Book Review
by John M. Frame
Brian
G. Armstrong: Calvinism and the Amyraut Heresy.
It is a bit surprising that the name of
Moise Amyraut (Latin form Amyraldus; hence “Amyraldianism”) is not
better known in a time such as ours when so many evangelical Christians want to
be known as “four point Calvinists.” Many, indeed, in our time seem to want to
say (a) that Christ atoned in some sense for the sins of every human being, (b)
that nevertheless all men are not saved, and (c) that in the final analysis it
is God, not man, who determines what persons shall be saved and which ones
lost. But making these propositions work together in a Scripturally and
logically cogent way is a task requiring considerable subtlety of mind, and no
one, to my knowledge, has ever done it better than Amyraut. Further, Amyraut
wove these propositions into the context of a rather distinctive theological approach—a
method, emphasis, and style significantly different from those of other
theologians of his time (1596–1664). I suspect that the appeal of “four point
Calvinism” even today can be best understood by reference to Amyraut’s general
theological mentality—a mentality shared to some extent by many today who know
little of Amyraut. Thus, both proponents and critics of the “four point”
position can benefit from a study of Amyraut’s theology and approach to
theology. In such a study, Professor Armstrong’s book can be enormously
helpful.
In brief, Armstrong’s thesis is that
Amyraut’s thought, style, emphasis, and method were very similar to Calvin’s
and very dissimilar to those of the “orthodox,” “scholastic” theologians who
came to dominate the Reformed Churches after Calvin’s time. According to
Armstrong, Amyraut,
WTJ 34:2 (May
72) p. 187
like
Calvin, was a “humanist” by background and thus brought to his theology a
historical consciousness, an ethical concern, and a skillful textual scholarship.
By contrast, the scholastics were preoccupied with formal logic, rationalistic
systematizing, and speculative metaphysics more than with the history of
redemption and the concrete realities of the Christian life.
Since twentieth-century theology is in a
sense a series of attempts to transcend scholastic ways of thinking, it is not
surprising that Armstrong’s Amyraut comes out looking very much like a modern
man. On every page, it seems, we see ourselves and our colleagues. Like us
modern theologians, Amyraut is an ecumenist. He has a passion for the unity of
the church: he works for Reformed-Lutheran union; he eschews inflammatory
language in debate; he gains respect even from the Roman Catholic hierarchy; he
works against schism in his own communion, even occasionally defending his
opponents against unfair attack. Yet his ecumenism is not without principle: he
has the militancy to polemicize sharply against Arminian and Roman views on the
really crucial issues. Amyraut is as we are—or as we wish we were.
We avoid scholasticism by avoiding
speculation concerning God’s secret counsel; we want to limit our thought to
what God has revealed; so does Amyraut. For instance, he, like Calvin and
unlike the scholastics, discusses predestination, not in the context of the
doctrine of God (as an aspect of God’s secret counsel), but in the context of
the application of redemption (as an implicate of God’s historical redemptive
activity). Thus he makes the doctrine of predestination a comfort, not a
threat. (For a moment we wondered: is this Amyraut talking, or G. C.
Berkouwer?) We want to be “fearlessly anthropomorphic,” recognizing that all
revelation is in some sense adapted to our human understanding; so does
Amyraut. We want to “think historically,” viewing redemption as an unfolding
historical process rather than only as an eternal decree. We want to be “biblical theologians” and therefore “covenant theologians.” Amyraut does too. He
senses the centrality of the covenant concept in Scripture, particularly the distinction
between “absolute” covenants (such as the Noahic, providing unconditional
guarantees of blessing) and “hypothetical” covenants (such as the Mosaic, where
the blessing is conditioned upon human obedience to the covenant law). (Is this
Amyraut talking, or Meredith G. Kline?) He is sensitive, too, to the historical
distinctiveness of the new covenant in contrast with the old, and thus,
according to Armstrong, was able to reaffirm the centrality of the doctrine of
justification by faith, a doctrine which had been de-emphasized by the
scholastics. Faith itself is “central” to Amyraut, as
WTJ 34:2 (May
72) p. 188
to
Calvin. Amyraut is an “existential” thinker, concerned with the needs of
concrete human life. We try to be like that too.
