John Bower has joined historian Chad Van Dixhoorn in launching three new series of books by the Westminster Assembly, and one series of new and classic studies on the Assembly, all being published by Reformation Heritage Books. It is hoped that both texts and studies will stimulate further research in the Assembly and the religious dimension of English civil war politics. Certainly future publications on British post-Reformation theology and Puritanism will be enriched by these publications, briefly described here.

Principal Documents of the Westminster Assembly. This series will produce the six chief works authored by the Assembly for covenanted uniformity of religion in England: the Confession of Faith, Larger Catechism, Shorter Catechism, Directory for Public Worship, Directory for Church Government, and The Psalter. Each volume will contain a historical introduction, a critical text, and multi-column comparisons of original manuscripts and early editions. The inaugural volume, The Larger Catechism, has been prepared by John Bower and scheduled for a launch in March 2010.

Writings of the Westminster Divines. The aim of this series is to provide scholarly editions of texts by Westminster Assembly members and commissioners. Volumes will include previously unpublished manuscripts as well as republications of rare editions. Carefully determined editorial standards will be used to ensure an authoritative product that is accessible to modern readers, while remaining reliable for students and scholars.

Westminster Assembly Facsimiles. With this new series, Reformation Heritage Books and the Westminster Assembly Project are providing electronic and print access to publications by Assembly members in their original form. Free PDF downloads will be made available through the Westminster Assembly Project website. The same text can be purchased for your collection in paperback and hard cover from Reformation Heritage Books.

Studies of the Westminster Assembly. Complementing the primary source material in the other series, the Assembly studies will provide access to classic studies that have not been reprinted and to new studies, providing some of the best existing research on the Assembly and its members.

For more information visit the Westminster Assembly Project. Be sure to check for more information on and about this project at our RHB website and blog.

John Knox’s (ca. 1505–1572) Liturgy of 1556, reflecting the practice of the congregation of English exiles in Geneva, includes a rubric, ‘The Lord’s Supper is commonly administered once a month, or so oft as the congregation shall think expedient.’ However, the First Book of Discipline of 1560, while recognising the sufficiency of the order of Geneva (II.2), added more specific instruction: ‘Four times a year we think sufficient for the administration of the Lord’s table, which we desire to be distincted [distinguished/specified], that the superstitions of times may be avoided as far as may be…’ (XI.5). Anxious to avoid the observance of the Supper at Easter, which many thought gave special virtue to it, the Book of Discipline specified the first Sunday in each of March, June, September and December. [This is what is common in most Australian Presbyterian churches to this day.] It added, ‘We do not deny but any several kirk for reasonable causes may change the time, and may minister more often, but we study to repress superstition.’

In 1562 the Scottish General Assembly ordained that the Communion be celebrated four times in the year within towns, and twice in the year in the country. Even so, with the shortage of ministers, frequency was often far less, even once a year, sometimes spread over several Sundays if the population was large.

The usage of the Independents of the 1640s of a weekly or monthly communion was one which did not impact in Scotland, and frequency in Scotland was commonly annual for a considerable period. [There was also the factor of cost. Wine, a good mouthful per person, was expensive for a poor country like Scotland given the congregation might number many hundreds.]

Practice in the Church of England could accommodate a greater frequency. The Prayer Book (1559) and Canons (1603) were for at least three times a year, but in practice few communicated more than once, and then at Easter. William Pemble (1591–1623) wrote: “…Satan hath done much by his malicious policy to corrupt men’s hearts in the observance of it: when the Sacrament was administered often he brought it into contempt by the commonness of it; now that it is administered seldom through ignorance, it is abused and neglected as unnecessary.”

Pemble lamented that if there had been no civil law requiring attendance at least once a year, the Lord’s Table would be left without guests. Communion practice declined with the ejection of non-conformists to the new order of 1662, as they were often the more committed people, and monthly communion was found among them.

