1. AS IN A MIRROR
JOHN CALVIN AND KARL BARTH
ON KNOWING GOD

2. STUDIES IN THE HISTORY
OF
CHRISTIAN TRADITIONS
FOUNDED BY HEIKO A. OBERMAN †
EDITED BY
ROBERT J. BAST, Knoxville, Tennessee
IN COOPERATION WITH
HENRY CHADWICK, Cambridge
SCOTT H. HENDRIX, Princeton, New Jersey
BRIAN TIERNEY, Ithaca, New York
ARJO VANDERJAGT, Groningen
JOHN VAN ENGEN, Notre Dame, Indiana
VOLUME CXX
CORNELIS VAN DER KOOI
AS IN A MIRROR
JOHN CALVIN AND KARL BARTH
ON KNOWING GOD

3. AS IN A MIRROR
JOHN CALVIN AND KARL BARTH
ON KNOWING GOD
A DIPTYCH
BY
CORNELIS VAN DER KOOI
TRANSLATED BY
DONALD MADER
BRILL
LEIDEN • BOSTON
2005

4. Cover illustration: detail from the Issenheim Altarpiece showing John the Baptist at the foot of
the Cross. © Musée d’Unterlinden – F 68000 Colmar. Photo: O. Zimmerman.
This book is printed on acid-free paper.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Kooi, Cornelis van der.
[Als in een spiegel]
As in a mirror : John Calvin and Karl Barth on knowing God : a diptych / by Cornelis
van der Kooi ; translated by Donald Mader.
p. cm. — (Studies in the history of Christian traditions, ISSN 1573-5664 ; v. 120)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 90-04-13817-X (hard ; alk. paper)
1. God—Knowableness—History of doctrines. 2. Calvin, Jean, 1509-1564—
Contributions in knowableness of God. 3. Barth, Karl, 1886-1968—Contributions in
knowableness of God. I. Title. II. Series.
BT98.K66 2005
231’.042’0922—dc22
2004057550
ISSN 1573-5664
ISBN 90 04 13817 X
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5. CONTENTS
Acknowledgements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xi
List of Abbreviations. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xiii
Chapter 1. Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1
1.1. Knowing God and the way of history . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1
1.2. Calvin and Barth . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3
1.3. Faith as knowing? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6
1.4. Bipolarity and conflict . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14
1.5. The mirror as an invitation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15
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Chapter 2. Ways of Knowing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21
2.1. Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21
2.1.1. Knowledge of God and piety . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21
2.1.2. Rootage in society . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30
2.1.3. Knowledge of God and conscience . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35
2.2. Accommodation. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41
2.2.1. Accommodation as the basic form of all
revelation. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41
2.2.2. Accommodation as the key concept in sacred
history . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48
2.2.3. Accommodation and language . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52
2.2.4. The metaphor of the mirror: knowledge as
imitation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57
2.3. Inward revelation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63
2.3.1. The soul as bridgehead: mental capacities . . . . . . . . . 63
2.3.2. Sensus divinitatis. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 70
2.3.3. Sensus conscientiae . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73
2.4. Manifestations in the external world . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75
2.4.1. Stirring the senses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75

6. vi contents
2.4.2. A splendid theatre . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77
2.4.3. Excursus: the discussion between Dowey and
Parker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 85
2.5. Appreciation of culture . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87
2.6. Scripture as accommodation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89
2.7. Knowledge of God as result of Word and Spirit. . . . . . . . . . . . 95
2.8. Faith . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 104
2.8.1. A qualified concept of faith . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 104
2.8.2. Unio mystica . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 106
2.8.3. Faith and certainty . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 108
2.9. The limits and benefit of knowledge of God . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 115
Chapter 3. God: Judge and Father. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117
3.1. Utility and the doctrine of God . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117
3.2. The anti-speculative tenor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121
3.3. Partial knowability . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 124
3.4. Unceasing activity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127
3.5. Core concepts: loving-kindness, judgement and
righteousness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 130
3.6. Lord of the world: God’s care and goodness in the order
of the world . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 132
3.7. The judgement of the judge and the discipline of the
father . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136
3.8. The absurdity of life . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 138
3.9. The anchor of God’s unchanging will. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 143
3.10. Predestination and responsibility . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 148
3.11. Father and Lord: love and fear . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 151
3.12. Knowing in faith, in bits and pieces: predestination. . . . . . . . 158
3.12.1. A center or the core? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 158
3.12.2. Handling of the doctrine of predestination . . . . . . . . . 167
3.12.3. The benefit of the knowledge of predestination . . . . 170
3.12.4. God’s will as the farthest horizon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 174
3.12.5. God as absolute power? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 176
3.12.6. Excursus: potentia absoluta et ordinata. A brief
historical overview . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 177
3.12.7. Where faith must look .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 184
3.13. Once again: God as father. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 185

7. contents vii
Chapter 4. The Supper and Knowledge of God . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 189
4.1. Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 189
4.2. What is a sacrament? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 195
4.2.1. Only a cognitive advantage? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 195
4.2.2. Sign and thing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 199
4.3. Sacrament as a form of accommodation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 200
4.4. The meaning of the meal . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 202
4.4.1. The family . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 202
4.4.2. The body of Christ after Ascension. The
discussion with the Lutherans . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 204
4.4.3. Flesh and blood . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 208
4.5. The Holy Spirit and instrumentality . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 213
4.5.1. The Supper as instrument . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 213
4.5.2. The incomprehensibility of the work of the Spirit . 216
4.5.3. The way of knowledge of God . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 218
4.5.4. Experience and tasting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 219
the hinge
Chapter 5. The Turn to the Subject in Kant’s Philosophy . . . . . . . . . 225
5.1. A watershed . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 225
5.2. The tradition-critical attitude.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 228
5.3. For the sake of humanity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 230
5.4. The turn to the subject . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 233
5.5. The conditions of knowing. Metaphysics as
methodological investigation into the conditions of
knowing. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 236
5.6. Knowledge as human construction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 238
5.7. The limitation of metaphysics and the place of faith in
God . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 241
5.8. After Kant . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 246
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Chapter 6. The Way of Knowing God . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 251
6.1. Introduction: theology and society . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 251
6.2. ‘Not without audacity’: the primacy of revelation . . . . . . . . . . 258
6.3. Human knowing of God as theological datum . . . . . . . . . . . . . 262

8. viii contents
6.4. Knowledge of God as event . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 263
6.5. Knowledge of God as participation in God’s
self-knowledge . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265
6.6. God as the object of knowledge . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 266
6.7. Faith as a form of knowledge . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 268
6.8. The place of the human subject . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 268
6.9. Mediation and sacramentality . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 271
6.10. The way of knowing God. Between mystery and truth . . . . 274
6.11. A look back. From impossibility to reality . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 278
6.12. Dogmatics as a grammar for speaking about God? . . . . . . . . 281
6.13. Human capacities and knowledge of God: the heritage
of Marburg . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 289
6.14. The reality of knowledge of God. The analogia fidei . . . . . . 293
6.15. Faith and certainty . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 308
6.16. Natural theology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 311
Chapter 7. The Doctrine of God . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 317
7.1. Knowledge of God as knowledge of God’s being. The
anti-agnostic thrust of a theological decision . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 317
7.2. God’s reality: being and act . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 322
7.3. Love. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 324
7.4. Freedom . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 326
7.5. Multiplicity and unity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 329
7.6. Revelation as self-revelation? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 329
7.7. Two series . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 335
7.8. The perfections of God’s love . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 337
7.8.1. Grace and holiness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 337
7.8.2. Mercy and righteousness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 339
7.8.3. Patience and wisdom . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 345
7.9. The perfections of God’s freedom . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 348
7.9.1. Unity and omnipresence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 348
7.9.2. Constancy and omnipotence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 353
7.9.3. Eternity and glory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 358
7.10. Election as a component of the doctrine of God . . . . . . . . . . . 363
7.11. Election as the basic decision of God . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 365
7.12. Election as the core issue . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 368
7.13. The decretum concretum. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 371
7.14. The critique of Calvin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 381
7.15. Eternity, time and God’s acting today. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 384

