The Theological Foundation And Goal Of Piety In Calvin And Erasmus

By Timothy J. Gwin

Two of the most important men involved in the sixteenth-century Continental Reformation were Erasmus of Rotterdam and the Frenchman, John Calvin. Both men sought to live pious lives as well as to influence other Christians for piety. Calvin concisely defines piety, or pietas, in his Institutes as “reverence joined with love of God which the knowledge of his benefits induces.” [1] Erasmus provides his definition of piety in his prefatory letter to Volz concerning his famous work, the Enchiridion. “Theology is piety, joined with skill in speaking on sacred subjects.” [2] Both Reformers understood piety as being indistinguishable from theology and necessary for reforming the church. In order to bring about change in the church, they employed their refined rhetorical writings to engage and inspire Christians to live lives of godliness or piety. [3] While Calvin’s rhetorical nuance appears to be heavenward, focused upon the sovereign God he beheld in the Scriptures, Erasmus’ focus appears to be earthbound towards the church that cost the God of Scripture His Son. In light of such theological nuances, both Reformers’ use of rhetoric was cast in decidedly different molds. Erasmus’s piety was cast horizontally in such a way as to evoke the love and service of neighbor in all things so as to bring about the glory of God. Calvin’s piety was principally cast vertically with a singular focus of motivating the faithful to extol the sovereign God of Scripture in all aspects of life, especially in worship.

Problems In Comparison Addressed

Many scholars might oppose the comparison of Calvin’s Institutes and Erasmus’ Enchiridion, citing the apparent differences of the works as well as those of the authors themselves. Historically, interpreters of Erasmus have not depicted him as a theologian but as a humanist scholar; however, very few would dispute the title for Calvin. In his own day, Erasmus was alleged to be simply a grammarian and rhetorician, not a theologian as Calvin. [4] This view, however, has substantially changed due in large part to the University of Toronto’s Erasmus project, which began in 1968. The first volume was published in 1974, with a total of eighty-six volumes planned for publication. As more and more of Erasmus’s works have been published in English, scholars have been challenged to rethink Erasmus in the light of his own work. The result of this has been the scholarly community’s acquiescence to Erasmus as a theologian, even if not in the same category as the scholastics. [5] Some have sought to advance the view of Erasmus as an artful theologian, claiming that the great rhetorician used rhetoric in the service of his theological pursuits. Manfred Hoffman is a major proponent of this view. He writes:

What is beginning to emerge is the profile of a humanist who in fact taught a distinct theology that constituted the bedrock of his thought as a whole. Moreover, his theological insights were not simply bunched in haphazard juxtapositions with disparate parts pieced together for ad hoc arguments. Rather, his theological thought constituted a system of coordinates, a matrix of comprehensive understanding informing his entire work. [6] Certainly, this hermeneutical blueprint of the biblical humanist represents a system quite unlike that of a medieval summa since it replaces the rigid structure of cogently argued syllogistic conclusions with a looser framework of thought. But this framework is cohesive, nonetheless, for it outlines coordinates intersecting in a scopus, identifies topoi in their proper places of convenience, and draws connections in a generally coherent way. [7]

In order to understand Erasmus’s theological system, one must rely heavily upon his hermeneutical and exegetical biases in which language and rhetoric maintain a critical position in identifying the scopus (scope) and topoi (topics), as Hoffman suggests. [8] It is apparent that Erasmus’s theological approach differs substantially from Calvin’s more systematic approach, which one poignantly sees in the Institutes and his Genevan Catechism. [9] Irrespective of differing approaches, many points of comparison exist. John W. O’Malley ties these two great works together as both claiming to instruct Christians in living lives of piety. He writes:

The Enchiridion…or, as Erasmus called it, ‘compendiariam quamdam Vivendi rationem’—‘a kind of summary guide to living.’ It professed to equip its readers with all that was essential to Christian piety, much as Calvin would later claim for his Institutes, which he in fact terms in the language of his original title a summa pietatis. Like that work, the Enchiridion prided itself on the simplicity, yet sufficiency, of what it enjoined. The popularity of both books suggests that they responded even in this claim to a need felt by contemporaries. [10]

Recent interpreters of Erasmus who have finally embraced the view that the Enchiridion is a theological work have simply affirmed what Erasmus himself believed. A reader might describe this work as being about “the Christian life” but not about theology. Erasmus spent a great deal of time disputing such a dichotomy. O’Malley writes, “While it is true that the Enchiridion is filled with ascetical and moralistic recommendations, Erasmus consistently relates them to a theological understructure.” [11] The most acute point of analysis is in the comparison of the “theological understructure” of Erasmus’ work with that of Calvin’s. Enlightened by the affirmation of both Erasmus and a growing segment of modern scholars, the theological comparison of these great works and their author’s nuanced rhetoric to influence piety is justified.

Erasmus And Pietas

If word usage is an indicator of an essential aspect of the Enchiridion, then pietas or pius is a central theme in this literary work simply on the basis that Erasmus cites them over a hundred times. [12] Erasmus disliked the scholastic approach to theology and understood theologians, such as Aquinas, to bifurcate piety from theology. [13] In order to move away from what he viewed as primarily a “contemplative” discipline, Erasmus sought to maintain a fundamental link between pietas and theology in the practical ministry of the church. O’Malley writes:

Nothing is perhaps more characteristic of Erasmus in this regard than his striving to integrate pietas, theology, and the practice of ministry. This is where we discover in profound fashion the seamless robe of his pietas, and this is why in his catalogue for Boece he could group together under that heading his Enchiridion, his work on the sacrament of confession, and his Ratio verae theologiae. Piety, theology, and ministry were for him but different aspects of one reality. [14]

With such an integration of pietas, theology, and ministry, one can see the fundamental place of pietas in Erasmus’ writing. The astute reader should be able to draw foundational conclusions regarding the nature of pietas from his theology. This “seamless robe of his pietas” is carefully nuanced to bring about the “one reality” of a morally pure church obedient to the commands of God in the daily lives of Christians. The integration of piety, theology, and practice was the result of many cultural influences of the day. The church’s teaching about the nature of humanity coupled with the rising humanist movement had a profound influence on the European scholars. Such a combination found expression in Erasmus’s unique perspective of what the Christian life should be and how it should be modeled in the world.