In the Directory of the Westminster Assembly the term “frequently” has enough elasticity to allow for the quarterly or half yearly practice of the Scots, and the more frequent practice in (some) English Puritan circles. George Gillespie (1613–1648) records: “But the Committee went through in order; and first, objection was made against that first section, which leaves to the discretion of the pastor and elders of each congregation how oft the communion is to be celebrated. It was desired that they might be tied, at least, to four times a-year, since the Apostle and Christ speak of often celebration. I said, There is no ground from Scripture or otherwise to determine four times a year, for this should resolve in the arbitrement of men. If congregations abuse this liberty, the presbytery at visitation of churches can help it. Mr Newcomen declared that all the new gathered churches have the sacrament every Lord’s day in the afternoon. To avoid this debate of the time, it was added in the beginning, The Lord’s Supper is to be administered frequently.” [Notes of Proceedings of the Assembly, 102.]

In the recent Volume 3 of Ligon Duncan (ed.), Westminster Confession into the 21st Century (2009), Wayne Spear has two interesting articles that suggest the general mind of the Assembly was not quite along Calvin’s line where Cavin seems to suggest a Real Presence of a nature that means we get something extra that we do not have in the ordinary preaching. A more general Reformed view would be that we receive in the Supper what we receive in the ordinary ministry but in a different way that stoops to our weak capacity.

Interpreting Canticles along the lines of a believer’s communion with Christ is not, of course, peculiar to the Early Church or to the Puritans.  In fact, the Reformation theologian, Theodore Beza wrote a fine exposition of the Song of Solomon, which contains not only many important Christological insights, but glimpses into the nature of our communion with the Lord.

In the seventeenth century Canticles was often translated and sung to various Psalter tunes. One anonymous work is titled: The Song of Solomon, called The song of songs. Translated into English meeter, and fitted to be sung with any of the common tunes of the psalms. Besides that, we have Henry Ainsworth’s Solomon’s Song of songs In English metre, which could also be sung in church. Wouldn’t that be interesting? When was the last time you were in a church that sang the Song of Songs?

Beza’s work on Canticles is titled: Master Bezaes Sermons upon the first three chapters of the Canticle of Canticles (wherein are discussed the chiefest points of religion). This really is a fine work on Christology.  Beza argues that the Song is to be taken in a Spiritual sense and not to be taken as a marriage song between Solomon and Pharaoh’s daughter, as some have insisted (1 Kings 11 condemns this marriage). Rather, this is a most excellent psalm touching on the spiritual bond between Christ and his Church (Genesis 2 & Eph. 5).  For Beza, the Song speaks of betrothing (engagement) and marriage that refers to Christ in his infirmities (betrothal) and Christ in his glory (marriage).

Incidentally, one of the best sermon series I have ever heard was on the Song of Songs; the series was preached by a South African preacher who understood it in much the same way as Beza, James Durham, John Owen, Samuel Petto, Thomas Brightman, John Cotton, Edward Leigh, Richard Sibbes, Matthew Henry and Johannes Cocceius (to name a few).

For your information, the Westminster Assembly condemned those who understood the Song of Songs as “a hot carnal pamphlet formed by some loose Apollo or Cupid”.  Moreover, John Wesley found the literal reading repulsive.  And, after reading Longman’s commentary on the Song of Songs, I felt like it was a complete waste of time.  Indeed, some of his own interpretations seemed to me to be far more “allegorical” than the stuff I’ve read from Beza and the Puritans!

If Canticles does describe the communion that a believer ought to have with his Savior, then I suspect that not a few of us will be exposed for having such a dry and boring relationship with the one who is “chief among ten thousand!”

“Assertion of Liberty of Conscience by the Independents in the Westminster Assembly of Divines, 1644.”

Painted by John Rogers Herbert, RA, ca. 1844.

A question that has received some treatment in the secondary literature of late centers on whether the WCF is a supralapsarian or infralapsarian document.  Despite the recent work of Guy Richard, I remain persuaded that the Confession is non-committal, and therefore allows a spectrum of opinions.