The distinctive propositions of “Amyraldianism” arise out of Amyraut’s covenant theology, specifically from his
absolute/hypothetical distinction. On Amyraut’s view, Jesus died in order to
put one of the “hypothetical” covenants into effect. He died to establish a new
covenantal order—a way by which men may be saved if they obey the covenantal
command to believe. Since all men are under this new covenantal order,
responsible to obey its command, recipients of its conditional promise, it may
be said that Christ “died for” all men without exception; for his death puts
this new covenant into force. Yet Amyraut is still a Calvinist in that he
recognizes that redemption must be particularistic at some point. Man is dead
in trespasses and sins, and therefore cannot of himself fulfill the conditions
of any “hypothetical covenant,” even that instituted by the death of Christ.
This inability, he stresses, is “moral,” not “natural” (we might paraphrase
“sin is an ethical, not a metaphysical disability”—but would that be Amyraut
talking, or Cornelius Van Til?). It is a real inability, however, keeping man
from doing anything good. Thus regeneration is necessary; and the Spirit
regenerates only those who from all eternity have been chosen by God for
salvation. Thus on Armstrong’s account, Amyraut’s theology, in contrast with
scholasticism, is not only “Christocentric” (because “historically oriented”)
but also “Pneumatocentric” (because the work of the Spirit is so decisive).
Don’t we want our theology to be that way too?
The present reviewer is not an expert on
Amyraut, nor on seventeenth-century theology, nor on Calvin either, for that
matter; so if Armstrong has misinterpreted anyone or overlooked some relevant
data, you won’t learn about that here.1 I suspect that there
are few problems of this sort;
WTJ 34:2 (May
72) p. 189
surely
there are fewer prima facie omissions in Armstrong’s research than, say, in
Jack B. Rogers’ Scripture in the Westminster Confession (a book
otherwise remarkably similar to Armstrong’s in categories, argument, and point
of view). Yet (and this point is often overlooked) accuracy of interpretation
and comprehensiveness of scholarship are not sufficient to establish a case.
The logic of the matter must be considered as well. Let us examine Armstrong’s
argument that Amyraut was “truer to Calvin” than were the “scholastic” orthodox
Calvinists. Armstrong bases this conclusion upon (1) similarity of “approach,” method, theological structure, etc., between Amyraut and Calvin, and upon (2)
demonstrable doctrinal agreement between them. Let us look at each of these in
turn:
(1) Just what degree and kind of
agreement can be demonstrated by a comparison of method and structure? This is
a fairly difficult question. Theologians notoriously often have their strongest
disagreements with those whose approach is apparently most similar to their
own. Would Calvin have condemned the method of his scholastic successors?
Armstrong is fairly sure that he would have; I am not sure one way or the
other. I suspect that he would have found some of the scholastic
formulations “speculative,” but I have no reason to say that he would have
rejected the
WTJ 34:2 (May
72) p. 190
entire
effort. Why could he not have thanked God for raising up successors with
different backgrounds, interests, and skills from himself? Might he not
actually have prayed for helpers skilled in logic and philosophy who could
develop a tighter, more systematic formulation of the truth than he could have?
Armstrong makes his feelings clear on this point but in my opinion doesn’t
adequately argue his view. Let us be more specific. Armstrong attaches great
significance to the fact that Amyraut and Calvin did not, while the scholastics
did, discuss predestination under the locus de Deo. Now this fact is
interesting, especially so since Amyraut himself makes a point of it,
explaining why he avoids this scholastic practice. This difference in method,
then, clearly differentiates Amyraut from the scholastics. But does it
demonstrate more than formal unity between Amyraut and Calvin? And does it
demonstrate more than formal disunity between Calvin and the scholastics? Not
unless we know not only Amyraut’s reasons for his structuring, but also
Calvin’s reasons for his and the scholastics’ reasons for theirs. Armstrong
says nothing persuasive on these matters, nor is he especially clear.
Occasionally he seems to be saying (though not too coherently) that
predestination was not really very important for Calvin; but I hate to
attribute this view to Armstrong since it is so patently absurd and since in
any case it is implausible to advance this as the reason for Calvin’s
encyclopedic arrangement. It is therefore not at all clear that this point of
structure joins Calvin to Amyraut and separates him from the scholastics. It is
this sort of difficulty that seems to me to invalidate much of Armstrong’s
argumentation from method, structure, etc.
