In the minds of those who coined it, the phrase semper reformanda emblematized the conviction that the church must continually reexamine itself in light of Scripture in order to maintain (and where necessary, recover) its purity of belief and practice. The Reformers themselves, of course, were mindful of the fact that they, like popes and councils, could err. Indeed they (like popes and councils) often contradicted one another at points and openly welcomed correction, so long as it came plainly reasoned from Scripture. They recognized that their newfound biblical re-readings were an ongoing work in-progress, and that further progress toward truth could only come via close and repeated inductive examination of Scripture. They called their followers to be “Bereans” with them (Acts 17:11). This humble approach was beautifully captured on April 18, 1521 at the Diet of Worms, where Luther’s corpus—indeed his very life—was on the line.
Luther: “When Christ stood before Annas, he said, ‘Produce witnesses.’ If our Lord, who could not err, made this demand, why may not a worm like me ask to be convicted of error from the prophets and the Gospels? If I am shown my error, I will be the first to throw my books into the fire. . . .”
Johann Eck: “Martin, . . . . Your plea to be heard from Scripture is the one always made by heretics. You do nothing but renew the errors of Wyclif and Hus. How will the Jews, how will the Turks, exult to hear Christians discussing whether they have been wrong all these years! Martin, how can you assume that you are the only one to understand the sense of Scripture? Would you put your judgment above that of so many famous men and claim that you know more than they all? You have no right to call into question the most holy orthodox faith, instituted by Christ the perfect lawgiver, proclaimed throughout the world by the apostles, sealed by the red blood of the martyrs, confirmed by the sacred councils, defined by the Church in which all our fathers believed until death and gave to us as an inheritance, and which now we are forbidden by the pope and the emperor to discuss lest there be no end of debate. I ask you, Martin—answer candidly and without horns—do you or do you not repudiate your books and the errors which they contain?”
Luther: “Since then Your Majesty and your lordships desire a simple reply, I will answer without horns and without teeth. Unless I am convicted by Scripture and plain reason—I do not accept the authority of popes and councils, for they have contradicted each other—my conscience is captive to the Word of God. I cannot and will not recant, for to go against conscience is neither right nor safe. Here I stand, I can do no other. God help me! Amen.”1
The rest, as they say, is Geschichte.
Of course, Eck’s simplistic appeal to authority was ultimately self-defeating, for his heavy-handed refusal of Luther’s request for biblical dialogue would actually leave the impression that Luther’s theology was unassailable. (I, for one, would have been happy to use Scripture and plain reason to correct some of Luther’s misunderstandings—along with Rome’s for that matter). But the point is this: Luther, unlike Rome, was open to correction. Indeed, Luther himself would correct some of his own misunderstandings in time, as anyone who has diachronically analyzed his works well knows. And if he had lived longer, we may be sure he would have continued refining his theology to bring it into conformity with Scripture: Luther embodied semper reformanda.
But a remarkable thing, time is. When in plentiful supply, not only is it (according to the imaginings of Darwinian theorists) the powerful ingredient that can produce irreducibly complex living organisms; it can also deify theologians (a fascinating phenomenon paralleled only by the Imperial cults and Mormon eschatology)—calcifying and immortalizing their teachings.
Indeed, little did Luther, Calvin and the other Reformers know that the Scriptures they faced death to exhume from tradition would one day become re-inhumed under traditions of their own making—that their theology would become an incorrigible tradition in its own right, impervious to biblical correction or refinement. In hermeneutical and exegetical practice “Reformed” folk today have regressed to the security, comfort, complacency, naïveté, false humility, ignorance and laze of the Dark Ages—blindly following their own confessions and catechisms, now ironically immune to further biblical reform, searching the Scriptures only to contrive new ways to defend the doctrines spoon-fed them by the “great Reformers.” To them it is unimaginable that their sixteenth-century heroes could have been substantially wrong on anything (save, perhaps, on blatant snafus such as the pope being Antichrist). To be sure, if today’s Reformed scholars and churchgoers (who take pride in tradition-acquiescence rather than in the hard work of reading Scripture themselves in any serious, self-critical way) had lived in Luther’s and Calvin’s day, there may be little doubt they would ironically have been on the side of Rome—condemning the Reformers for their innovative departures from the “tried and true traditions of the church.” It is only due to the serendipitous lapse of time the Reformers’ interpretations are today hailed as “tried and true traditions of the church” in their own right—now rivaling medieval Rome and even the legendary piper of Hamelin in the power to enchant their inbred gild.