Erasmus acquired a vast amount of knowledge pertaining to the religious traditions of the church. Reared in Holland, the illegitimate son of a monk, and subsequently educated by the Brethren of the Common Life, he developed a profound sense of what it meant to be a “son of the Church.” [15] His pietas flowed naturally from such experiences and, as such, was inherently traditional. Erasmus’s intimate knowledge of the Christian culture which produced him, coupled with his vast knowledge of Scripture and the church fathers left him uniquely equipped to speak to the sixteenth-century European culture so colored by the church. [16] Being experientially and intellectually informed as to the nature and tradition of the church, Erasmus proposed through his Enchiridion an alternative pietas to correct the many abuses that he had both experienced and witnessed within the church. Humans, whom Christ loved and for whom He died, were being abused by the very system that was to be the embodiment of love as expressed in the Sermon on the Mount. Love and service for one’s neighbor were to be central for true piety.

Erasmus wrote to liberate the faithful throughout Roman Catholic society so they could pursue pietas in whatever state they found themselves placed by God. He asserted that monks and clergy were not the only ones created by God to pursue a life of piety or godliness, but that lay people, whether married, single, or widowed, were to pursue pietas. In his De Vidua Christiana, Erasmus emphasizes this position by stating that God accommodates Himself to His people in their particular life-calling, which includes the married woman as well as the widow. Both states are complementary rather than competing, just as singleness and the married life are complementary as God-given vocations within the community of the saints. [17]

In addition to encouraging laypeople to pursue piety, Erasmus also sought to correct the abuses he saw within the religious orders done in the name of piety, including “pilgrimages, ‘rash’ vows, superstitious invocation of the saints, and the veneration of relics.” [18] He labels them as abusive, leading people away from the love of neighbor, and he goes so far as to assert that the monastic life is not a pious life. [19]

The Latin title of his work “enchiridion,” can be translated one of two ways, as either “the handbook” or “the sword” of the Christian soldier. Erasmus desired to set forth what it means to be a Christian in this life of spiritual warfare. Within the pages of Enchiridion, he develops the foundational structure necessary for a pious life, which he calls the “philosophy of Christ.” He re-casts the moralistic teaching of the church using the nuanced language of warfare in order to move Christians towards a holistic piety. The church’s teaching had become heavily individualistic in nature as she motivated the faithful to come to the church and labor under a system of penance for salvation. Erasmus, however, sought to re-cast the moralistic teaching of the church in light of Christian community which included love for neighbor and warring against the sinful tendencies of flesh. This horizontal piety took shape in Erasmus’ “philosophy of Christ.”

Erasmus’s Understanding Of The Philosophy Of Christ As The Foundation Of Pietas

Because of his humanistic training, Erasmus toiled to produce a specified effect upon those who read Enchiridion. By taking the essential teachings of the Master Teacher, Jesus, and applying to them the skilled art of rhetoric, Erasmus was able to bridge the intellectual gap between the simple yet mysterious biblical text and the correct application of the text. Since Erasmus held the allegorical hermeneutic as necessary for the truest and deepest interpretation of the Scripture, he viewed correct application as not simply a matter of literacy. He even goes so far as to suggest that, without the allegorical method, Scripture is no more useful than pagan myth. He writes:

If you read unallegorically of the infants struggling within the womb…David’s slaying of Goliath with a sling, and the shaving off of Samson’s locks, then it is of no more importance than if you were to read the fiction of the poets. What difference is there whether you read the Book of Kings or the Book of Judges or Livy’s history, if in none of them you perceive the allegory?...Therefore you must reject the carnal aspect of the Scriptures, especially the Old Testament, and ferret out the spiritual sense. Without the spiritual, Manna will taste to you like that which you already have on your palate. [20]

With such a conviction, Erasmus could not simply produce a critical Greek New Testament and allow the text to speak for itself as a philologist would. While he did believe the essence of Scripture was the Philosophia Christi, he also felt that most Christians could not fully comprehend it. [21] The Enchiridion and other works became for Erasmus a theological paradigm through which the Philosophia Christi could be understood and attained. In the Enchiridion, he suggests the solution for the laity, a “simple but scholarly exposition.” [22] With these convictions, he brought to bear on the church his own commentary of the Christian life—Enchiridion. It is almost as if Erasmus was seeking to do for the church via Enchiridion what Thomas Moore was seeking to do for the State via Utopia. At this point, Erasmus moves from humanist scholar to that of theologian, and his theological foundation and framework necessary for the pious life rested in the Philosophia Christi, which was heavily nuanced with moralistic overtones. [23]

Erasmus’s theological foundation directly opposed what he saw as abuses in the church. Pure Christianity could not be attained by the faithful through rituals, laws, and dogma that had come out of the medieval church to represent pious living. Erasmus sought a transformation of the faithful not only by looking to the life of Jesus as model, but more importantly through a heart “innerly changed and transformed into that which [a Christian] learn[s] from Scripture.” [24] The child of God looks in the wrong direction for pious instruction if he relies solely upon Jesus or the church and her dogmatic and ritualistic focus on Christ. Erasmus writes:

And yet after the performance of so many miracles, after they had been exposed for so many years to the teaching that proceeded from the mouth of God, after so many proofs of his resurrection, did he not upbraid them for their incredulity at the very last hour as he was about to be received into heaven? What reason can be adduced for this? It was the flesh of Christ that stood in the way.... If the physical presence of Christ is of no profit for salvation, shall we dare to place our hopes for the attainment of perfect piety in any material thing? Paul had seen Christ in the flesh. What greater thing can be imagined? But he makes little of that, saying: “Even if we knew Christ in human terms, we no longer know him in that way.” Why did he not know him? Because he had advanced to a higher state of grace. [25]