9. contents ix
Chapter 8. New Space for Human Action: Barth’s View of the
Sacrament . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 387
8.1. Doctrine of baptism as mirror . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 387
8.2. Developments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 392
8.2.1. Regard for the humanity of Jesus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 392
8.2.2. The one sacrament . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 393
8.2.3. The living Christ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 395
8.2.4. The assistance of the Enlightenment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 397
8.3. Baptism with the Spirit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 398
8.4. Baptism with water. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 404
8.5. Directness. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 405
8.6. Baptism with water as answer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 407
8.7. The norm for humanity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 411
8.8. The meaning of the term ‘noetic’ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 412
evaluation
Chapter 9. Profit and Loss . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 417
9.1. Christian theology as a counterproposal . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 417
9.2. Knowledge of God and theology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 419
9.3. From cosmological rootage to self-sufficiency. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 426
9.4. The systematic function of the concept of revelation:
guarantee for knowledge of God . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 428
9.5. The place of the faculties of knowing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 430
9.6. The theological element . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 433
9.7. Word and Spirit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 435
9.8. Lights, lamps and their fuel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 438
9.9. The content of knowledge of God: saving proximity . . . . . . . 442
9.10. The role of man in knowing God . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 446
9.11. Sacrament: the same thing, in a different way . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 450
9.12. As in a mirror… . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 453
Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 455
Index of Names . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 467
Index of Terms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 473

11. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The first impetus for this study came quite a time ago. It began when
Dr. H.J. Adriaanse, the co-supervisor for my doctoral studies at Leiden,
invited me to think again of a sequel to my dissertation. This resulted in
a plan to expand the field of research to the later Barth and to Calvin,
under the title ‘Knowledge of God as Mystery’. On the recommenda-
tion of Dr. H.A. Oberman I was able to realise an unforgettable term
of study at the Institute for the Humanities at the University of Wiscon-
sin, Madison, WI, USA. Meeting W.J. Courtenay, D.C. Lindberg and
R.M. Kingdon provided me with access to American research on the
background and social context for Calvin which unmistakably left its
mark on this book. In Amsterdam, at the Vrije Universiteit, I was able
to continue the project next to all my other work. I would mention sev-
eral persons here by name who read the manuscript in whole or in part,
in that way playing a significant role in this book coming into being.
The friendship and regular exchanges with René van Woudenberg, in
particular with regard to the epistemology of the hinge section deal-
ing with Kant, was of particularly great value to me. The sections of
the manuscript on dogmatics were read by and discussed with Aad van
Egmond and Dirk van Keulen. I would further mention here Maarten
Aalders, and the conversations with Georg Plasger on Barth interpreta-
tion. It was an enormous support for me to have Dr. C. Augustijn and
Dr. H.A. Oberman both read the section on Calvin and provide me
with their critique of it. That the latter passed away before he could
see the completion of this book saddens me greatly. His reactions were
more than heartening.
A fragment of the Isenheim altarpiece by Mathias Grünewald is
depicted on the cover. A reproduction of this altarpiece hung over
Barth’s desk. The figure of John the Baptist pointing to the crucified
Christ was for Barth a metaphor for the limited service that theology
can perform. Theology points to the matter that is really paramount; it
does nothing more, and if it does well, nothing less.

12. xii acknowledgements
The translation was made possible in part by support from the
Netherlands Organisation for Scientific Research and the Bastiaan
Haack Kunneman Foundation of the Free University.

13. LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS
Anfänge I Anfänge der dialektischen Theologie. Teil I: Karl Barth,
Heinrich Barth, Emil Brunner, hrsg. von J. Moltmann,
München 19774.
CCLS Corpus Christianorum. Series Latina, Turnholti
1953 e.v.
CD K. Barth, Church Dogmatics, 4 Volumes, 13 Parts,
CO Ioannis Calvini Opera quae supersunt omnia, ed.
W. Baum, E. Cunitz et W. Reuss, Brunsvigae 1863–
1900.
EB Evangelische Bekenntnisse. Bekenntnisschriften der
Reformatoren und neuere Theologische Erklärungen in
zwei Bände, Bielefeld 1997.
KD K. Barth, Die Kirchliche Dogmatik, München 1932-
Zürich 1967; ET: Church Dogmatics, Edinburgh 1975.
OS Opera Selecta, Ed. P. Barth/W. Niesel, München 1926–
1936.
PG Patrologia Graeca Cursus Completus. Ed. J.-P. Migne,
Paris 1857–1866.
PL Patrologia Latina Cursus Completus. Ed. J.-P. Migne,
Paris 1844–1855.
Römerbrief 1 K. Barth, Der Römerbrief, (Erste Fassung) 1919 (hrsg.
von H. Schmidt), Zürich 19853.
Römerbrief 2 K. Barth, Der Römerbrief, 2. Auflage, (München
1922=) Zürich 197611; ET: The Epistle to the Romans,
tr. by Edwin C. Hoskyns, London/Oxford/New York
1968.
STh Sancti Thomae de Aquino Summa Theologiae, Roma
1962.
WA D. Martin Luthers Werke. Kritische Gesamtausgabe,
Weimar 1883 e.v.
ZdTh Zeitschrift für dialektische Theologie

15. chapter one
INTRODUCTION
1.1. Knowing God and the way of history
‘What is the primary goal of human life? That we know God’.1 This
opening sentence of the Geneva Catechism does not represent merely
an age-old vision of human life, but also refers to the mystery that to
this very day is interwoven with Christian belief and is the foundation
for all Christian theology: living has something to do with knowing
God. In our time the answer may appear in other forms, with more
emphasis on being human and humanity, but it has remained like a
hidden magnet under various theological themes. It is however pre-
cisely this answer that has become a problem for present generations,
under the influence of a culture that is embarrassed about or even
rejects belief in God. What does it really mean to know God? Can we
indeed know God? Where does such knowledge have its foundations,
what nourishes it, and what is it that is ultimately known? And if there
is something like knowledge of God, what does it have to do with being
human, with life, with our actions? These are substantive theological
questions which belong to the field of reflection on Christian dogma.
The direction that this study will go in reflecting on these questions is
that of theological history, or historical theology. Theological history (or
historical theology) will be used to treat questions in the field of Chris-
tian dogmatics. In the light of advancing differentiation between sys-
tematic and historical disciplines, this is anything but an obvious choice.
On the basis of the experience that such an approach very easily fails
to do justice to at least one of the two—or even both—elements, pro-
ceeding this way can ever generate suspicion. At the same time it must
be said that dogmatic reflection is impossible without involving its own
1 CO 6, 9–10: ‘Quelle est la principale Fin de la vie humaine?’ L’enfant: ‘C’est de
cognoistre Dieu’. The Latin version has a somewhat expanded answer: ‘ut Deum, a
quo conditi sunt homines, ipsi noverint.’ Cf. also the Instruction et confession de Foy (1537),
OS I, 378.

16. 2 chapter one
particular situation in the reflection. That is to say, the reflection cannot
be separated from the Church—and in this case we of course mean the
Church in its ecumenical sense, namely as the community of faith in all
times and places. If dogmatics can be regarded as the orderly reflection
on the content of Christian knowledge of God,2 then its interrelation-
ship with the Church as an historically defined entity is indispensable.
That perhaps sounds like a curtailment, as if the message of Christian
faith does not extend to all the world and to all mankind. Our situ-
ating of the question is anything but intended to place a limit on the
public domain of Christian theology. It is indeed necessary however to
recognise that Christian belief does come from somewhere, and points
back to events in history and continues to bear their stamp.3 That in
Protestant tradition the Bible, as the Word of God, is regarded as the
primary and decisive source of Christian theology, is something which
will not be disputed in the following theological-historical arrangement.
It is nevertheless important to realise that access to and dealing with
this source is not something that is independent of debates which were
carried on in the past, and just as little from debates that are ongoing
with contemporary culture. Expressed in the language of dogmatic the-
ology, with these questions we move within the sphere of the doctrine
or the Holy Spirit, or pneumatology. The organisation of this study
includes an explicit acknowledgement that in our thinking and speak-
ing we have been in part shaped and marked by preceding generations,
and that with an eye to current theological reflection it is worth the
effort to grapple seriously with what previous generations have thought,
experienced and felt in their encounters with the subject that lies before
us: knowing God.
2 Thus in principle the whole of the content of dogmatics can be included within
the definition of knowledge. God is really the most comprehensive object of Christian
religious knowledge, and thus also of theology. See for instance H. Bavinck, Gereformeerde
Dogmatiek II, Kampen 19082, 2 and W. Pannenberg, Systematische Theologie Bd. I, Göttin-
gen 1988, 14–15; ET, Systematic Theology, Volume I, Grand Rapids/Edinburgh 1992, 4–5.
3 The choice of the Church as the primary reference point is intended both theolog-
ically and sociologically. This is anything but a denial that alongside it there are audi-
ences of other sorts which can be distinguished, namely society at large and academia.
I merely want to underscore that Christian theology and what it has to say about God
assumes both an historical and a contemporary community. For the distinction of the
three forms of audience, see D. Tracy, The analogical Imagination. Christian Theology and the
Culture of Pluralism, New York 1993, 6–31.