There are many varieties of infra- and supralapsarianism; thus, it would be hard to pin the WCF down as either infra or supra.  This is an exceedingly complex debate.  Consider, for example, the position of Goodwin; and note that even in interpreting Goodwin two very good scholars (Carl Trueman and Michael Horton) come to different conclusions on his position.

The question over the order of decrees bears an interesting relation to Goodwin’s doctrine of the pactum salutis.  Besides Goodwin’s own natural prolixity and detail, his discussion of infralapsarianism and supralapsarianism borders on incomprehensibility.  Consequently, Horton and Trueman come to what appears to be different conclusions on Goodwin’s position on the order of God’s decrees.  Horton concludes that Goodwin ‘is an infralapsarian Calvinist’ and Trueman contrasts the infralapsarian Owen with the ‘more vigorously supralapsarian theology of … Goodwin.’[1]

Besides bringing into context the order of decrees in relation the pactum salutis, this post will show that the usual taxonomies, that is, the demarcation between an infralapsarian order and a supralapsarian order, are not without problems, especially in the case of Goodwin.  There is truth in what both Horton and Trueman say, but neither satisfies the full picture.

Ends and Means

Goodwin takes as ‘generally agreed upon’ the distinction between the ends and the means.  He argues for the position that God viewed man considered as unfallen in his election of him to the end, and fallen in his decrees to the means.[2] However, Goodwin recognizes that what is meant by the end and the means needs explication.  The end is either God’s glory, what Goodwin calls the ‘Supreme End of all’, or the ‘Ultimate End’, which refers to the glory God designed to bring the elect into.[3] The latter end – the ‘Ultimate End’ – has in view the perfection of Christ’s elect; this is what Goodwin has in mind when he affirms that the ‘Decree to this End was not after, or upon the consideration of the Fall.’[4] However, the means to the ‘Ultimate End’ consider man as fallen.  Just as the ends are distinguished so too are the means.  Goodwin identifies the position of the pure Supralapsarians: ‘The pure Superlapsarian he takes into the Means to this End, the Creation, and the Permission of the Fall, and calls them Means to bring about that Intention or Decree to that ultimate End or Glory specified.’[5] However, Goodwin argues that means refer to what Christ, as redeemer of God’s elect, performed for his people, such as calling, faith, and repentance.  These soteric benefits are ‘Preparations unto Glory’ (Rom. 9:23; Eph. 2:10).[6] These means which prepare God’s elect for glory ‘presuppose a Fall.’[7]

Adam, in his pre-Fall estate, possessed a natural, inherent holiness.  This holiness was not a means that prepared him for election glory because it lacked a Christological base.  Moreover, Adam’s sin was not a means, either, for the possession of glory, but rather ‘a meer … passage through which Election wrought itself into a new Enlargement … and Magnifying of the Grace … towards the Elect … considered as Sinners.’[8] Thus, fallen sinners receive redemptive grace in order to bring about the ultimate end, namely, their glorification.  However, there is a former grace whereby the elect are considered as unfallen.  This grace was a ‘meer Super-creation and Supernatural Grace through Christ, as a Mediator of Union.’[9] Goodwin is advancing the argument that the Creation and the Fall are acts of God’s providence, and not direct means to the ‘Ultimate End’.  Means, therefore, have reference to Christ’s redemptive work; they have an immediate influence in bringing the elect to glory.  Thus, Goodwin argues that in the decree to the end, God considered man as unfallen.  He cites the German Reformed orthodox theologian, Amandus Polanus:

God in his Decree of Election, did behold (or look upon) his Elect, as the End he predestinated them unto, so as men absolutely in common, without all consideration of Qualities in them.  But if we consider the Means leading to the End, so he looked upon men, not as in their upright Condition (afore the Fall) but as they would be corrupt, of and in themselves, by the Fall, and faln headlong by their own default into Eternal Death.[10]