This “higher state of grace,” which Erasmus claims for Paul came through the apostles’ Philosophia Christi, is a saving grace that must be sought beyond the physical life of Christ and His moral example. This “higher state of grace” may be found in His teaching or “philosophy” in the Scripture. Eramsus maintained that through the Philosophia Christi, the Christian is transformed and led to crucify the flesh and live a life of conformity to Christ. This tranformation steming from the “philosophy” is in itself salvific [26] and manifests itself in a life of service and love for neighbor, as it did in the life of Christ. McConica captures the essence of Erasmus’s Philosophia Christi as that “conviction intended to move Christians to an interior apprehension of the Gospel, an apprehension which will bring them to live it.” [27] For Christians to live a life of pietas, they must learn the ways of pietas from the teaching that permeates pietas—Philosophia Christi.

Erasmus’s Call To Pietas Through Unity (Ecclesiological) And Law

The Enchiridion clearly draws out the institutional underpinnings of baptism, which hold all Christians together in the federal bonds of church unity. Even though Erasmus wrote separate treatises for marriage and penance, he wrote much more frequently about the sacrament of baptism than all the other sacraments. He unreservedly recognized the seven sacraments of the Roman Catholic church as instruments of grace when properly administered. The faithful needed the assistance of the church, charged with dispensing the necessary sacraments, for grace to be worked in the heart of the Christian. [28] This grace is necessary for a life of piety that merits the merit of Christ.

Through his friendship with John Colet, Erasmus was influenced by St. Augustine’s ecclesiology while not holding to his anthropology. [29] Like Augustine, his traditionalism manifested itself in his acknowledgment of the necessity of baptism for entrance into the body of Christ through the cleansing of original sin. [30] The baptismal vows a Christian takes played a significant role in Erasmian spirituality as a life lived out in love and service within the communion of the saints. O’Malley writes, “The Enchiridion proposes a pietas that rests in a general way on the doctrine of the baptismal vows, on incorporation into the body of Christ.” [31] Erasmus proposed such a pietas that does not simply rest with baptism into church unity alone, but finds its fullest expression in the Imitatio Christi. He writes:

To die to sin, to die to carnal desires, to die to the world is an arduous goal, and there are very few, even among monks, who attain to it. Yet this is the common profession of all Christians. You swore to this long ago at baptism. What vow could be more holy or religious than that? We must either perish or advance resolutely along this path to salvation, ‘be we kings or poorest peasants.’ But if it is not granted to all to arrive at the perfect imitation of the Head, all must none the less strive with all their strength to reach it. He who has earnestly resolved to become a Christian has already acquired a good share of Christianity. [32]

The Christian soldier struggling to live a pious life, with the aid of baptismal grace, needed, however, something more to subdue “the old malady” remaining within.

Given Erasmus’s historical context and his theological commitments, it is not surprising that he never tired of heralding the law, with its moral obligations, as necessary for a life of pietas. In an effort to move men onto the path of pious living and to keep them on the path, Erasmus spent a great deal of time writing about the “sins of the flesh,” such as fornication, adultery, lying, and avarice. The pious person, informed as to the true nature of pietas through the Philosophia Christi, conquers his or her lusts and sins, moving from one battle to the next. Erasmus writes, “Can you not control your passions even for a few months so that you may spend your whole life in peace, as God your creator commands?” [33] This transforming philosophy, which encompasses moralism, is essential for the spirit to subdue the brutish and sinful flesh of the Christian and will necessarily flow from a life of piety.

Erasmus’s focus upon horizontal piety caused him to make much of the sins that had a visible impact upon the church. He tirelessly corrected the wayward morals of both the laity and clergy who engaged in such practices as gluttony, drunkenness, lasciviousness, laziness, and self-indulgence. [34] His correction of wayward morals by the law became a fundamental aspect for developing and maintaining Christian piety. The faithful Christian soldier was commanded to live within the moral boundaries systematically established by the church. Erasmus viewed a moral life as a life of purity and piety and devised a corrective for the wayward Catholic pattern. He reflects, “In the Enchiridion I laid down quite simply the pattern of a Christian life.” [35] This pattern for Erasmus took shape in his moralistic teaching, which adorns nearly every page of the Enchiridion. His exaggerated emphasis upon the necessity of morality in guiding the faithful in the way of piety could lead one to reduce Erasmus’s teaching to simply legalism. This conclusion is not valid if one takes into consideration the purpose for Erasmian law-keeping as foundational for the church to function as God intended. [36]

Erasmus’s trichotomist anthropology may explain his heavily moralistic teaching. It would appear that Erasmus’s ontology was substantially influenced by Platonic and Neo-Platonic tenets. Many scholars have noted a fundamental prevalence of platonic ideas in Erasmus that go beyond a shared intellectual method to that of metaphysics. [37] The Enchiridion is replete with rhetorical nuance that embody some platonic and neo-platonic themes. The metaphysical complexity of humanity becomes the focal point for the Christian battle that takes place within the fallen world. Just as the many temptations that confront humanity present themselves in both spiritual and physical forms, so, too, the Christian soldier, as a microcosm of the world in which he or she lives, battles for piety in both a spiritual and physical dimension. Erasmus illustrates:

Therefore the spirit makes us gods, the flesh makes us brute animals. The soul constitutes us as human beings; the spirit makes us religious, the flesh irreligious, the soul neither the one nor the other. The spirit seeks heavenly things, the flesh seeks pleasure, the soul what is necessary. The spirit elevates us to heaven, the flesh drags us down to hell, the soul has no charge imputed to it. Whatever is carnal is base, whatever is spiritual is perfect, whatever belongs to the soul as life-giving element is in between and indifferent. [38]

The Christian’s soul is caught in the middle of a heated battle between the flesh and the spirit. In order to live the victorious Christian life, a life of virtue and piety acceptable to God, the Christian must fight against the flesh. [39] Thus, the moralistic imperative must maintain a central place in the Christian life to spur on the Christian in the conquering of lust from one battle to the next. For Erasmus, living in the spirit does not simply mean warring against sinful urges but conquering the vice of flesh. He grants the law as necessary for pietas insofar as the law motivates the Christian to pious living.