17. introduction 3
1.2. Calvin and Barth
This study limits itself to two theologians who each has assumed a rep-
resentative place in Reformed Protestantism: John Calvin (1509–1564)
and Karl Barth (1886–1968). It can justly be said of both that they made
their choices and presented their vision of human knowledge of God in
an independent manner and in entirely different intellectual climates.
This book therefore consists of two parts or panels which, connected by
a hinge, together form a diptych. In the first panel a sketch is given of
Calvin’s vision of human knowledge of God. How does man arrive at
knowledge of God, what invites him to faith and how does this knowl-
edge relate to other forms of knowledge and experience? The question
about the way in which knowledge of God is acquired can not how-
ever be separated from the substantive question of what is known of
God. Epistemological questions are connected with the material which
constitutes the theological content. What does man really know about
God and himself ? What can he hope for, what guides his life in the
world, his fears and desires? Arising from the same questions, a sketch
of Barth’s concept of knowing God appears in the second panel. Karl
Barth’s theology, since the appearance of his dogmatic work unjustly
termed ‘neo-orthodoxy’,4 fully bears the marks of the post-Kantian sit-
uation. Barth lived and worked in a culture and intellectual climate that
stood in the shadow of the Enlightenment. He was part of that intellec-
4 In this compound ‘orthodoxy’ is viewed as the position that the truth of God
methodically permits itself to be immediately and uninterruptedly present in words and
dogmatic concepts—thus knowledge of God is knowledge of eternal truths, authori-
tatively proclaimed. Originally the term primarily carried the negative connotation of
authoritarian belief. See for instance the reaction by P. Wernle to the first edition of
the Epistle to the Romans: ‘Der Römerbrief in neuer Beleuchtung’ in: Kirchenblatt für die
reformierte Schweiz 34 (1919), 163 and Barth’s response to that in the Foreword to the
revised edition Der Römerbrief (Zweite Fassung) (München 1922=) Zürich 197611,VI: ‘…
das Schreckgespenst einer neuen Orthodoxie …’ (ET: The Epistle to the Romans, trans-
lated by Edwyn C. Hoskyns, London/Oxford/New York 1968, 3: ‘the appearence of
the horrible spectre of a new orthodoxy’). Cf. also Die christliche Dogmatik im Entwurf
(1927), hrsg. von G. Sauter, Zürich 1982, 7 en KD I/1, IX; ET: Church Dogmatics
I/1, XIV. For the reception in the Anglo-Saxon context, see Bruce L. McCormack,
Karl Barth’s Critically Realistic Dialectical Theology. Its Genesis and Development 1909–1936,
Oxford 1997, 24–26. See also the reference there to F. Kattenbusch, Die deutsche evange-
lische Theologie seit Schleiermacher II, Gießen 1934, 46. The association of Barth’s theology
with repristination and imposed authority received no small impetus from Bonhoeffer’s
memorable assessment of Barth’s theology as a form of revelation positivism (letter of
May 5, 1944).

18. 4 chapter one
tual climate, where the possibility and desirability of believing in God
was doubted, or forcefully denied.
The arrangement followed has implications for the manner in which
the context is discussed. Put differently, the manner in which theologi-
cal history is handled has considerable limitations. Tracing the factors
which went into the development of their ideas, seeking out sources and
striking differences from contemporaries, or the course of their own
development is not the intention of this study. Because of the structure
of the study the reader can for a moment get the impression that Calvin
and Barth were two solitary figures who arrived at their positions sui
generis. I emphasise that this is not my intention. Contemporary theo-
logical research makes it clear again and again that Calvin and Barth
were both connected with their contemporaries within a fine-meshed
net of existing concepts and forms of exegesis. Where it was possible, I
have made use of studies that focus on the narrower context, on a detail
of the panel, but in general it is the larger field that is of interest in this
book. The idea of context is thus understood broadly, in the sense of the
cultural climate, the whole of the positions and attitudes that permeate
the way we deal with the world, ourselves and God. An awareness of
the context is of great importance in dogmatic reflection. A direct com-
parison between Calvin and Barth is therefore not the intention, and
the annexation of the one for the other even less so.5 Consideration of
their concepts of knowledge of God takes place precisely in the con-
sciousness of their presumptive otherness and strangeness, while the
otherness is not so absolute as to exclude the possibility of a fruitful
comparison. I have tried to do justice to both. The step that has to be
taken within dogmatics is the question of what a concept contributes to
the particular reflection at hand.
The two panels are connected by a hinge. The hinge is formed by
the epistemological critique of the Enlightenment, culminating in the
thought of Immanuel Kant. The choice for Kantian epistemological
critique as the hinge is not intended to suggest that Barth is responding
to Kant in any direct sense. What I do wish to express by this is that
Calvin and Barth each lived in a very particular time, separated by the
time we call the Enlightenment. Calvin is portrayed as a pre-modern
5 See the irate response of R.A. Muller, The Unaccommodated Calvin. Studies in the
Foundation of a Theological Tradition, New York/Oxford 2000, 187 and idem, After Calvin.
Studies in the Development of a Theological Tradition, Oxford 2003, 63–102.

19. introduction 5
thinker,6 and Barth as someone who completely shares in the problems
of modernity.7 The focus on Kant’s epistemological critique functions
as a means to briefly describe the changed constellation of theology
after Kant.
The intention of this book implies that I will not limit myself purely
to observations and assembling data. In the discussion of the two pan-
els the difference in the configuration of the various elements will nec-
essarily be dealt with. There are shifts in the role taken by man and
in the manner in which God is portrayed. As a viewer of the pan-
els, one immediately forms judgements, and the judgement thus does
not remain neutral. There is profit booked, but also losses. The criti-
cal glance is not only cast backwards toward Calvin, but also forwards,
toward Barth. Contemporary theology may be closer in time to Barth
than to Calvin, but that does not eliminate the possibility that there is
something to be learned from essential components in Calvin, some-
thing which has been lost in the more modern panel. Thus material is
brought together for an individual answer to the questions of what it is
6 With this general characterisation of Calvin’s context I am implicitly taking a
position opposed to those classifications which seek to all too easily situate Calvin, or
more broadly, the Reformation, as early-modern, and thereby as a sort of overture for
modernism. The collective religious and cultural characteristics of what historiography
with good reason distinguishes as the Middle Ages, Renaissance, Biblical humanism
and Reformation are so decisive in comparison to the Enlightenment and modernity
which flowed from it, that the term pre-modern is fully justified. This leaves intact
the value and necessity of Calvin research differentiating within this wider context. For
this tendency within current research see particularly the book by R.A. Muller already
mentioned, The Unaccommodated Calvin.
7 Quite intentionally this characterisation leaves aside the approaches to Barth as
a critic of modernism (for instance K.G. Steck, ‘Karl Barths Absage an die Neuzeit’
in: K.G. Steck/D. Schellong, Karl Barth und die Neuzeit, München 1973, 7–33), as an
exponent of modernism (D. Schellong, ‘Karl Barth als Theologe der Neuzeit’, ibidem,
34–102; T. Rendtorff, ‘Radikale Autonomie Gottes. Zum Verständnis der Theologie
Karl Barths und ihre Folgen’ in: idem, Theorie des Christentums. Historisch-theologische Studien
zu seiner neuzeitlichen Verfassung, Gütersloh 1972, 161–181) or of anti-modern modernism
(G. Pfleiderer, Karl Barths praktische Theologie. Zu Genese und Kontext eines paradigmatischen
Entwurfs systematischer Theologie im 20. Jahrhundert, Tübingen 2000, 25), or as post-modern
(G. Ward, Barth, Derrida and the Language of Theology, Cambridge 1995; idem, ‘Barth,
Modernity and Postmodernity’ in: J. Webster [ed.], The Cambridge Companion to Karl
Barth, Cambridge 2000, 274–295; William. S. Johnson, The Mystery of God. Karl Barth
and te Postmodern Foundations of Theology, Louisville 1997; L. Karelse, Dwalen. Over Mark
C. Taylor en Karl Barth, Zoetermeer 1999). Barth has a very nuanced attitude toward
modernism, in which it is difficult to bring the elements of continuity and discontinuity
together under one term. For a well-considered balance, see D. Korsch ‘Theologie in
der Postmoderne. Der Beitrag Karl Barths’ in: idem, Dialektische Theologie nach Karl Barth,
Tübingen 1996, 74–92.

