by Matthew T. Gaetano

Abraham Calov (1612-1686) is arguably the most important Lutheran theologian of the second half of the seventeenth century. He received his doctorate at Rostock in 1637, then taught and was a pastor in Königsberg before becoming a rector of the Danzig gymnasium in 1643. He apparently hoped to study with the great Lutheran dogmatic theologian, Johann Gerhard (d. 1637), but could not do so because of the Thirty Years’ War (1618-1648). He was also a pastor at that time. In 1649, he moved to Wittenberg where he held positions in the university and the church–he eventually became professor primarius and superintendent of the Saxon churches–until his death.

Robert D. Preus’s The Theology of Post-Reformation Lutheranism, vol. 1, defines the period of Lutheran orthodoxy as extending chronologically from the drafting of the great Lutheran confessional document, the Formula of Concord, until the time of the theologian David Hollaz in the early eighteenth century (44). He speaks of a silver age of orthodoxy which lasts from the end of the Thirty Years’ War until the conclusion of this period in the history of Lutheranism. Preus says that Calov “was the most brilliant and influential theologian of the silver age of Lutheran orthodoxy, a veritable pillar of orthodox Lutheranism” (59). One can see his immense literary output by looking just at his digitized works here. In my limited engagement with him, I’ve been struck over and over again by his erudition and clarity.

In vol. 8 of his Systema locorum theologicorum (1677), Calov deals with the diverse states of the Church, the nature of the Church, the ecclesiastical hierarchy, the economic (or household) hierarchy, and the political magistrate. In his treatise on the nature of the Church, after a long discussion of its different states (from–and I’m skipping quite a few periods–the Church before the Flood to the Church of the Israelites before and after the institution of the monarchy, to the Christian Church in the time of Jesus, and finally to the Church from the Reformation up to the end of the world), he defines the Church as

the assembly (coetus) of the faithful which, gathered under one Head, Christ, is nourished by Word and Sacraments and conserved by the same unto eternal life. (250)

He clarifies the definition by making use of the longstanding way of thinking about causes. The formal cause is the assembly (Eph. 4:15-16), the material cause is the faithful, and the principal efficient cause is Christ and the means are Word and Sacraments. The final cause is the sustenance and defense which arises from the scepter of the Word (Psalm 45:7)–in defense (Psalm 110:2) and in offense or rather in punishment (Psalm 2:9)–and ultimately eternal salvation (1 Peter 1: 3, 4, 9).

He continues:

The use of this doctrine is that we might be joined to the Church and that we not abandon its communion but desire [that communion] in the highest decree, inasmuch as, outside of it, there is no salvation. (251)

In his explanation of the final phrase (derived from the ancient Church), Calov cites 1 Peter 3:20 and says that “salvation is sought with temerity outside of the Church, nor can it be found elsewhere any more than conservation in the waters of the Flood [could be found] outside of the ark of Noah.”

The first controversial question in this section on the definition of the Church is about whether the Church is the communion of the faithful and the saints (or holy ones). Calov argues that the Roman Catholics (“papists”) and the Reformed (“Calvinists”) both err. Calov cites the definition of the Church of the major Jesuit theologian and controversialist, Robert Bellarmine: “the assembly (coetus) of human beings, bound in the profession of the same Christian faith and in the communion of the same sacraments under the rule of legitimate pastors and especially the one vicar of Christ, the Roman Pontiff.” Calov sees Bellarmine’s reference to the profession of faith as excluding unbelievers, apostates, and heretics. By referring to the communion of the sacraments, Calov sees him as excluding catechumens and the excommunicated. The idea of the Church as being defined in part by subjection to the Roman Pontiff is a way, Calov says, of excluding schismastics. The Lutheran theologian notes that being part of the true Church for Bellarmine does not require any internal virtue, but merely external profession and a  communion which “is perceived with the senses” (253). He also observes that the wicked who share in this external profession and communion are included.

Now, it is worth noting at the outset that, despite Calov’s presentation of Bellarmine’s position as at least typical of the position of Roman Catholics, we see some clear differences between Bellarmine and Suarez on a number of important points. As I discussed in a previous post, Suarez defines the Church as the body of those human beings “professing the true faith of Christ.” Like (Calov’s) Bellarmine, Suarez’s definition does include sinful Christians. But Suarez includes–and he notes that he does so in contrast with other Catholics–schismatics and the excommunicated, as long as they still are incorporated in Christ by the gift of true faith. (And, indeed, Bellarmine is highlighted in the footnotes on pp. 248 and 250 when Suarez’s text raises questions about the ecclesiological position of other Catholics.)