Finally, a life lived in harmony with the law will appease God. Erasmus maintains that the nature of a truly pious life is found within a soul that has been transformed by the Philosophia Christi and then seeks to imitate Christ using the law as guide. Such a person transcends the flesh, as is evident in his or her horizontal piety through spiritual sacrifices done in love and service to neighbor, and is pleasing to God. While humanity witnesses the external fruit of such piety, Erasmus asseverates, “God is appeased only by invisible piety,” because, “God is spirit, and he is moved by spiritual sacrifices.” [40]

Calvin And Pietas

Calvin’s cardinal commitment to sola scriptura, which he uniquely nuances as having both objective and subjective elements, has been widely acknowledged by scholars. [41] It is the Scripture that informs Calvin’s concept of piety, because the Scripture provides a person with true knowledge of God and self. Calvin asserts that no one can truly love and serve God who has not been educated in His school of the Scripture. [42] This knowledge is necessary for true piety. [43] Calvin’s writings on the subject of piety are framed by the three uses of the law and supported by the loving God he beheld in the covenant of grace. The third use of the Decalogue, however, maintains the prominent position within the Christian life in order to instruct the faithful in godly or pietistic living before a sovereign God. Found within his rhetoric of pietas, Calvin’s axiomatic doctrine is the believer’s mystical union with Christ. His expression of this doctrine manifests the Reformer’s fundamental theological commitment to a vertical piety. Calvin’s apologia for the life of piety rests on the sovereign God of Scripture who unites the spiritually dead person to Christ. Because of that union, the Christian has both the power and the obligation to live his or her life with zeal to illustrate the glory of God in thought, word, and deed and, as such, is manifest by a life of vertical piety. The nature of this vertical piety is marked by honor resulting in obedience rendered to God as Father and reverential fear which results in service rendered to God who is LORD. [44]

After Geneva became a Reformed city, the Italian Cardinal, Sadolet, wrote to the City Council of Geneva in an attempt to bring them back under papal influence. He began his letter with a lengthy section on the costliness of eternal life before presenting his disputation against the Reformation. In the fall of 1539, Calvin wrote a masterful response to Sadolet, which took just six days to pen. Luther read the letter and exclaimed, “Here is a writing which has hands and feet. I rejoice that God raises up such men.” [45] This, being one of Calvin’s earliest letters, exposes the heart of the young theologian. The foundational and central issue for Calvin, which shaped his life, both public and private, was the supremacy and majesty of the glory of God. [46] Calvin writes:

[Your] zeal for heavenly life [is] a zeal which keeps a man entirely devoted to himself, and does not, even by one expression, arouse him to sanctify the name of God.... It is not very sound theology to confine a man’s thought so much to himself, and not to set before him, as the prime motive of his existence, zeal to illustrate the glory of God.... I am persuaded that there is no man imbued with true piety who will not consider as insipid that long and labored exhortation to zeal for heavenly life, a zeal which keeps a man entirely devoted to himself and does not, even by one expression, arouse him to sanctify the name of God. [47]

The ethos of Calvin’s response was demonstrated throughout much of his writings. The Reformer maintained a singular goal for piety as soli Deo Gloria, with a singular motivation for piety as the sovereign God he found in Scripture, which he asserted all of humanity lived before as coram Deo.

Calvin’s Understanding Of Scripture As The Foundation Of Pietas

In light of the Reformer’s nuanced approach to a vertical piety centering upon God, the necessity of revelation naturally found expression in Calvin’s writings. He maintained in his rhetoric of piety the absolute necessity of God’s revelation. Without knowledge, specifically the knowledge of God and of self, true piety cannot exist. According to John T. McNeill, Calvin’s theology is “his piety described at length,” [48] which is the very reason that Calvin wrote the Institutes. In the preface of the Institutes, he addresses the King of France, Francis I, and states that the purpose of writing the Institutes was “solely to transmit certain rudiments by which those who are touched with any zeal for religion might be shaped to true godliness (pietas).” [49]

Calvin intended for his Institutes of the Christian Religion to be used in conjunction with his commentaries as a handbook for studying Scripture. The Reformer put the greatest amount of effort in his line-by-line expositional commentaries of Scripture because he believed the recovery of Scripture to be fundamental in bringing about Christian piety that would result in reform. He desired to see the faithful conformed in their thinking and behavior to the faith of the Scripture. [50] In his view, without God’s special revelation to mankind, there could be no conformity to true piety. Calvin maintained that the Scripture delivered by God is the beginning of covenant consciousness for the people of God, and the first step of faith. The fruit of such Scripture-informed faith becomes apparent in the knowledge that God is Father. [51] This knowledge of God as Father was central to his rhetoric of piety in which he re-cast the view of God by emphasizing familial language. This revelation, according to Calvin, can only take place when true knowledge, the Scripture, is met with a heart changed by the indwelling of the Holy Spirit.