Indeed, little did Luther, Calvin and the other Reformers know that the Scriptures they faced death to exhume from tradition would one day become re-inhumed under traditions of their own making—that their theology would become an incorrigible tradition in its own right, impervious to biblical correction or refinement. In hermeneutical and exegetical practice “Reformed” folk today have regressed to the security, comfort, complacency, naïveté, false humility, ignorance and laze of the Dark Ages—blindly following their own confessions and catechisms, now ironically immune to further biblical reform, searching the Scriptures only to contrive new ways to defend the doctrines spoon-fed them by the “great Reformers.” To them it is unimaginable that their sixteenth-century heroes could have been substantially wrong on anything (save, perhaps, on blatant snafus such as the pope being Antichrist). To be sure, if today’s Reformed scholars and churchgoers (who take pride in tradition-acquiescence rather than in the hard work of reading Scripture themselves in any serious, self-critical way) had lived in Luther’s and Calvin’s day, there may be little doubt they would ironically have been on the side of Rome—condemning the Reformers for their innovative departures from the “tried and true traditions of the church.” It is only due to the serendipitous lapse of time the Reformers’ interpretations are today hailed as “tried and true traditions of the church” in their own right—now rivaling medieval Rome and even the legendary piper of Hamelin in the power to enchant their inbred gild.
I speak as one who himself journeyed into the Reformed camp in college, led not by Luther, Calvin, or the Westminster Divines, but by Scripture. (Sadly enough, I at the time knew very little of Luther or Calvin—save the notorious -isms bearing their names—and nothing of the “Standards”; the church of my youth cared very little for church history.) There in Bible college I came face-to-face with the reality that the history of doctrine was anything but monolithic, calling the accuracy of my own theological upbringing into serious question. With so many competing interpretations, how could I know what was true? Providentially I managed to take courses in hermeneutics and biblical languages prior to any in dogmatic/systematic theology, and this sufficiently averted my epistemological disillusionment and despair. Thus began my personal pilgrimage back to Scripture, and through Scripture, to the eye-opening and humbling fact of God’s sovereign, self-glorifying grace—and naturally to a new church denomination.
Yet today, twelve years and two biblical-theological graduate degrees later, I have come to despair, not of the capability of adequately discovering truth, but of the church’s willingness to undertake what is necessary to do so—not least the church’s most Protestant, “Reformed” wing (that sector which has the least excuse for it). For although my thoroughgoing study of Scripture has led me to sojourn for the last decade in Presbyterianism (and the “Arminian curtain” behind which I live in northern Indiana leaves me few alternatives), that selfsame study of Scripture has led me to reject numerous tenets of Presbyterian dogma. This would be okay, were the principle of semper reformanda still the vogue, and further dialogue and progress to be made toward truth. As it is, however, a stalemate has emerged in every sense of the word, aptly betraying the stale theology in Presbyterian and “Reformed” circles.
Yet today, twelve years and two biblical-theological graduate degrees later, I have come to despair, not of the capability of adequately discovering truth, but of the church’s willingness to undertake what is necessary to do so—not least the church’s most Protestant, “Reformed” wing (that sector which has the least excuse for it). For although my thoroughgoing study of Scripture has led me to sojourn for the last decade in Presbyterianism (and the “Arminian curtain” behind which I live in northern Indiana leaves me few alternatives), that selfsame study of Scripture has led me to reject numerous tenets of Presbyterian dogma. This would be okay, were the principle of semper reformanda still the vogue, and further dialogue and progress to be made toward truth. As it is, however, a stalemate has emerged in every sense of the word, aptly betraying the stale theology in Presbyterian and “Reformed” circles.
Perhaps an analogy will help to demonstrate why this is not to be desired: the contributions of the Reformers, e.g. Calvin, to theology may be likened to that of the ancient Greeks, e.g. Ptolemy, to cosmology.