20. 6 chapter one
to know God, where this knowledge comes from, what is to be hoped
for, and what place we are invited to take.
The procedure is that in both panels there is first a general outline
sketched of what contemporary dogmatics would call the doctrine of
revelation (Chapters 2 and 6). Here one begins to see what the way or
ways are by which man can obtain knowledge of God. This is followed
in each panel by two chapters in which several substantive themes are
discussed. For both Calvin and Barth several subjects from the doctrine
of God and the doctrine of the sacraments are successively taken up for
examination (Chapters 3, 4, 7 and 8). The choice of using the doctrines
of God and the sacraments as the basis for sketching the content of
the theology in both cases is dictated by the hypothesis that these are
the themes which are pre-eminently suited to serve as mirrors of the
theological concept as a whole. After all, in the doctrine of God one
finds reflection on the question of who it is that man is dealing with
in faith. There lie the roots of any answer to questions about salvation.
The themes of providence and election are taken up within this context.
I consider the doctrine of the sacraments to be significant because it
is in this field that it becomes clear in a concentrated way how man
arrives at knowledge of God, what he perceives of God’s salvation, and
what position he takes with respect to God as an acting person. For
Calvin this is focused on his view of the Supper, for Barth on what he
left behind of his fragment on baptism as KD IV/4. As this different
choice in rounding off the panels already shows, I have not chosen to
maintain a strict symmetry between the two panels, nor is this strictly
necessary. Rather, it can be defended that the portion of the doctrine
of the sacraments in each panel permits itself to be read as a pregnant
summary of the whole vision of the content of any way to knowledge
of God. Moreover, it appears to be precisely the view of baptism and
the Supper that is suitable for catching sight of the division of roles
between God and man. In addition, in the case of Barth it makes clear
just how much his view on the place of man as a subject in the God-
man relationship evolved.
1.3. Faith as knowing?
Proposing to study Calvin and Barth’s theology from the perspective
of human knowledge of God is anything but an obvious choice in the
present cultural climate. Can faith in fact be characterised as a form of

21. introduction 7
knowing? Doesn’t theology have a lot of explaining to do in that case?
Indeed, upon hearing the word ‘knowledge’, many in Western cultural
circles would think first of scientific knowledge. The term knowledge
is in that case reserved for knowledge that derives its claim to truth
from some form of argumentation from the natural sciences. Only
that knowledge which fulfils a limited number of criteria from physical
sciences is justified.8 In terms of this approach, knowledge of God falls
out of the boat, because there is no epistemological guarantee that can
be given for it.
Even if one is of the opinion that the concept of knowledge must be
taken more broadly than just knowledge in the physical sciences, it is
still clear that the concept of knowledge of God can easily be misunder-
stood intellectually or scientifically. Under the influence of intellectual
associations, the concept of knowledge of God as a description of the
relation between man and God was pushed to the margins and has
undergone an enormous reduction. That was not just a phenomenon
of this century. About a century ago the mystic ring of the concept of
knowing God was again brought to the fore when Abraham Kuyper
translated cognito dei into Dutch as kennisse Gods (which can be under-
stood as mystical ‘knowledge from God’ as well as ‘knowledge of God’)
instead of simply godskennis (knowledge of God).9 Since the advance of
science and technology, knowledge has generally been associated with
instrumental knowledge and scientific knowledge. This sort of knowl-
edge attempts to make phenomena as clear as possible and to come to
grips with them by means of theory and experimentation. Thanks to
instrumental knowledge modern society is able to produce a massive
flood of goods and thus to realise a standard of welfare for at least a
segment of humanity the like of which has never been seen in world
history. This development however has its darker side. Through this
shift to an instrumental conception of knowledge the content of what
8 Without going into the matter further, following the philosopher Alvin Plantinga
one can term this approach to the guarantee of human knowledge classic foundational
thinking. See A. Plantinga ‘Reason and Belief in God’ in: A. Plantinga/N. Wolterstorff,
Faith and Rationality. Reason and Belief in God, Notre Dame/London 1983, 16–93 and the
broad exposition of the project of his epistemology in the trilogy Warrant and Proper
Function, New York/Oxford 1993, Warrant: The current Debate, New York/Oxford 1993
and Warranted Christian Belief, New York/Oxford 2000.
9 A. Kuyper, Encyclopaedie der heilige Godgeleerdheid, Deel 2. Algemeen deel, Kampen 19092,
193e.v. In the same line H. Bavinck, Gereformeerde Dogmatiek I, Kampen 19062, 11, 15;
ET: Reformed Dogmatics, Vol. I: Prolegomena (ed. by John Bolt, translated by John Vriend),
Grand Rapids 2003, 38–42.

22. 8 chapter one
it meant to know has been reduced, and the broader meaning that the
concept of knowledge of God traditionally encompassed now must be
expressed by means of other words.
Distinguished from scientific and instrumental knowledge, there is
also a broader concept of knowing that is possible, one which has its
foundations in the world of experience. According to this epistemology
it is defensible to begin with the multiplicity of sensory and intellectual
capacities. If our faculties are functioning well they produce trustworthy
knowledge. In addition to sense perception we possess memory, we
accept the witness of others, we know the difference between good
and bad, beautiful and ugly, truth and falsity. In short, in practice
we live with all sorts of knowledge that is the product of capacities
and that we accept in an immediate way, that is to say, without the
intervention of reasoning.10 The experience of the light of the autumn
sun on a hedgerow, the first notes of Mozart’s ‘Requiem’, the warmth
of the spring sun on your forehead, the smell of lavender, the taste
of fresh bread, an intensely experienced memory, a strong feeling of
indignation, the testimony of others: all these are examples of primary
experience and forms of knowing that do not fall into the category of
scientific knowledge, but none the less produce knowledge of a sort that
in practice we accept to be trustworthy. Knowing in this primary sense
is being in contact with, spoken to by, conditioned by, in the presence
of, involved with: in other words, relationally defined in a wide sense.
This knowing is a form of contact in which the person who knows first
is receptive, and then receives and experiences that which transpires.
This sort of knowing also has conceptual and propositional implications
and can become the object of reflection; but all these operations are an
abstraction of what presents itself in experience. What is experienced is
more than can be comprehended in words or reflection about it. We
could call it a form of relational knowing, in which the person does not
so much become master of the thing known, but is addressed by and
becomes conditioned by it. It is to be emphatically distinguished from
knowledge which has the sole purpose of the transfer of information,
or control.11 In both Calvin and Barth the concept of knowing God
10 See R. van Woudenberg, ‘Plantinga’s externalisme: waarborg door het naar beho-
ren functioneren van kenvermogens’ in: R. van Woudenberg/B. Cusveller, De kentheorie
van Alvin Plantinga, Zoetermeer 1998, 67–82; ET: ‘The Assurance of Faith: A Theme
in Reformed Dogmatics in Light of Alvin Plantinga’s Epistemology’, Neue Zeitschrift für
Systematische Theologie 40 (1998), 77–92.
11 See C. van der Kooi, ‘Kennis van belang. Wetenschapsbeoefening in het licht van