Some scholars hold that Calvin was overly influenced by his doctrine of God. [52] The Reformer, however, maintained that men do not live out their created purpose until they are so changed by the power of the Holy Spirit, who instructs the heart in the truth of the Scripture so that the re-created man cries out:

Conversely, we are God’s: let us therefore live for him and die for him. We are God’s: let his wisdom and will therefore rule all our actions. We are God’s: let all the parts of our life accordingly strive toward him as our only lawful goal [Rom. 14:8; cf. 1 Cor. 6:19]. O, how much has that man profited who, having been taught that he is not his own, has taken away dominion and rule from his own reason that he may yield it to God! [53]

The Reformer held an all-pervasive view of God’s sovereign control and taught that because the covenanting God redeems, justifies, adopts, and sanctifies His people, they are delivered from the dominion of sin unto a life of piety in which the glory of the Lord may shine through them. Calvin communicated in his writing and preaching the way in which God instructs His people to glorify and serve Him. He was convinced that for true piety to exist, it must be fed God’s Word and that “piety would soon decay if the living preaching of doctrine [Scripture] should cease.” [54] The Spirit of God enables and advances the child of God in the way of piety. One of the tools used to spur on the elect in the pursuit of godliness is the law, which becomes the rule of life for the Christian. [55]

Calvin’s Call To Pietas Through Covenant, Unity (Christological), And Law

Throughout redemptive history, God’s people have asked the question, “How do we glorify God?” The answer to this question has taken on many different shapes as the church has waxed and waned from one generation to the next, from the Old dispensation to the New. Calvin’s answer to this question was shaped as much by his understanding of God’s covenant as by any other doctrine. The covenantal framework insists upon the continuity of the Old and New Testament; because God deals with His people by way of covenant, which comes through God’s Word, Calvin held the Word as central to the instruction of God’s people. He writes:

Because the Word of God is called our spiritual sword we ought to be armed with it. For in this world the devil never stops fighting against us, to seduce us and lure us into his falsehood. Now, to exhort us the better to do this, St Paul here says, first, that God’s Word deserves such reverence that each person shall range himself beneath it and listen to it peaceably and without contradicting. Next, he adds the profit we receive from it—and this also should move us to receive it with all reverence and obedience. Now, he is speaking principally of Holy Scripture. [56]

Fundamental for Calvin was the Scripture studied and understood through this covenantal framework, which enabled him and other Reformers to see what they believed to be the greater mosaic of God’s redemptive plan. [57] This hermeneutic, guided and influenced by a covenantal view of Scripture, informed Calvin’s understanding of the place of God’s special revelation, both law and gospel, in the life of the Christian. Calvin writes:

God has prescribed for us a way in which he will be glorified by us, namely, piety, which consists in the obedience of his Word. He that exceeds these bounds does not go about to honor God, but rather to dishonor him. [58]

The desire for Scripture, the willingness to place oneself under its authority, the mortifying of sin in the flesh, and a longing for loving obedience cannot take place unless a person is brought into union with Christ. A person united to Christ by faith, living a life of piety, is under the authority and guidance of Scripture; however, a person who rejects Scripture draws a strong rebuke from Calvin. He asserts:

Creatures undertake war against God if they will not accept Holy Scripture. Why? “It is not of man’s fabricating;” says St Paul, “there is nothing earthly here.” …Holy Scripture is profitable. For when it pleased God to teach us by its means this was for our good and salvation. But Holy Scripture will not be profitable if we are not convinced that God is its author. [59]

The full flower of Calvin’s covenantal thought is evident in his doctrine of union with Christ. God has not simply bound Himself to His people physically by way of covenantal signs but also spiritually, making effectual all of His great promises. Just as God came down to meet the people at Mt. Sinai to give them the law, He also comes down and meets with the elect through the Holy Spirit to write His law on their hearts. David Willis-Watkins explains:

Calvin’s doctrine of union with Christ is one of the most consistently influential features of his theology and ethics, if not the single most important teaching that animates the whole of his thought and his personal life. [60]

According to the Reformer, the person enabled to confess in unison with Calvin, “Cor meum tibi offere domine prompte et sincere,” (“Unto you, Lord, I offer my heart, promptly and sincerely”) is one who has been brought into union with Christ and has the law of God written upon his heart. Calvin was convinced that what had been written on the stone tablets on Mt. Sinai became one and the same with what is written on the hearts of believers. With such a view, the law took a substantial place in shaping his piety, which prompted many of his contemporaries as well as modern scholars to charge Calvin with a legalistic tyranny enforced by the Genevan City Council. [61]

Calvin understood the Decalogue to operate similarly to preaching and the sacraments. The Decalogue is a summation of the entire moral law of Scripture and represents humanity’s duties to both God and man. Calvin discusses the two tables of the Decalogue:

Accordingly, in the First Table, God instructs us in piety and the proper duties of religion, by which we are to worship his majesty. The Second Table prescribes how in accordance with the fear of his name we ought to conduct ourselves in human society. [62]

B. W. Farley, in his introduction to Calvin’s sermons on the Ten Commandments, notes how Calvin develops in the Institutes five themes from the moral law that he expounds in his sermons on Deuteronomy. First, the moral law cannot be separated from the natural law that God has written upon the hearts of every human being. Secondly, Jesus Christ is the fulfillment of the law, and, as such, Christ is the telos of the law. Thirdly, the moral law is two-edged, enclosing blessing and cursing, promise and hopelessness. The law’s demand is more than any person can fulfill if that person seeks to be justified through law-keeping. Fourthly, because of Christ Jesus, the law has been rendered impotent as the letter that kills because, for the Christian, the law has become a spiritual blessing, freeing one to love and serve the Lord. Finally, the law functions in three distinct ways. It reveals the holy character of God and His rejection of sin; it restrains evil within the world as it is wielded by the civil government; and it teaches and encourages believers how to live in a manner that is pleasing to God. [63] Farley writes:

In the sermons, it is this third function [or third use of the Law] that dominates.... It is the third use that empowers the series. From beginning to end, Calvin’s primary purpose is to demonstrate how God’s will for everyday life is revealed in the Ten Commandments; and not only revealed, but published to exhort and strengthen man’s witness and confirm his life in obedience to God. In this respect, the third use of the law constitutes the critical foundation for all sixteen sermons. [64]