The issue, notes Goodwin, is not whether election has reference to the means unto the end and vice versa.  Rather, the controversy is whether God’s decree unto both the means and end was pitched ‘either wholly upon Man considered in the Mass of Creability afore the Fall, or wholly upon the Mass of Mankind considered and viewed first as fallen into sin.’[11] Upon Goodwin’s reading of various authors, he recognizes that many ‘do judge it incompatible that both should stand.’[12] Regarding the compatibility of both views, Goodwin argues that both ‘Conditions were at once viewed by God, so that One was neither first nor second to the Other in time.’[13] In what appears to be a position that cannot be simply designated as supralapsarianism or infralapsarianism, Goodwin writes:

God having all afore him in his immense Understanding, had in his purpose of Election to the End, a respect unto Man considered as unfaln, but in that to these Means unto Man considered as faln, and decreed both, and all in one and the same determination of his Divine Will.

That there have been some eminent Divines that have gone about to reconcile those different Opinions, Whether Men faln or unfaln were the Object of Predestination, may be well known among them that are versed in this Controversie.[14]

Both the end and the means were in God’s mind at once; ‘neither had a Priority of a Posteriority.’[15] In the divine mind and will, however, Goodwin argues that the decree to the end, where man is considered as unfallen, is the initial starting point (terminus a quo).

Goodwin refers to the German Reformed scholastic, Bartholomäus Keckermann, who argues similarly that the decree to elect falls under a twofold consideration.  First, regarding the end (i.e. eternal life), ‘the Fall was not necessary, because the Fall was not a Means thereof, but rather an Impediment.’[16] Second, the decree to elect may also be understood with respect to man fallen, which God foresaw, as the means.  Election, with a view to redemption, ‘necessarily includes a respect and consideration of the Fall.’[17] A crucial distinction between election and predestination is made by Goodwin.  Election has reference to the end.  Thus, in election God decrees to give men eternal life without consideration of the Fall.  However, predestination falls under God’s decree of man considered in sin.  Predestination, then, involves the means to the end.  Therefore, the supra- infra- debates cannot only have predestination in view, and whether man is considered as fallen or unfallen.  To do that misses Goodwin’s nuance because election and predestination are not strictly synonymous in his schema.

There’s a lot more to say, but the above shows that the teaching of the Confession cannot tip the scales decisively in favor of either position.  Sometimes Goodwin sounds infralapsarian (hence, Horton); and sometimes he sounds supralapsarian (hence, Trueman); and sometimes he sounds both (hence, Jones ;) )

[2] Works, II, Of Election, 79.

[3] Works, II, Of Election, 79.

[4] Works, II, Of Election, 79.

[5] Works, II, Of Election, 80.  The choice of ’super’ rather than ’supra’ most likely reflects an editorial mistake.

[6] Works, II, Of Election, 80.

[7] Works, II, Of Election, 80.

[8] Works, II, Of Election, 80.

[9] Works, II, Of Election, 80.

[10] Works, II, Of Election, 80-81.  Goodwin quotes Polanus’ most significant work, Syntagma theologiae Christianae (Hanover, 1609), 249.  See also A treatise of Amandus Polanus, concerning Gods eternall predestination Wherein both this excellent doctrine is briefly and syncerely deliuered, and many hard places of Scripture are opened and maintained against the corrupt expositions of Bellarmine and other adversaries. Translated by Roger Gostwyke (Cambridge, 1599).

[11] Works, II, Of Election, 81.

[12] Works, II, Of Election, 81.

[13] Works, II, Of Election, 81.

[14] Works, II, Of Election, 81.

[15] Works, II, Of Election, 82.

[16] Works, II, Of Election, 81.

[17] Works, II, Of Election, 81.

This may surprise some, but it needs to be said that for the most part Calvin’s theology was not original.  At least, he did not wish to view himself that way.  On some doctrines he did make unique contributions, namely, the Son’s aseity and Christ’s “descent” into Hell. Interestingly, both of these contributions produced a firestorm of debate among his successors in the 16^th and 17^th centuries, particularly at the Westminster Assembly.