23. introduction 9
is ultimately connected with notions of this sort. In knowing God
the person who knows is taken up into a relationship, defined by the
proximity of God.
It should not be surprising that in contemporary theology there has
been an attempt to replace the concept of knowing God with words
and concepts which lack the intellectual and scientific associations this
has assumed, and which therefore appear to fit better with the pecu-
liar character of knowledge in faith. An orientation to the situation
of dialogue and the personal encounter has been characteristic of the
manner in which revelation and the knowledge acquired through it
have been approached over the last century. In theology influenced
by Barth the object of knowledge of God is formulated in terms of
revelation, Word and being addressed by God in his Word. In some
cases, such as E. Brunner and H. Berkhof, the knowledge in faith is
explicitly formulated as knowledge which arises from encounter.12 For
E. Jüngel God is the mystery which reveals itself in the history of Jesus
Christ. Through this the story, and the narrativity which is connected
with it, becomes the theological category par excellence for thinking
about God and His coming.13 In Roman Catholic theology God is often
spoken of as the hidden perspective that one discovers if one begins
with the whole broad range of fundamental human experiences, the
open places in human existence, and through surprise and amazement
comes out at faith in God, precipitated in myths and stories. The word
‘God’ becomes a meaningful word when people dare to let themselves
be touched by these experiences, which are nothing less than traces
of God and themselves lead to the way to God.14 Among thinkers of
Protestant background this broad approach generally takes the form of
the question of meaning as the context for the question of God,15 or,
christelijke geloofskennis’ in: J.P. Verhoogt, S. Griffioen en R. Fernhout (red.), Vinden en
zoeken. Het bijzondere van de Vrije Universiteit, Kampen 1997, 98–116.
12 H. Berkhof, Christelijk Geloof. Een inleiding tot de geloofsleer, Nijkerk 19937, 29; ET:
Christian Faith. An Introduction to the Study of the Faith, Grand Rapids 1979, 30 for instance,
is characteristic.
13 E. Jüngel, Gott als Geheimnis der Welt. Zur Begründung der Theologie des Gekreuzigten im
Streit zwischen Theismus und Atheismus, Tübingen 1977; ET: God as the Mystery of the World.
On the Foundation of the Thology of the Crucified One in the Dispute between Theism and Atheism,
Edinburgh 1983.
14 A. Houtepen, God, een open vraag. Theologische perspectieven in een cultuur van agnosme,
Zoetermeer 1997, 330; ET: God: An Open Question, London/New York 2002, 85–108,
258. E. Schillebeeckx, Mensen als verhaal van God, Baarn 1989.
15 See for example W. Stoker, Is vragen naar zin vragen naar God? Een godsdienstwijsgerige

24. 10 chapter one
as in Adriaanse, the question of God becomes a perspective which in
the act of thinking steadily recedes further without however disappear-
ing. The continuing fruitfulness and blessing of faith in God for life is
thereby acknowledged, while at the same time it becomes abundantly
clear that the notion of knowledge is profoundly problematised.16 Unde-
niably these approaches offer a subtle tool for catching sight of that
which is peculiar to faith, within a context in which religious knowl-
edge is no longer rooted in the generally accepted metaphysics of being.
What contemporary, Western theology has in common is that over a
broad line it has undergone a hermeneutic change of course, or, in the
case of Karl Barth, even himself was instrumental in inaugurating that
development.17 As we have already said, according to this change of
course faith, knowing of God, still can be best compared with the sit-
uation of a conversation in which two partners encounter one another,
learn to know each other personally. The assumption that revelation
can be reduced to a dialogue continues to make itself felt, even though
the conversation takes place via a text, through an experience which
has become a story.18 The believer is the hearer of the Word. The sense
which dominates the paradigm of the conversation is therefore hearing,
and the content of the divine Word is defined as self-revelation. One
can ask if this image of a conversation is not all too barren. Particularly
in the literature by Calvin, as we shall see, we are reminded that in the
way to faith all the senses are brought into play, and that knowledge
of God can be acquired through more senses than one. Moreover, one
becomes aware of how modern, limited and perhaps also damaging it
is when in contemporary theology the concept of self-revelation serves
as the only adequate correlate for Christian knowledge of God.
studie over godsdienstige zingeving in haar verhouding tot seculiere zingeving, Zoetermeer 1993; ET:
Is the Quest for Meaning the Quest for God? The Religious Ascription of Meaning in Relation to the
Secular Ascription of Meaning. A Theological Study, Amsterdam 1996.
16 H.J. Adriaanse, Vom Christentum aus. Aufsätze und Vorträge zur Religionsphilosophie,
Kampen 1995, 44, 261, 300. See also H.J. Adriaanse, H.A. Krop, L. Leertouwer, Het
verschijnsel theologie. Over de wetenschappelijke status van de theologie, Meppel/Amsterdam 1987.
17 Karl Barth, Der Römerbrief (Erste Fassung) 1919, Hrsg. v. H. Schmidt, Zürich 1985, 3:
‘Geschichtsverständnis ist ein fortgesetztes, immer aufrichtigeres und eindringenderes
Gespräch zwischen der Weisheit von gestern und der Weisheit von morgen, die eine
und dieselbe ist.’ Cf. also Der Römerbrief (Zweite Fassung), (München 1922=), XI: ‘… bis
das Gespräch zwischen Urkunde und Leser ganz auf die Sache … konzentriert ist.’
(ET, 7)
18 See W. Stoker/H.M. Vroom, Verhulde waarheid. Over het begrijpen van religieuze teksten,
Meinema 2000, 34–51, 86–105.

25. introduction 11
The foregoing is not intended to suggest an intellectualistic concep-
tion of faith. However, the caricature repeatedly arises that knowledge
in faith could be resolved into a number of revealed truths or could
be derived from the highest principle. Now, faith indeed has content
which one can also try to express in propositions. It exists precisely in
the consciousness that God has acted and spoken in contingent histor-
ical acts and experiences. It is knowledge that refers to the history of
Israel and Jesus Christ as the history in which God has spoken in words
and deeds, has addressed man, and through His acting has accom-
plished salvation.19 That God in all this also makes Himself known and
does not withhold Himself is the deepest and most unabandonable core
of belief, which is to be heard in the modern definition of revelation
as self-revelation. To what extent the latter concept is pure profit or
may also involve a loss, will be a topic for discussion in the succeeding
chapters.
The contingent experiences of God’s dealings are passed on through
human testimonies and in this way have defined a community, are
assimilated there, and in turn passed on within varying situations. Pre-
cisely these varying situations, the debate over God’s acts and speak-
ing within the Christian community, and its debate with culture have
assured that Christian doctrine would be created. In the process of testi-
fying, retelling, actualising and referring to plausibility there arose what
we term tradition, a paradosis, was given form in a rite and a cultus,
and Christian doctrine took shape as a meta-language in the practice
of faith. In other words, it is impossible to imagine a situation where the
involvement and activity of the knowing subject is not at both the level
of lived faith, testimony and the cultus, and also at the level of reflection
about faith.
Particularly the latter, the conviction that the human subject plays an
active and constitutive role in knowledge of God and, with that, also in
confession and doctrine, is both broadly accepted in our post-Kantian
culture and to a great extent defines the problem. It raises the question
of the status of dogmatic pronouncements, and in modern theological
history has led to constant scepticism regarding purported objectivism
19 Cf. N. Wolterstorff, Divine Discourse. Philosophical reflections on the claim that God speaks,
Cambridge 1995, who opposes the identification of God’s speaking and revelation,
and with the aid of J.L. Austin’s theory of language acts defends the possibility of
interpreting the Bible in a coherent manner as the speaking of God.