Ptolemy’s Almagest—the cosmological equivalent to Calvin’s Institutes—accurately discerned that the earth was spherical—a truly significant recognition for the second century—but he still held (perfectly naturally, granted his vantage) a geocentric understanding of all else. There was much more to be ‘unearthed’ (pardon the pun), and had cosmology never moved beyond Ptolemaic reforms, we might still believe the sun to orbit around a non-rotating, static earth. Practically speaking this may not have made a huge difference (we would still have sufficient knowledge to enable, e.g., circumnavigation of the globe), but we would remain at a loss for further space exploration and explanation. Fortunately semper reformanda remained a byword for cosmologists (despite resistance from traditionalists in every era), and today heliocentrism is household cosmology.
It is in this regard that the Protestant Reformation is like the Ptolemaic Revolution. Just as in the case of Ptolemy, reform only began with Luther, Calvin, the Westminster Divines, et al. The Divines were not divine, nor are their “Standards” any standard whatsoever. Yes, like Ptolemy, they were right on a good many things, but they were wrong on a good many things as well, and only by studying Scripture as they themeselves did can one come to know which is which.
But it is this that modern “Reformed” folk cannot grasp. They would rather rely on the findings of their forebears than do what their forebears did or further their work. They see no need to investigate further. They would rather study the “Almagest” of their confessions than the “cosmos” of the Scriptures. They pride themselves in plumbing the depths of historical theology, whilst doing little to engage afresh in biblical theology. They read and write commentaries on Westminster and debate the meaning of Luther and Calvin, all while failing to investigate seriously the meaning of the Apostle Paul. And this effectively renders them one step removed from the Source of true reform. (To be sure, even if the Reformers did bequeath the best possible human representation of what Scripture actually taught, would that make them an object of study preferable to Scripture itself? Surely we’ve all played the “telephone” game in some form. Such a metaphor for cumulative error is so plain it needs no explanation. Why would I study those who studied Scripture over studying Scripture itself?)
Ptolemy’s Almagest—the cosmological equivalent to Calvin’s Institutes—accurately discerned that the earth was spherical—a truly significant recognition for the second century—but he still held (perfectly naturally, granted his vantage) a geocentric understanding of all else. There was much more to be ‘unearthed’ (pardon the pun), and had cosmology never moved beyond Ptolemaic reforms, we might still believe the sun to orbit around a non-rotating, static earth. Practically speaking this may not have made a huge difference (we would still have sufficient knowledge to enable, e.g., circumnavigation of the globe), but we would remain at a loss for further space exploration and explanation. Fortunately semper reformanda remained a byword for cosmologists (despite resistance from traditionalists in every era), and today heliocentrism is household cosmology.
It is in this regard that the Protestant Reformation is like the Ptolemaic Revolution. Just as in the case of Ptolemy, reform only began with Luther, Calvin, the Westminster Divines, et al. The Divines were not divine, nor are their “Standards” any standard whatsoever. Yes, like Ptolemy, they were right on a good many things, but they were wrong on a good many things as well, and only by studying Scripture as they themeselves did can one come to know which is which.
But it is this that modern “Reformed” folk cannot grasp. They would rather rely on the findings of their forebears than do what their forebears did or further their work. They see no need to investigate further. They would rather study the “Almagest” of their confessions than the “cosmos” of the Scriptures. They pride themselves in plumbing the depths of historical theology, whilst doing little to engage afresh in biblical theology. They read and write commentaries on Westminster and debate the meaning of Luther and Calvin, all while failing to investigate seriously the meaning of the Apostle Paul. And this effectively renders them one step removed from the Source of true reform. (To be sure, even if the Reformers did bequeath the best possible human representation of what Scripture actually taught, would that make them an object of study preferable to Scripture itself? Surely we’ve all played the “telephone” game in some form. Such a metaphor for cumulative error is so plain it needs no explanation. Why would I study those who studied Scripture over studying Scripture itself?)