As an aspect of this third use, Calvin emphasized the necessity of delivering to the people the full counsel of God in order that godly correction might take place as a necessary part of pietas. The Reformer employs familial language in discussing how the law is used by the Father to move the Christian in the way of piety. [65] Calvin sought to correct those who charged him with legalism by insisting that the law applied apart from Christ Jesus and the covenant of grace will completely fail. He maintained that the law was not given to lead people away from the Christ; rather, it was given to prepare the way for Messiah’s coming. [66] Calvin’s message for the Christian concerning the law is it exists chiefly to direct the elect in the service and love of the Lord. [67]

Anthropology, Soteriology And Pietas

Does humanity initiate and participate in its own forgiveness and salvation, or does God initiate and complete salvation in the helpless person so all glory is necessarily attributed to God only? After Luther posted his 95 Theses in Wittenberg and the tide of reformation began to billow over Europe, Erasmus defended the Roman Church’s doctrine of man and his use of the will in his Diatribe entitled Discussion on the Freedom of the Will. Erasmus, the refined humanist, wrote his Diatribe in elegant and graceful Latin prose. This work often finds a prominent place in the argument that Erasmus’s value to the church was not as a theologian. In reading Erasmus on the nature of humanity, a sharp point of departure takes shape when comparing his understanding of anthropology and soteriology with that of Calvin.

The church called Erasmus to write a defense not only because of his fame and skill but also because of his apparent commitment to the fundamentals of the church’s teaching, such as the church as the great dispenser or wellspring of the sacraments that alone could provide the necessary baptismal cleansing for original sin. To Erasmus, the church was also the source for the equally necessary allegorical interpretation of Scripture to uncover the “philosophy of Christ.” Hoffman writes, “A composite picture of Erasmus’s statements on faith indeed bears out that his allegorical interpretation coordinates faith with Christ and the church.” [68] Erasmus held all of these actors as axiomatic along with the Christian’s acquiescence to them as necessary to bring about a faith which leads to the daily struggle for piety. On the basis of Christ’s suffering for sin and righteous law-keeping, the church invites all people through the proclamation of the “Philosophy of Christ” to exercise faith and return to their original image of God. [69] By faith and baptism, [70] Christians are united to Christ’s body, the church. Erasmus described this process as metamorphosis, or a transformation and transmutation. [71] The result of such a metamorphosis is a restoration of the Adamic state of innocence. This, for Erasmus, brings forth light from darkness, order out of perversion, and, most importantly, the freedom from guilt or evil enjoyed before the fall. [72] Hoffman writes, “Although this total change [in Christ’s body] is brought about by God’s love and grace alone, it nevertheless involves human action.” [73] With such apparent theological commitments that move away from understanding humanity as incapable of meriting salvation, Luther and others charged Erasmus and the church with holding a form of semi-Pelagianism, giving humanity power within to do meritorious works. They made the accusation that such theological commitments lead Christians away from rightly worshiping God and understanding His grace and salvation. O’Malley writes:

Christ is, then, first and foremost a teacher, ‘who has been sent forth from heaven,’ as the Paraclesis informs us. In many passages Erasmus leaves us with the impression, in fact, that it was by his teaching that Christ principally effected our salvation: ‘in order to transmit [the celestial philosophy], he who was God became man.’ He boldly states in the Paraclesis that the philosophy itself is ‘the restoration of human nature originally well formed.’ We miss in passages like these the Anselmian theory of atonement…there is a decidedly sapiential cast to Erasmus’ Christology, which surely reflects his own conviction that teaching, by word and example, is the basic function for good that all leaders in society perform—parents, priests, and kings. ‘The imitation of Christ’ lies pre-eminently in teaching—Erasmus’ own vocation, as we must not forget. [74]

It would appear that Erasmian faith, working with God, “unites” the Christian to Christ via the church, subsequently enabling him to make great use of the sacraments, the warnings of the law, as well as the all-important sapiential “Philosophy of Christ” in order to produce the struggle for a life of piety lived day-to-day. Erasmus, the herald of Philosophia Christi, set down the pattern for the Christian life of pietas in his Enchiridion. For many, this pattern has done the opposite. Huizinga writes, “On the contrary, Loyola has testified that the reading of the Enchiridion militis Christiani relaxed his fervour and made his devotion grow cold.” [75]

In juxtaposition, Calvin held an Augustinian view of humanity, and, as such, he placed the sine quo non for piety in the sovereign grace of God. [76] For Calvin, fallen humanity is incapable of reaching out to God or living lives of piety. He defined original sin as “hereditary depravity and corruption of our nature, diffused through all the parts of the soul, rendering us obnoxious to the divine wrath and producing in us those works which the Scriptures call the works of the flesh.” [77] Calvin could not agree with Erasmus, or the church then, concerning condign and congruent merit because of his Augustinian view that humanity is not spiritually ill, with wills inclined towards evil, but that humanity is spiritually dead and incapable of doing good in the sight of God. Calvin writes, “The will, therefore, is so bound by the slavery of sin, that it cannot excite itself, much less devote itself to anything good.” [78]

The implications of such a view ripple throughout Calvin’s theology and, necessarily, his soteriology. Often referred to as the “theologian of the Holy Spirit,” Calvin placed God alone as the one who pours out the Holy Spirit into the life of a spiritually dead and helpless person. [79] The Reformer maintained that only this gift of the Holy Spirit uniting the sinner to Christ is responsible for rendering the sinner capable of receiving the Scripture. [80] Furthermore, Calvin maintained, God alone gives the gift of the Scripture. Calvin held that the Scripture read or faithfully exposited, without the need of any special allegorical or tropological exegetical work produced by the church, is God’s accommodating communication of His love and benefits found in Christ. [81] The perspicuity of this simple gospel message, which was once the dead letter, is now living and irresistible to the sinner, newly united to Christ. Upon hearing the Scripture, the once dead sinner reaches out with “faith, if we call it a firm and certain knowledge of God’s benevolence toward us, founded upon the truth of the freely given promise in Christ, both revealed to our minds and sealed upon our hearts through the Holy Spirit.” [82] The object of Calvin’s faith, similar to Anselm, is the one and only person he believed could save sinners. Calvin writes, “This is our absolution, that the guilt which made us obnoxious to punishment, is transferred to the person of the Son of God.” [83]