Suarez acknowledges that this intra-Catholic disagreement might be more about a way of speaking than about the reality itself. Nonetheless, he insists on the point because, if schismatics have true faith, “they are members of Christ, for they receive from Him the influx and act of spiritual life and thus also [are members] of the Church. For just as Christ’s head does not have another mystical body besides the Church, so neither are there other members except those who are members of the Church” (249). Schismatics also have an “essential conjunction with the other members,” even if there are concrete divisions in the world of our experience. Suarez gives a helpful analogy to the temporal commonwealth where the seditious do not immediately stop being members of that commonwealth. As with the excommunication, schism will of course bring about a deprivation of full “communication” with the other members of the Church (249-50), but this does not mean that one is not a member, inasmuch as one is a member of Christ’s mystical body by faith. And Suarez also includes catechumens, those being prepared for baptism, as members of the Church inasmuch as they have infused faith. And unlike many schismatics, they also have supernatural charity.

So, Calov and Suarez–with all of their obvious differences–raise some of the same questions about Bellarmine’s position. Like Suarez, Calov wants to include catechumens and the unjustly excommunicated. And this is because, in a way similar to Suarez, Calov says that “only the faithful properly pertain to the Church” (254). And it is worth noting that Calov is certainly aware of some of these ecclesiological disagreements among Roman Catholic theologians (259-60). In fact, he cites Bellarmine’s admission that some Catholics agree with Protestants on the point that those who have “no internal virtue [of faith, etc.] in no way pertain to the true Church” (258).

Now, Calov parts ways with Bellarmine and also with Suarez in his definition of the Church–and in rather profound ways. He is willing to use the term Church as referring to all those who retain true doctrine and use the sacraments (in a way that resonates a bit more with Bellarmine’s definition), things which are indeed “notes of the Church” (253). It is this broad sense of the term that the Augsburg Confession (1530) uses when–just before a condemnation of Donatism–it says the following:

Although the Church properly is the congregation of saints and true believers, nevertheless, since in this life many hypocrites and evil persons are mingled therewith, it is lawful to use Sacraments administered by evil men, according to the saying of Christ: The Scribes and the Pharisees sit in Moses’ seat, etc. Matt. 23:2. Both the Sacraments and Word are effectual by reason of the institution and commandment of Christ, notwithstanding they be administered by evil men.

But in a more proper sense, by Church is meant the flock of Christ. For Calov, it is this flock which receives all of the beautiful adjectives in Scripture. And in this Church in the proper sense, the openly wicked and impious are not included. Although the wicked may spend time in the Church, they are not “of the Church,” nor are they “members of the Church.” They only adhere to the Church as “rotten” or “dead members.” We have a case of the chaff mixing with the wheat, i.e., those who are truly faithful and “living members of the Church.” Thus, hypocrites, mentioned in the fundamental Lutheran Augsburg Confession, are “not properly in the assembly which is the Church.” (Incidentally, this position that the dead members–wicked professing Christians–are not true members resonates with another Roman Catholic view rejected by Suarez and Bellarmine, which sees those in mortal sin as merely parts of the Church, not members. But Calov seems to deny that they are even parts of the Church.)

Calov is quick to reject any accusation of Anabaptism, Donatism, or Pelagianism here. He is not requiring perfect holiness and quickly acknowledges that “all the saints are compelled to ask for the remission of sins.” And he is also not constructing a “twin Church”: one for the saints and the other that is mixed with sinners. How does Calov manage this? Properly speaking, the Church is the assembly of the faithful. While the faithful of course still struggle with (strictly speaking) sinful desires and do not perfectly fulfill the Law of God, they are rightly called holy because of Christ. As he puts it, “faith cannot exist without holiness and much less can holiness exist without faith” (254). In stark contrast with any (still widespread) antinomian reading of the Lutheran account of justification, Calov makes clear that true justifying faith is always followed by sanctification: “these terms [faithful and saints] are reciprocal.”

It is no surprise that the differences between Lutherans and Catholics on justification and their different ecclesiologies are related. Because, for Roman Catholics, true faith can be without charity (see Canon 28 of Trent’s decree on justification), open sinners who maintain true faith in God’s revealed Word can be seen as true members of the Church by many Catholic theologians. For Lutherans, it is of course essential that justification and sanctification be distinct. Nonetheless, sanctification must follow justification and love follows true, saving faith. As the Formula of Concord authoritatively puts it:

For not everything that belongs to conversion belongs likewise to the article of justification, in and to which belong and are necessary only the grace of God, the merit of Christ, and faith, which receives this in the promise of the Gospel, whereby the righteousness of Christ is imputed to us, whence we receive and have forgiveness of sins, reconciliation with God, sonship, and heirship of eternal life. Therefore true, saving faith is not in those who are without contrition and sorrow, and have a wicked purpose to remain and persevere in sins; but true contrition precedes, and genuine faith is in or with true repentance [justifying faith is in those who repent truly, not feignedly]. Love is also a fruit which surely and necessarily follows true faith. For the fact that one does not love is a sure indication that he is not justified, but is still in death, or has lost the righteousness of faith again, as John says, 1 John 3:14. But when Paul says, Rom. 3:28: We are justified by faith without works, he indicates thereby that neither the contrition that precedes, nor the works that follow, belong in the article or transaction of justification by faith. For good works do not precede justification, but follow it, and the person must first be justified before he can do good works. (emphasis added)

Of course, Suarez and Calov would agree that those without true love of God are not really justified. But Suarez thinks that some schismatics, excommunicated, and grave sinners have true faith. If they have supernatural faith, it comes through Christ, and they are thus members of His body and thus of the Church. As many Catholics after the Reformation put it, Christians in a state of mortal sin have true faith but not living faith. They don’t have faith that is formed and that works by charity. For Calov and orthodox Lutherans, true faith is living faith, and dead faith isn’t really faith at all. So, those without true, living, saving faith–the sort of faith which also leads to sanctification–are not members of the true Church at all.

Calov uses the images of the Church in Scripture to reinforce his point. The Church is the mystical body of Christ. He actually quotes Aquinas ‘s commentary on Romans 8, lectio 2, where Aquinas says with reference to verse 9, “if any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his”: “Just as it is not a member of a body which is not vivified through the spirit of that body, so he is not a member of Christ who does not have the Spirit of Christ.” And, to make the same point, Calov also refers to Hugh of St. Victor and one of the first Jesuits and a commentator on the Epistle to the Romans, Alfonso Salmeron (d. 1585). The Church, Calov continues, is not the mother of the dead but the living. The Church is a sheepfold of those who hear the voice of Christ.  The Church is the Bride of Christ. The Church is the house of the living God. The repentant Christian is included here, but none of these descriptions allow for the impious and the wicked, even if they have what Calov would see as a feigned faith.

But what about the images of the Church as net including living and rotten fish? Or the image of the Church as a field where there was found good seed and tares? He appears to approve the view of those who say that the impious and hypocrites are only in the Church like chaff on wheat; the wicked are merely clinging or hanging on to the true members of the Church. Even the more powerful and unifying image of the assembly as a body can accommodate the notion of these “hangers-on”. He pits the quite arresting words of another Jesuit, Franciscus Coster (d. 1619), against Bellarmine’s position: “Phlegm, pus, saliva, and the abundant blood of a living man are not its members nor its parts. Nonetheless, they are not outside the body. Thus are the impious referred to superfluous humors which, once they have matured, are discharged with the filth” (258 – emphasis added).

Of course, Calov rejects Bellarmine’s mention of the papacy in his definition of the Church. He treats this at length elsewhere, but the most interesting point he makes is that the Church must be defined not only in its proper sense but even in its representative character with reference to a multitude. The Church is the people of God and a kingdom. The promise of Christ to be in the midst of the Church is to two or more people having being congregated (Matthew 18:20).

I won’t treat Calov’s discussion of Calvinist ecclesiology at length, but his main concern is its way of defining the Church as pertaining only to the elect. We can’t get into the details of the disagreements between Lutherans and Calvinists about predestination. The key, though, is that Calov sees the definition of the Church in Scripture and the Apostle’s Creed as the communion of the faithful and the holy. For Calov as a Lutheran (in contrast with many Reformed theologians), one can have faith and holiness for a time and then be “cut off from the grace of God.” But for the period in which a person had true faith, that person was a true member of the Church.

I’ll conclude with Calov’s reflection on sanctity or holiness in his discussion of the attributes of the Church. Once again, he emphasizes the inseparability of the holiness of teaching and the holiness in the life of those who are justified and thus being sanctified (262). He continues:

For where there is true faith, there is sincere charity (Gal. 5:6). Nor can it happen that there is faith without good works, just as a body is not animated that does not have motion or sensation. [One] destitute of good works is consequently dead in sins (James 2, Ephesians 2 and 4). On the other hand, there cannot be any fruit without the tree (John 15, Matthew 8). But true doctrine is attributed to all members of the Church, at least as far as the principal foundations (capita fundamentalia) of faith which are necessary to believe unto salvation. Of the rest, just as the dissonance over fasting does not take away the consonance of faith, neither does a dissonance over some questions touching on the faith (circa fidem).

I think that we’ll turn soon to a discussion of what it means for the Church to be visible if, despite all of their disagreements, Suarez and Calov see the unjustly excommunicated, catechumens, etc., as members of the Church, while those who have are secret unbelievers or hypocrites (in that sense) are not members of the Church.