26. 12 chapter one
in dogmatics.20 The increasing scientific monopoly on the concept of
knowledge and the wide acknowledgement of the role of the human
subject in the acquisition of knowledge went hand in hand, so that in
general the question about the status of religious language, and in par-
ticular that of metaphor,21 became a focus of interest. People do not use
language only for their dealings with the world. They also use earthly
means in order to express that which transcends the earthly. Can that
which is said in religious language and concepts still be characterised
as knowledge? Can this claim be made? Or, all things considered, is
all belief and all theology a human product, an entity of convictions,
stories, norms, values and rules that as a cultural construct serves to
provide answers for questions in life and our search for orientation?22 Is
man all alone by himself even at the heart of the deepest metaphors he
uses? Western theology has been deeply influenced by the agnosticism
that modernity has accepted as its basic attitude.
That knowledge is a ‘success word’ has also, in part, fed into this
distrust. To know something implies that there is something known
which actually exists or works. When the concept of knowing God is
used, it means that an implicit claim is being made that God exists,
or rather, acts and speaks. We indeed do find that claim with both of
the theologians discussed here. No matter how different the times in
which they lived, for both Calvin and Barth the existence of God—
or better, the knowability of God—is not open to question. Before a
man can pose the question about God’s existence, he has already been
touched by God. Both point to experiences through which it appears
that man always arrives on the scene too late with his scepticism.
By beginning with the concept of knowledge of God, I do not deny
20 The dogmatic work of G.C. Berkouwer, particularly his Dogmatische Studien, Kam-
pen 1949–1972; ET: Studies in Dogmatics, Grand Rapids 1952–1976 documents the at-
tempt to banish objectivism from theology and give the subject his specific place, ori-
ented within concentration on the Gospel.
21 See for example S. McFague, Metaphorical Theology. Models of God in Religious Lan-
guage, London 1983; idem, Models of God. Theology for an Ecological Nuclear Age, Lon-
don 1987. E. Jüngel, ‘Metaphorische Wahrheit. Erwägungen zur theologischen Rele-
vanz der Metapher als Beitrag zur Hermeneutik einer narrativen Theologie’ in: idem,
Entsprechungen: Gott—Wahrheit—Mensch. Theologische Erörterungen, München 1980, 103–157.
Idem, Gott als Geheimnis der Welt, 357–383; ET, 261–281.
22 For an approach of this sort, see for instance G.A. Lindbeck, The Nature of Doctrine.
Religion and Theology in a Postliberal Age, Philadelphia (PA) 1984. For the anthropological
approach to religion as a cultural construct see the frequently cited article by Clifford
Geertz, ‘Religion as a Cultural System’ in: idem, The Interpretation of Culture, London
1993, 87–125.

27. introduction 13
that this assertion is subject to tremendous pressure, at least within
the agnostic climate of a Western society which, for the rest, in a
global perspective, geographically and culturally, overrates itself. The
choice for the concept of knowledge of God is however inspired by
the conviction that the notion of knowledge is something which simply
cannot be abandoned by Christian faith. As soon as we accept the
idea that man not only thinks, but reflects on what he hears, the
metaphor no longer has to be labelled figurative language, but quite
to the contrary it can be said of a metaphor precisely that it supplies
knowledge. If what the sources of Christian faith themselves suggest is
true, namely that faith is called up by acts of God, through His Word,
through the coming of God to man, to His world, then the words,
stories and songs, and the metaphors that control them live from that
coming. Knowledge in faith, or knowledge of God, arises where man
lets himself be addressed, be determined, responds to God’s address
and approach. The reflection takes place within an already existing web
of being addressed by stories, words, songs, images. That means that
from the very start revelation has the nature of an appeal, is creative
and performative because it creates a relationship. Knowledge of God
certainly also implies information, but the informative is ultimately
embedded in the performative: in the relation, in the appeal. If that
is true, there are good reasons to withstand the agnostic tendency in
contemporary theology and, for the sake of internal theological reasons
hold fast to the notion of knowledge.23
There are thus substantive reasons for arguing for maintaining the
term ‘knowledge of God’ as a central concept. Where people experi-
ence their faith, in praying, singing, meditating, in liturgy, in shaping
their lives, in taking responsibility for the care of creation, for their soci-
ety in a larger or smaller sense, there God and his will to salvation are
in one way or another the object of human knowing, however much
hesitancy and how many limitations may accompany it, and a cause for
acting. There is no need to speak about it noisily or ceremoniously, as if
God were something that could be pointed to. Man knows all too well
that within the Christian tradition itself the knowing of God in this life
is a knowing in part, thus tentative, and the concepts of Christian doc-
trine reminds us that all theology is no more than a map on the way, in
via.
23 Jüngel, Gott als Geheimnis der Welt, 383–408; ET, 281–298.

28. 14 chapter one
1.4. Bipolarity and conflict
In this study knowledge of God is not used in the sense that it has as
its primary meaning in scholastic theology, namely God’s knowledge
of Himself. As human knowledge of God, the concept can be pictured
schematically as an ellipse with two foci. The one focus is the acting of
God, and the other the faith of man as answer to that acting. These two
elements, which in dogmatics are generally discussed separately under
the headings of revelation and faith, are taken up together in the one
concept of knowledge of God. By reaching back to the older concept
we make it clear that these two, faith and revelation, belong together
from the very outset, and can not be discussed apart from one another.
The concept of knowledge of God thereby contains within itself the
tension that characterises the relation between God and man. The con-
cept of knowledge of God has not only a propositional, epistemological
presumption, but implies from the outset a bipolarity, namely, the rela-
tion of God and man. It is therefore at the same time a conflict-laden
concept. It is not without reason that I have referred already to the
mystical, or better in this connection, the spiritual dimension of the
concept.24 This designation must still be sharpened somewhat, because
the adjectives mystic and spiritual taken in themselves are too pallid
and can easily lead to misunderstandings. They reflect too little of the
drama, tension and conflict in this relation. If God is known, this takes
place within a damaged world, and this is partly the fault of men who
are at odds with themselves and their world. Knowing God is not a
matter of tranquil reflection or serenity, but on the contrary refers to a
confrontation, an invitation to let oneself be defined by a promise, to
respond to an trumpet call, and to do that in the midst of an existence
which is marked by emptiness and a flight from the void. Put in other
words: the concept of knowing God is soteriologically charged, and not
without reason refers to eschatology.
A short tour through the Johannine writings, at first sight the most
serene documents of the New Testament, will teach that knowing in
this context is absolutely not serene, and has lost all sense of neutrality.
According to these texts, human knowing of God involves not only a
decrease of ignorance. Knowledge and acquisition of knowledge stand
in tension with error and lies. In the Gospel according to John the
24 Cf. H. Bavinck, Modernisme en orthodoxie, Kampen 1911, 37.

29. introduction 15
attitude opposed to light is described as rejection (John 1:10–11), in
chapter 3 the ignorance of Nicodemus is a form of error (John 3:10),
and in chapter 8 the rejection is characterised as violence and lies
(John 8:44). These are indications that in the sphere of faith the theme
of human knowledge of God therefore can not be discussed merely
as an epistemological problem. It is a completely theological concept
within which the whole relation of man to God is being expressed.
Knowing God involves both the affective and the cognitive, but also
acting. Knowledge of God reveals itself in love, in doing the will of
the Father (IJohn 3:6, 16). It coincides with the perspectives on being
human that in the catechetical tradition were traditionally discussed
under the heads of faith, command and prayer.
The knowledge to which theology refers has to do with engagement,
with contact and presence. In short, it is relational knowing, sometimes
in a pregnant sense. This view is not limited to the Johannine writings.
It is not without reason that the Hebrew word yada is also used for
sexual intercourse between a man and woman (see for instance Gen.
4:25;; see also Matt. 1:25). Knowledge that really moves one often has
a corporeal basis. It will be seen that particularly Calvin’s theology
contains reminiscences of these sensory dimensions of our knowing.
God invites us through concrete, earthly means. No matter how strange
that may sound, we can learn more from Calvin about the interaction
of knowledge of God and creation and physicality than we can from
Barth.
1.5. The mirror as an invitation
The title given to this book picks up on the familiar passage from the
apostle Paul about the limits of knowledge of God in this life, but it
is not restricted to this specific association. In ICor. 13 Paul offers an
assessment of the charismata which are found in the community. He
lists prophecy, speaking in tongues, and knowledge, gnosis. For all of
these ways of knowing and dealing with one another, however, it is
the case that we still see ‘in a mirror’, ‘dimly’; it is to ‘know in part’.
In other words, in this passage the image of the mirror refers to the
restrictions and limitations to which the knowing of God is subject. This
specific meaning was however already in the ancient world embed-
ded in the broader field of symbolic possibilities to which the natural
phenomenon of visual reflection gave rise, namely as a metaphor for

