mysteries can be de-mystified, but in the more pedestrian sense that we can provide verbal equivalents (which we understand better, or think that we do) for terms for these mysteries. We understand the definiens better than we understand better than the definiendum. Though, as is clear from his definition of God’s triunity Calvin is concerned that we should not be captivated by mere verbal formulae, for he is easy about the varied terminology used by the Fathers regarding the threeness, provided that the terminology is in each used to provide a ’real’ definition, one coinciding with divine triunity.

There is one final characteristic of definitions that is surprising but which ought not to be. The prominence given to definitions in the Institutes is not merely testimony to the Calvinian love of order. Calvin shows that he thinks we ought to be moved by these definitions, not moved to admiration for the cleverness of the definer, but moved by the divine reality defined. For he notes more than once that an apt definition reveals the ‘force’ of an idea. These realities, once defined, are not meant to be filed away, or argued over – they are not to ‘flit in the brain’ but to move us.

There is one more thing. A survey of these discussions is in fact a run-down of the main themes of the Reformation – original sin, free will, faith, repentance, justification. For Calvin the Reformation was about the recovering of biblical realities, or their rediscovery, and one main way in which this recovering takes place is in the defining of those realities. It is additionally interesting that the emphasis falls upon anthropological themes rather than the doctrine of God, theology in a narrower sense. In fact apart from the definition given in the course of his discussion of the Trinity, Calvin does not, as far as I can discover, ever approach the reality of God by first searching for a definition of God. (And even his Trinitarian discussion is about the meaning of ‘person’, though here again there might be a definition without using the word, as when he states ‘Father and Son and Spirit are one God, yet the Son is not the Father, nor the Spirit the Son, but that they are differentiated by a peculiar quality’ (Inst. I.13.5) No doubt this disinclination to define ‘God’ is fully consistent with Calvin’s restrained approach to the being of God, testimony to the importance for him of the contrast he draws throughout the Institutes and elsewhere between God ‘as he is in himself’ and God ‘as he is towards us’. He repeatedly disdains the search for what God is as against what he is to us.