(2) But now: may we nevertheless
demonstrate that Amyraut’s distinctive teachings were in basic agreement with
those of Calvin? Armstrong’s exposition of Amyraut’s covenant theology does, I
think, remove one traditional objection against the assertion of such
agreement. The objection is that Amyraut introduces a contradiction into the
Reformed teaching which Calvin would not have tolerated: God did, and did not,
intend the benefits of the atonement for all men equally. Armstrong’s analysis
shows that on Amyraut’s view the only “benefit” of the atonement as such is the
covenant arrangement by which men may be saved if they believe. This benefit is
given to all men equally, with no reservation. Thus no contradiction need
arise, and Amyraut need not, at this point, be accused of contradicting himself
or Calvin. (Armstrong, however, does not seem to realize that no logical
tension remains here—hence his rather strange treatment of logic and
rationality on p. 170.) Yet the doctrinal agreement between Amyraut and Calvin
can be challenged at a more basic level. Armstrong shows through various
citations that Calvin, like Amyraut,
WTJ 34:2 (May
72) p. 191
believed
(a) that God wants all men to be saved if they believe and (b) that the
atonement of Christ carries out this desire of his. But such citations do not
show that Calvin accepted the distinctive tenets of Amyraut, nor do they show
that Calvin would have disapproved of the scholastic alternatives. For the
scholastics themselves could easily have accepted (a) and (b), without thereby
blunting their anti-Amyraldianism at all. The point at issue here is not
whether God wants all men to be saved if they believe. (Of course he does! 2
Peter 3:9 teaches as much!) Nor is it whether the atonement furthers this
particular desire. (Of course it does! It does legitimize the sincere
offer of salvation to anyone who believes!) No, the point at issue in the
Amyraldian controversy is neither (a) nor (b) nor both, but rather (c), that
the only purpose of the atonement is to further the divine desire named
in (a). Amyraut thought that the only purpose of the atonement was to make
salvation possible for men if they believe, that its only function was to
establish a “hypothetical covenant.” Armstrong, so far as I can see, presents
no evidence that (c), the real point at issue, was held by Calvin, or even that
it is compatible with Calvin’s thinking. Amyraut’s arguments for (c), in fact,
in my view, show how far Amyraut really is from Calvin both in method and in
doctrine. The bases which Amyraut offers for (c) are such as the following: an
extremely rigid view of the Trinitarian economy (he held that only the Holy
Spirit, not the Father or Son, could work “efficaciously”), a rigid view of the
historical structure of redemption (the Spirit alone “applies” redemption,
while only the Son is active in the “accomplishment” of it), and a desire to
“render (God’s predestinating) mercy superlatively commendable” (in this
context, to Roman Catholic inquirers). Armstrong himself presents these as
Amyraut’s reasons for (c), but does not try to find these in Calvin; in fact it
is obvious that this sort of thinking is quite foreign to Calvin and Scripture
and that it amounts to a kind of rationalism as bad as any scholastic
rationalism. Armstrong admits that there is a problem about Amyraut’s
“rationalism,” particularly in connection with his view of faith. (The least
cogent discussion of Armstrong’s book is his attempt to show that Amyraut’s persuasio
is really much more existential than the scholastic fiducia.) But
Armstrong seems blind to the rigid, actually unhistorical character of
Amyraut’s argumentation and the indefensibility of the distinctive Amyraldian
thesis on the basis of anything in Calvin.1
Thus we cannot accept Armstrong’s
explicit thesis, that Amyraut was “truer to Calvin” than his scholastic
opponents. Further, we are unable to go all the way with Armstrong’s implicit
thesis, namely, that Amyraut
WTJ 34:2 (May
72) p. 192
is
a good example for contemporary Reformed theologians to follow. There is much
that is admirable about Amyraut as a man and as a thinker, and we are most
grateful to Armstrong for his well-researched and compelling theological
portrait. I’m not sure, though, that the book is worth $12.50! Perhaps,
however, the best lesson we can learn from this study—besides the weakness of
the “four point” position!—is that escaping scholasticism is not enough, and
that at least some of the conventional “escapes” from scholasticism, both of
Amyraut’s day and our own, may in fact lead us back into the very evils we were
trying to avoid. And let us not suppose that some new theological system will
arrive to banish scholasticism forever! I suspect that no particular
theological method will provide a sure escape from those evils which we connect
with scholasticism; developed by sinful man those evils are sins of the heart,
and they can creep into any method, any kind of system, if the theologian is
not on guard. The remedy for theological barrenness is not necessarily a new
method, but always a prayer of repentance.
John M. Frame