The Protestant scholastic, Johannes Maccovius, used more careful scholastic language to speak about the Son as autotheos than Calvin.  Not only, then, did Roman Catholics take serious issue with Calvin on the Son’s aseity, but even Reformed theologians.  Of course, Maccovius preserved Calvin’s teaching, but he used language that would overcome the objections of those who denied Calvin’s position.

The “Calvin versus the Calvinists” debate has received a lot of attention in recent historiography.  Several scholars have recently argued that one of the problems concerning the “Calvin against the Calvinists” thesis was the error of making Calvin the norm for reading the later Reformed tradition.  This methodology had disastrous consequences for the conclusions of scholars like Alan Clifford and R.T. Kendall.

We might even argue that the response to Clifford and Kendall was wrong-headed.  The answer was not to posit a “Calvin for the Calvinists”.  In fact, not even a “Calvin for and against the Calvinists”.  The truth is that scholarship has given Calvin a prominence that almost reduces men like Vermigli to the status of Calvin’s inferior.  That was just not the case.

In connection with this, the Dutch theologian, Gisbertus Voetius, disliked the term “Calvinist”.  He preferred the term “Reformed Catholic.”  The same could be said for William Perkins.  From what I am told, Jonathan Edwards only used the term grudgingly.

An interesting way of rectifying the sorts of problems that I’ve highlighted would be to discuss the issue of how variegated Reformed orthodoxy was in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.  What their differences were remains as important as what their commonalities were.

Besides jettisoning the term “Calvinism”, I believe we should do-away with notion of making the “five points” synonymous with Calvinism or Reformed theology.  As Richard Muller has argued: “How Many Points?”

Related to this, many think one can only be a Calvinist if they hold to the “five points of Calvinism”.  However, Reformed theology was more complex than the “five points” suggest.  As several scholars have noted, the Hypothetical Universalists – e.g. the brilliant, John Preston – represented a trajectory within Reformed orthodoxy.  The real question about the atonement has to do with its nature.  As you know, the Arminians ended up changing the nature of the atonement so that it was consistent with their views of its extent.  Substitution was jettisoned in favor of versions of the Grotian theory (or versions of what we call the governmental theory).

Today we simply make it a question of “limited atonement” versus “unlimited atonement”.  This is a stupid (and annoying) way of formulating the debate.  First, what was the precise nature of the atonement? How does the atonement relate to God’s decree or the pactum salutis.  What about the inseparable relation of the Spirit to the death of Christ?

Finally, as an example of theological development and terminological change, we might look at the doctrine of regeneration.  Calvin had a broader understanding of the term than later Reformed theologians.  The narrowing of the term took place in reaction to the claims of Arminius and his followers; hence, we see in the Canons of Dordt a particular emphasis on the “one-time” monergistic work of the Spirit in order to combat the Arminians who were happy with much of Calvin’s language, but not happy with the irresistibility of the Spirit which had been a hallmark of Reformed orthodoxy.

Calvin certainly understood the idea to signify more than an aspect of the ordo salutis.  For him, it incorporated many aspects of the whole Christian life (Institutes, III.3.9).  Hodge remarked that “Calvin gives the term its widest scope” (Systematic Theology, 3.3).  That is not to say, of course, that Calvin denies the doctrine as it has been typically understood, that is, as an instantaneous “bringing to life from the dead”.  For example, Calvin writes:  “[The Spirit] regenerates us and makes us to be new creatures” (Institutes, II.2.27).  But he was not content with such a narrow view of the doctrine.  Regeneration is akin to sanctification insofar as “it is a renewal of the divine image in us” (Ibid, III.17.5).  Importantly, though he understands regeneration to encompass sanctification, “God only regenerates the elect with incorruptible seed forever” (Ibid, II.13.2).

There is also a good deal of evidence that the early English Puritans (I’m using this term very loosely) had a very elastic view of regeneration.  Perkins, for example, understood John 3:5 to incorporate sanctification (Foundation of Christian Religion, 278).