A sharp contrast may be drawn between Calvin’s writing of the “dead letter” [84] of Scripture for those devoid of the Holy Spirit and Erasmus’s “pagan letter” of Scripture for all those devoid of the correct allegorical interpretation. Erasmian faith appears to be a daily symbiotic process employing the efforts of Christ, the Christian, and the church, while Calvin’s doctrine of faith appears to rest in God’s sovereign uniting of the helpless sinner to Christ. In this, Calvin saw an unmerited gift of grace that takes care of the believer’s fundamental problems hindering him or her from a life of piety. [85]

Conclusion

Both Erasmus and Calvin have had a profound impact upon Christianity and Western civilization. Erasmus’ gift of the Greek New Testament as well as his writings did much to alert people about the church’s shortcomings, especially in the area of horizontal piety. Calvin was able to build on Erasmus’s work to bring about a more thorough reform, heavily influenced by the primacy of vertical piety. At the heart of their theological commitments, their perspective views of pietas differ significantly; however, they both held the fundamental belief that theology would manifest itself in a life of piety.

Notes

1. John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion (hereafter, Inst.), ed. John T. McNeill (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1960), 1.2.1.
2. B. Corrigan, et al., eds., The Collected Works of Erasmus (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1976) (hereafter CWE) vol. 66, Enchiridion, XI.
3. The influence of classical rhetoric upon Christian theology has a long history. Since the birth of the New Testament church, Christian apologists have relied heavily upon Roman and Greek orators for rhetorical guidance in an effort to pre­sent persuasive arguments for Christian beliefs. For a recent study, see Serene Jones, Calvin and the Rhetoric of Piety (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1995).
4. See John B. Payne, “Rhetoric and Theology: The Hermeneutic of Erasmus” (book reviews). Renaissance Quarterly, Dec 1996.
5. Information about the history of Erasmus interpretation (with further bibliographical references) can be found in G. Ritter, Die gechichtliche Bedeutung des deutschen Humanismus (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1963); A. Flitner, Erasmus im Urteil seiner. Nachwelt (Tübingen: Niemeyer, 1952); W. Kaegi, “Erasmus im achtzehnten Jahrhundert,” Historische Meditationen (Zurich: Fretz & Wasmuth, 1942), 185 ff.; B.E. Mansfield, “Erasmus in the Nineteenth Century, the Liberal Tradition,” Studies in the Renaissance 15 (1968): 139 ff.; L.W. Spitz, The Religious Renaissance of the German Humanists (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1963), 234; M. Hoffmann, Erkenntnis und Verwirklichung der wahren Theologie nach Erasmus von Rotterdam (Tübingen: Mohr, 1972), 10 ff.; B.E. Mansfield, Phoenix of His Age: Interpretations of Erasmus c. 1550-1750 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1979); C. Reedijk, Tandem bona causa triumphat: zur Geschichte des Gesamtwerkes des Erasmus von Rotterdam (Basel-Stuttgart: Helbing & Lichtenhahn, 1980).
6. See Manfred Hoffmann’s Erkenntnis und Verwirklichung, 59 ff.; F. Kruger, Humanistische Evangelienauslegung, 29 ff.
7. Manfred Hoffmann, “Faith and Piety in Erasmus’s Thought,” Sixteenth Century Journal 20, 2 (1989): 242-243.
8. On Erasmus’s hermeneutic see J.B. Payne, “Toward the Hermeneutic of Erasmus,” in Scrinium Erasniinnum 2: 13 ff.; A. Rabil, Erasmus and the New Testament, 99 ff.; G. Chantraine, Erasme et Luther (Paris: Lethielleux; Namur: Presses Universitaires de Namur, 1981), 275 ff.; J. Chomarat, Grammaire et rhétorique chez Erasme, 509 ff.; B. Hall, “Erasmus, Biblical Scholar and Reformer,” in T.A. Dorey, ed., Erasmus (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1970), 81 ff.; C.A.L. Jarrott, “Erasmus’s Biblical Humanism,” Studies in the Renaissance 17 (1970): 119 ff.; J.B. Payne, “Erasmus, Interpreter of Romans,” Sixteenth Century Essays and Studies 2 (1971): 1 ff.; C. Augustijn, “Hyperaspistes I: La doctrine d’Erasme et de Luther sur la ‘Claritas Scripturae,’” Colloquia Erasmiana Turonensia 2 (1972): 737 ff.; M. Hoffmann, “Erasmus im Streit mit Luther,” Humanismus und Reformation: Martin Luther und Erasmus von Rotterdam in den Konflikten ihrer Zeit (Munchen-Zurich: Schnell & Steiner, 1985), 93 ff.; F. Kruger, Humanistische Evangelienauslegung, 80 ff.
9. Ford Lewis Battles, The Piety of John Calvin (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1978), 7.
10. CWE, vol. 66, Enchiridion, XLII.
11. Ibid., XLII.
12. Ibid., XI.
13. Ibid., XII.
14. Ibid.
15. Johan Huizinga, Erasmus and the Age of Reformation (New York: Phoenix Press, 1924), 5-9.
16. CWE, vol. 66, Enchiridion, XVI.
17. CWE, vol. 66, De Vidua Christiana, 201-205.
18. CWE, vol. 66, Enchiridion, XVII.