30. 16 chapter one
knowledge. The mirror invites, makes known. This broader meaning,
which as it were is presupposed in the use Paul makes of the image, is
what the title is intended to express.
As a utensil the mirror was also a source of fascination in the ancient
world. One could view an object through its reflection in a mirror. It
was a form of indirect knowledge. The image is not perfect, as in direct
observation. The reflection is the mirror image of the original: what is
left appears to be right, and what is right, left. We should particularly
remember that the antique mirror, as Paul knew it, was very far from
having the accuracy of today’s bright and blemish-free glass mirrors.
One had only mirrors of beaten and polished metal.25 The image that
was visible in the mirror was vaguer and subject to deformations by
the unevenness of the surface. It is for this reason that the apostle
adds ‘dimly’. A mirror afforded no perfect image; there was indeed an
image, but it was vague and freakish. That throws light on the manner
in which the metaphor is used by Paul. What we know of God and His
kingdom has holes, empty places, things that are really unknown or are
known only in part. This is tentative knowledge. That however does
not detract from there being enough known, according to Paul, to live
with it. Christian knowledge of God comprises the essentials. and at the
same is limited.
The image of the mirror plays an important, and in part iden-
tical role in both Calvin and Barth, but as we will see, they differ
on one important point. For both there are places, facts or a his-
tory which can be pointed to which fulfil the role of a mirror, of an
open invitation to learn to know, to participate. In Calvin’s theology
the metaphor of the mirror stands for a multiplicity of concrete ways
through which knowledge of God can arise and be nourished. It is
an outspoken metaphor which functions positively theologically as an
indicator of the range of earthly means with which God, through his
Spirit, draws men to himself. Mirrors are the places where God makes
clear what He wills regarding man. God has something in store for
man; He made him to be in fellowship with Him. They play an essen-
tial role in the trustworthiness of the images and the content with
which God makes Himself present with man. For Calvin knowledge
of God is not reduced to the singularity of the self-revelation given in
Christ.
25 See 2.3.1.

31. introduction 17
The image of the mirror also fulfils a role for Barth, in particular in
the doctrine of the analogia fidei, later elaborated into the doctrine of the
analogia relationis. Like Calvin, Barth proceeds from the actual knowa-
bility of God, but knowledge of God is rigidly Christologically defined,
and the pneumatology that we encounter in some breadth in Calvin is
here entirely in the service of Christology. God is knowable through his
revelation in Jesus Christ. In fact this history is the locus of knowability
in which all other elements by which God makes himself known partic-
ipate. At the same time, the manner in which this knowability is pre-
sented reveals the degree to which it is interwoven with the problematic
of modernity. Barth’s concept of knowing God begins with the realisa-
tion that the word God, as it is used in the Bible and Christian faith,
does not coincide with the fact, with the visible. The word ‘God’ refers
to the Holy One who ‘distinguishes [Himself] from fate, in that He not
so much is, but rather comes’.26 Barth’s preference for an idealistic struc-
ture of thought, in which God, the origin or the idea, is not considered
to be represented in the factual, but as an object of knowing can only
be gained in a process of critical distancing, is brought into relation
with this preference by Barth himself. Knowledge of God is no longer
derived from the world, nor is it to be directly identified with the text
of the Bible, but can only be conceived as the bestowed participation in
the self-revelation of God in Christ. In the idea of self-revelation what is
characteristic of this concept appears to contrast with Calvin’s concept,
where the work of the Spirit is conceived more broadly and is not just a
property of Christology. According to Barth knowledge of God is only
conceivable as participation in a movement, an irreducible but never-
theless actual reality of God’s acting and speaking which must always
be reconstituted anew. Only by virtue of this reality and that event can
a part of earthly reality, concretely the man Jesus, become the revela-
tion of God’s acting. It is characteristic of this concept of knowing God
that, as a result of this approach, there is no plausibility whatsoever to
be searched for or to be found for the truth of knowledge of God out-
side of participation in this actual reality of God’s acting. This has led to
the questions and complaints which still pursue Barth’s theological con-
cept. In the wake of this theology, is knowledge of God not typified by a
certain Docetism, hermetically sealed to the concretely historical? One
does not have to answer this question in the affirmative to nevertheless
26 K. Barth, ‘Schicksal und Idee in der Theologie’ in: idem, Theologische Fragen und
Antworten. Gesammelte Vorträge III, Zürich 1957, 70.

32. 18 chapter one
acknowledge the underlying question as legitimate. In what way is the
truth of God peculiar? What are the supporting elements for a Chris-
tian concept of knowledge of God that is characterised by a fundamen-
tal openness for perception of reality, and that can become a contribu-
tion to discussion about our world and the search for humanity? In this
Calvin and Barth, as representatives of an ecumenical Reformed theol-
ogy, both agree that knowledge of God not only concerns the private
affairs of the individual, but serves a public interest.

33. part one
JOHN CALVIN

35. chapter two
WAYS OF KNOWING
2.1. Introduction
2.1.1. Knowledge of God and piety
The face of a theological project is at least as strongly defined by the
lines which are not there as by the lines which are deliberately and
forcefully introduced. That is true for Calvin’s theology too. One of
the most obvious differences with contemporary systematic theologi-
cal projects is the absence of any separate handling of the doctrine of
revelation, or the question of the nature and sources of knowledge of
God. In modern schemes the discussion of this subject precedes all else,
and is broadly conceived. Anyone reading Calvin discovers that this
subject has no separate or central place in the whole of his writings
and theology. This should not be surprising. The term revelation only
made its appearance as a central and fundamental concept that organ-
ises and qualifies the whole of theology and all of its sectors when it
became a point of debate where and if God revealed Himself.1 That
does not deny that Calvin too discusses the question of how man comes
to knowledge of God, but the doctrine of revelation and theological
epistemology as such are not of primary interest to him.2 That is a not
unimportant observation, because it gives us insight into the certainties
1 P. Eicher, Offenbarung. Prinzip neuzeitlicher Theologie, Munich 1977, 17–57, distin-
guishes among four different functions of the concept of revelation, namely 1) as a
qualifier of the content of belief, 2) as legitimator, to the extent that the concept refers
to God as the source of authority, 3) as an apologetic category, and 4) as a systematising
and unifying concept for the whole of theological assertions; see also H. Waldenfels,
Einführung in die Theologie der Offenbarung, Darmstadt 1996, 83–143. In agreement with
W. Pannenberg (Systematic Theology, Vol. 1, Grand Rapids, MI, 1991, 194–195), one can
argue that the explicit assumption of revelation as a subject in contemporary theology
primarily serves the function of legitimisation and authorisation. Knowledge of God
without any form of authorisation remains a purely human, subjective assertion. See
further 9.4.
2 E.A. Dowey, ‘The Structure of Calvin’s Theological Thought as Influenced by the