The narrowing of the term was a result of the theological controversies that led up to the Synod of Dordt in the early seventeenth century.  The Arminians used Reformed language in describing their views, but they denied explicitly the irresistibility of the Spirit’s work; rather, it was “a gentle advising”.  They were happy with Calvin’s language regarding regeneration as it pertained to the Christian life, but they were not happy with the Reformed view of “irresistibility”.

Maccovius was responsible for restricting the term regeneration, which had hitherto been more elastic in meaning, in order to uphold a monergistic view of the Spirit’s working (see Kuyper, The Work of the Holy Spirit, 293).  From this point on, the Reformed doctrine of regeneration was, in a sense, distinguished from sanctification while at the same time it was understood that one necessarily led to the other.

Goodwin recognizes the distinction between federal and real holiness. He thinks that the holiness spoken of here in 1 Cor. 7:14 ‘is such a holyness as if they dy they should be saved.’ This reflects the view of Dort.  The comments by Lightfoot miss a few lines in Goodwin’s contention, but Goodwin then remarks: ‘Whether a holyness of election or regeneration I know not, but I thinke it is they have the Holy Ghost.’  This can be read in a number of ways, but certainly Goodwin believes in presumptive regeneration, as did many (most?) of the Reformed orthodox.

After responding to Lazarus Seaman’s argument that this destroys the ground for baptizing infants, Goodwin argues that he does not ‘affirme that they are actually saved, but we are to judge them soe.’

Stephen Marshall responds that it is a great mistake to say that the holiness in 1 Cor 7:14 will save them if they should die in infancy. While a judgment of charity is reasonable, that is not the ground to admit them to the sacrament according to Marshall. Moreover, he argues that we are not to judge all infants as saved; rather, ‘in the generall’, we are to believe that ‘the Infants of believing parents are federally holy.’

Rutherford joins the debate and makes clear the distinction between real and federal holiness; they are not the same. Rutherford then goes on to say, ‘The Lord hath election and reprobation amongst Infants noe lesse than those of age, as Augustine of Jacob and Esau.’

Goodwin responds:

Ther is a mere mistake to the thing as I state it. I doe not take away election and reprobation. I believe many infants that are baptized and batptized warrantable. But the question is not of the reality in the events, but what I am to judge of them. If you take it of all that they are holy and saved, my judgment knowes the contrary, but when you come to perticulars, I judge soe of this child and that child. It is an indefinite proposition, ‘I am thy God and the God of thy seed,’ not a universall proposition. That which you call federall holyness and that which I call reall, doe both coincidere in this.

Marshall responds by saying that we are not to judge whether they possess a real holiness, but to believe that they are holy with the holiness spoken of; that is, a federal holiness.

Goodwin responds: To me the holyness in 1 Cor 7:14 is the same with that “I will be thy God and the God of thy seed.” If you make it any other holyness, then baptisme is a seale of some other holyness than the holyness of salvation.”

Further, he argues that our judgment is not an infallible judgment, but it is a judgment that answers the promise.

Richard Vines argues that the holiness in v. 14 must be in every covenant child because the text says so. If it is real holiness, then ‘ther must be a traducing of holyness from the parents, and soe they shall be borne regenerate and really holy.’

All agree, however, that federal holiness is the ground of baptism. But Gillespie seems to ask whether there be any distinction between federal and real holiness. Hoyle responds quoting Psalm 50 as proof of the distinction.

Goodwin, apparently feeling the heat, makes it clear that the holiness of children is not by way of traduction, ‘but by way of designation’. For, ‘if the children are by a warrant from the apostle accounted holy soe as to be brought into the bosome of the church, then the unbeliever must needs be sanctifyed to the believers bed. Holyness and uncleannesse in the OT refers to the judgment that was passed upon them, and so it is a universall proposition.’

Calamy thinks that there is something very dangerous in what Goodwin is suggesting. Goodwin thinks the promises should mean something so as not to be stripped of their nature (i.e. promises).

All from Lightfoot’s journals in Vol. 2, ‘Reforming the Reformation’, 205-208, by Chad van Dixhoorn.