19. ‘Monachatus non est pietas,’ ASD 1-5, 367-381.
20. CWE, vol. 66, Enchiridion, 68.
21. Erasmus, Ratio Verae Theologiae, Holborn 295.1-5, quoted in Rummel, The Humanist-Scholastic Debate, 136.
22. CWE, vol. 66, Enchiridion, 73.
23. Joi Christians, “Erasmus and the New Testament: Humanist Scholarship or Theological Convictions?” Trinity Journal 19, 1 (1998): 70.
24. Erasmus, Ratio Verae Theologiae, quoted in C.J. De Vogel, “Erasmus and Church Doctrine,” in Scrinium Erasmianum, ed. J. Coppens (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1969), 106.
25. CWE, vol. 66, Enchiridion, 73.
26. CWE, vol. 66, Enchiridion, XXIII.
27. J. K. McConica, “Erasmus and the Grammar of Consent,” in Scrinium Erasmianum, 2:98.
28. CWE, vol. 66, Enchiridion, XXIII.
29. Peter Iver Kaufman, Augustinian Piety and Catholic Reform (Macon: Mercer University Press, 1982), 121-125.
30. CWE, vol. 66, Enchiridion, 54.
31. Ibid., XLII.
32. Ibid., 58.
33. Ibid., 47.
34. Ibid., XVIII.
35. Ep 337:94-95 in his letter to Dorp in defense of the Moria.
36. Brendan Bradshaw, “The Christian Humanism of Erasmus,” Journal of Theological Studies 33 (1982): 446.
37. Bradshaw, 441.
38. CWE, vol. 66, Enchiridion, 52.
39. Ibid.
40. Ibid., 81.
41. For a study that emphasizes this, see Randall C. Zachman, “John Calvin,” in Christian Theologies of Scripture, ed. Justin S. Holcomb (New York: New York University Press, 2006), 114-133.
42. John Calvin, Ioannis Calvini opera quae supersunt omnia, ed. Wilhelm Baum, Edward Cunitz, and Edward Reuss, Corpus Reformatorum, vols. 29-87 (Brunswick: C. A. Schwetschke and Son, 1863-1900), 32:249. In all footnotes below this one references to Corpus Reformatorum, Calvini Opera, volume and page will be indicated like this: CO, 32:249. Commentary on the Psalms (on Ps. 119:78f.), in CO 32:249.
43. Joel R. Beeke, Puritan Reformed Spirituality (Darlington: Evangelical Press, 2006), 1.
44. Battles, The Piety of John Calvin, 14.
45. Henry F. Henderson, Calvin in His Letters (London: J.M. Dent & Co., 1909), 68.
46. Inst., 3.2.26.
47. John Calvin, John Calvin: Selections from His Writings, ed. John Dillenberger (Missoula: Scholars Press, 1971), 89.
48. Cited in John Hesselink, “The Development and Purpose of Calvin’s Institutes,” in Richard C. Gamble, ed., Articles on Calvin and Calvinism, vol. 4, Influences upon Calvin and Discussion of the 1559 Institutes (New York: Garland, 1992), 215-216.
49. Inst. 1.9.
50. T. H. L. Parker, Calvin’s Preaching (Edinburgh: Westminster / John Knox Press, 1992), 1.
51. Inst. 2.6.1-2.
52. See David Hunt, Calvinism’s Misrepresentation of God (Bend: Loyal Publishing, 2004).
53. Inst. 3.7.1.
54. Calvin, Commentaries on the Four Last Books of Moses Arranged in the Form of a Harmony, trans. Charles William Bingham (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1979). 230.
55. Beveridge, Selected Works of John Calvin, 56 & 69.
56. CO 54:283.
57. Geerhardus Vos, “The Doctrine of the Covenant in Reformed Theology,” in ed. Richard B. Gaffin, Redemptive History and Biblical Interpretation: The Shorter Writings of Geerhardus Vos (Phillipsburg: P & R, 1980), 241-242.
58. Inst. CO 49:51.
59. CO 54:284-285.
60. D. Willis-Watkins, “The Unio Mystica and the Assurance of Faith According to Calvin,” in Willem van ’t Spijker, ed., Calvin: Erbe und Auftrag: Festshrift für Wilhelm Heinrich Neuser zum 65. Geburtstag (Kampen: Kok, 1991), 78.
61. See Milan Zafirovski, The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Authoritarianism, Puritanism, Democracy, and Society (New York: Springer, 2007).
62. Inst. 2.8.2.
63. Farley, John Calvin’s Sermons on the Ten Commandments, 24-25.
64. Ibid., 25.
65. CO 54:290.
66. Inst. 2.7.2.
67. Joel Beeke, “Calvin on Piety,” in Donald K. McKim, ed., The Cambridge Companion To John Calvin (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 133.
68. Hoffmann, 247.
69. ASD V–2, 150, 680; 209, 514; 212, 615; ASD V–3, 146, 974.
70. ASD V–2, 174, 323; 198, 142; 247, 740; 260, 180; 300, 451; V–3, 101, 231; 288, 38; 351, 577.
71. ASD V–2, 254, 979, 985; ASD V–3, 733; 234, 389.
72. ASD V–2, 174, 327; 198, 155; 260, 160; 349, 665, 666; ASD V–3, 384, 500.
73. Hoffmann, 248.
74. CWE, vol. 66, Spiritualia, xxii.
75. Johan Huizinga, Erasmus and the Age of Reformation (New York: Phoenix Press, 1924), 189.
76. CO 26:225; 29:5; 51:147.
77. Inst. 2.7.1.
78. Inst. 2.3.2.
79. See B.B. Warfield, Calvin as Theologian and Calvinism Today (Philadelphia: Presbyterian Board of Publication, 1909).
80. Inst. 3.2.2.
81. Ford Lewis Battles, “God Was Accommodating Himself to Human Capacity,” in Donald K. McKim, ed., Readings in Calvin’s Theology (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1984), 23.
82. Inst. 3.2.7.
83. Inst. 2.6.2.
84. Calvin, Commentary on the Acts of the Apostles, trans. Christopher Fetherstone (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2003), 103.
85. Inst. 3.2.2.