Thus while in theory Presbyterians and Reformed churchmen could abandon or significantly revise the Westminster Standards to bring them into accordance with God’s Word, in practice this will never happen. This is not because (as they claim) these documents are the best representation of what Scripture actually teaches, but because those who safeguard them no longer have the ability to evaluate them. (Moreover, these documents hold just enough true biblical teaching to command complete, trusting allegiance from communicants of the churches they charter—ironically much the same as Rome does from Catholics.) There will be no further reform. Indeed, they are suspicious of it, inasmuch as the phrase semper reformanda has acquired new meaning and a bad name from liberal Protestants who use it to justify departure not only from tradition but from Scripture itself. And as so often happens, overreaction, retreat, and wagon-circling ensues.
But this relic of a phrase deserves our nostalgic attention. Its first known appearance in print occurs in Dutch Reformed pietism (Nadere Reformatie) and makes clear its intent:
But this relic of a phrase deserves our nostalgic attention. Its first known appearance in print occurs in Dutch Reformed pietism (Nadere Reformatie) and makes clear its intent:
Ecclesia reformata semper reformanda est secundum Verbum Dei.‘A reformed church is always being reformed according to the Word of God.’2
The key words, of course, are secundum Verbum Dei ‘according to the Word of God’. And there is much in the visible church at large and the “Reformed” church in particular which is still not, I firmly believe, according to the Word of God—and thus which needs reform: e.g. covenant theology, baptism, interpretations of “justification” and the law, to name but a few. It is to such things that I hope to devote this blog, as time permits me to contribute thereto (which I confess in advance will not be as often as I’d like, granted my affection for my family and the tyranny of employment). Since I do not expect the visible church ever to truly engage in ongoing reformation, I have not chosen to name my blog something akin to “Semper Reformanda.” My purpose is more modest: simply to proclaim and defend what seems to my reason and conscience to be “according to the Word of God,” and to allow God to be glorified therewith—hence Secundum Verbum Dei. And whether anyone reads it or not, it will also give me the pleasure of getting such things off my chest (lest they privately torment me à la Jer 20:9).
According to Philipp Melanchthon’s 1546 account, Luther posted his 95 Theses on the door of Wittenberg’s All Saints’ Church on October 31, 1517.3 Thus it seems fitting to begin this weblog on a day that entails both celebration and lamentation for those of us who truly value what Luther began on that famous All-Hallows-Even; celebration that reform started nearly 500 years ago; lamentation that the church’s most ‘Reformed’ sectors have long since abandoned it. With the death of the Reformers came the death of reform. It is perhaps not too ironic, then, that Reformation Day coincides with an annual festival for the dead. It is certainly an epochal irony that those today who most ardently champion the Reformers’ legacy now effectively undermine it by turning the Reformers and their successors themselves into neo-papal authorities—giving lip-service to Sola Scriptura whilst clinging at all costs to the Reformers’ interpretations, now enshrined (and permanently stalled) in the various confessions and catechisms they earnestly protect (lest they depart from the “historic teachings of the church”). Their motto is now rather akin to the competing phrase coined by Pope Innocent XI: numquam reformata quia numquam deformata ‘never reformed because never deformed’. Of them the proverbs are true (Prov 26:11; 2 Pet 2:22).
Happy Halloween.
1 Roland H. Bainton, Here I Stand: A Life of Martin Luther (New York: Penguin, 1977), 141–44; James M. Kittelson, Luther the Reformer: The Story of the Man and His Career (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1986), 159–61.↩
2 Jodocus van Lodenstein, Beschouwinge van Zion ‘Contemplation of Zion’ (Amsterdam, 1674).↩
3 Martin Brecht, Martin Luther (tr. James L. Schaaf, Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1985–93), 1:200–201.↩
I enjoyed your article and quoted from it in one of my articles:
ReplyDeletehttp://fullpreterism.com/when-a-reformed-hyper-creedalist-calls-me-a-heretic-i-ask-him-or-her-the-following-challenging-questions/
Have you considered that the Reformed amillennialists and partial preterists have "contradicted" themselves and that full preterism is actually the organic development of the two "Reformed and always reforming?" I encourage you to get a copy of our book if you don't have it - "House Divided Bridging the Gap in Reformed Eschatology A Preterist Response to When Shall These Things Be?"