36. 22 chapter two
that Calvin shared with his times. Of course, it is possible to read a
number of portions of Book I with modern eyes and to scrutinise them
in terms of the questions that are discussed as introductory questions in
the prolegomena of later times.3 We can not however overlook the fact
that a general introduction of the sort that dogmatics in the modern era
feels is obligatory, is simply not present in an explicit form in Calvin.
He does not worry about the question of whether knowledge of God
as such is possible or real. The critical commitment of his theology lies
elsewhere, in much more substantive questions, namely who God is for
man and what his salvation for man means. It is these substantive ques-
tions which interest him more, precisely because their substance, which
should guide relations with God, in his judgement has been buried
under a weight of ritual and tradition in the church. A frequently recur-
ring description of the situation in the church is ruina. In his eyes, the
church—or better yet, Christianity—is in a state of decay. That which
people know of God and His salvation is hidden and smothered by
illegitimate elements, by innovations which deviate from the original
truth. Therefore, reformation is necessary, because the lack of knowl-
edge, the ignorantia, that has gained the upper hand in church and soci-
ety can then be combated. Calvin’s sense of his times is characterised
by his assertion that it is only recently that, thanks to the grace of God,
insight into the true content of the Gospel has again been gained.4 He
sees his own role lying in propagating and strengthening the rediscov-
ered Gospel in the hearts of men and in social institutions. I mention
these elements because they are of importance in seeing more sharply
what Calvin is out to accomplish. Pure knowledge of God is important,
because only pure knowledge can afford understanding of salvation.
The chance is great that the word ‘pure’ will immediately set off
alarm bells. It confirms the image of doctrinal orthodoxy, intellectu-
alism and persecution of heretics, in short, of all the notions that the
pejorative use of the word Calvinism has powerfully fed. Is the pursuit
two-fold Knowledge of God’ in: W.H. Neuser (ed.), Calvinus ecclesiae Genevensis Custos,
Frankfurt a.M/New York 1984, 139.
3 W.J. Bouwsma, John Calvin. A sixteenth Century Portrait, New York/Oxford 1988, 153.
4 See, for instance, the letter presenting the Institutes to Francis I, where ignorance
among those disposed to the Gospel in France is given as a reason for writing the
first edition, OS III, 9: ‘… paucissimos autem videbam qui vel modica eius cognitione
rite imbuti essent.’ and OS III, 15: ‘Quod diu incognita sepultaque latuit, humanae
impietatis crimen est: nunc quum Dei benignitate nobis redditur, saltem postliminii
iure suam antiquitatem recipere debebat.’

37. ways of knowing 23
of religious purity not inseparably linked with intolerance and inhu-
manity, with the fate of Castellio, Bolsec, Gruet, Servetus and so many
others whose lot was banishment or death? Is not purity a suspect word,
because as distant inheritors of the Enlightenment we are firmly con-
vinced that nothing in the world can be pure? Anyone who wishes to
penetrate this distant, and for contemporary attitudes strange and dep-
recated world will have to be open to the possibility that for Calvin
the concept of purity may stand in a broader context than that of doc-
trine. What did Calvin have in mind? For him it did indeed mean to
purify doctrine or free the church of deeply ingrained but reprehensible
rituals and customs—but it did not mean that exclusively. The word
‘purify’ had a much broader and, I would say, both social and spiritual
or intellectual meaning. That is to say, knowledge of God touches the
full breadth and depth of life. By breadth I mean the quality of pub-
lic life, the quality of society. Religion is not just what it appears to be
in modern Western society, namely a matter for individual believers or
a congregation on the margins of society. The concern for religion is
just as much a responsibility of the authorities and represents a public
interest. This ideal of a unified culture, striving for a Christian society,
the societas christiana, has become totally alien to us. We associate that
with an authoritarian culture. This is not to say that the necessity of
a certain social unity or consensus is denied in contemporary public
debate. Anything but that; but within a situation of plurality and diver-
sity of convictions, ‘norms and values’ is the search for unity narrowed
down to a search for a common ethos, which is not strictly dependent
on a religious source. With Calvin we are still in a climate in which
ethos, religion and public interest are directly linked with one another.
Merely the fact that Calvin dedicated his Institutes to the king of France
is an indication that there was a totally different relationship between
the church and government. What he writes about the task of the gov-
ernment can only confirm this: The worship of God and the Kingdom
of Christ should also be given form in social and public life.5 The refor-
mation that he had in mind operates not only on the level of doctrine
5 OS III, 11: ‘Tuum autem erit, serenissime Rex, nec aures, nec animum a tam
iusto patrocinio avertere: praesertim ubi de re tanta agitur: nempe quomodo Dei
gloriae sua constet in terris incolumitas, quomodo suam dignitatem Dei veritas retineat,
quomodo regnum Christo sartum tectumque inter nos maneat. Digna res auribus tuis,
digna tua cognitione, digna tuo tribunali. Siquidem et verum Regem haec cogitatio
facit, agnoscere se in regni administratione Dei ministrum. Nec iam regnum ille sed
latrocinium exercet qui non in hoc regnat ut Dei gloriae serviat.’

38. 24 chapter two
that finds its apex in personal salvation, but equally involves the public
sphere, as can be seen in the role that the Consistory fulfilled in the
Genevan community.
By depth I then mean personal spiritual life. This introduction will
direct attention toward both aspects. The breadth of the social rootage
will be discussed in 2.1.2. The final introductory section (2.1.3) will give
a number of examples of the inseparable connection of religion with a
pure conscience.
The involvement of the knowledge of God with the concrete cir-
cumstances of human life is programmatically expressed in the famous
opening sentence of the Institutes: ‘Our wisdom, in so far as it ought
to be deemed true and solid wisdom, consists almost entirely of two
parts: the knowledge of God and of ourselves.’6 In this characterisation
of the content of faith, which unmistakably bears traces of the Bibli-
cal humanism of the day and the search for a philosophia christiana as
the true wisdom,7 knowledge of God and human self-knowledge are
directly linked with one another. One cannot be had without the other.
Human religious understanding can be conceived as an ellipse with
two foci, namely the knowledge of God and human self-knowledge.
These two are correlates of one another. In this sense, Calvin enunci-
ates a principle of methodology that will be fruitful everywhere in his
theology: religious knowledge is bipolar. Knowledge of God has conse-
quences for that which men know about themselves. As a man achieves
insight into himself and life, that will have direct consequences for his
knowledge of God. Knowledge of God is anything but theoretical. In
its aim and intent it is practical and, to immediately say the word that
characterises this concept and the spirituality which accompanies it in
its whole height, breadth and depth, it is profitable. Calvin’s theology is
rooted in the humanistic climate shaped by the Renaissance, in which it
is no longer the vita contemplativa, far from the world, which provides the
paradigm for proper life, but existence in the world that functions as
the divine task.8 What we call his theology is anything but a theoretical
activity. It is practical knowledge.
6Inst. 1.1.1.
7F. Wendel, Calvin et l’humanisme, Paris 1976, 75–76 points to Cicero’s definition
of philosophy which lies behind this, and the handling of this definition by Budé
and Erasmus. See particularly J. Bohatec, Budé und Calvin. Studien zur Gedankenwelt des
französischen Frühhumanismus, Graz 1950.
8 See for instance Calvin’s abundantly clear rejection of monastic life in principle in
Inst. 4.13.16.

39. ways of knowing 25
The practical orientation of Calvin’s theology is expressed in a word
that is related to knowledge of God and that describes the spirituality
which is connected with this theology: pietas, devotion.9 The double
implications of the concept of pietas have almost been lost to us. In
the modern vernacular piety has suffered a thoroughgoing reduction
to a description of a religious attitude. Piety then refers primarily to
ourselves, and not to God. Remnants of the original double meaning
of the concept can, however, still be found in English in the term
‘filial piety’, for piety was not originally focused exclusively on the
divine or sacred, but equally well described what was owed to our
fellowmen. Calvin has deliberately chosen to limit the definition of
pietas. Real knowledge of God results in piety. Piety is no outward
form, no inessential, but has real content. The definition that he gives
for piety is worth citing; it affords access to what Calvin presents as
faith. He writes, ‘By piety I mean that union of reverence and love
to God which the knowledge of his benefits inspires.’10 A couple of
elements in this definition attract our attention. In the first place,
it must involve knowledge of God’s benefits, notitia. In other words,
piety is not empty; it is paired with knowledge. Next, something is
proposed regarding the content of this knowledge. In piety God is
known as the source of all good that mankind meets, both in the
world surrounding him and also in the Bible. Knowledge of God does
not start at point zero; it is the perception of a source of good, of
something positive. Third, the definition makes it clear where such
knowledge must lead, namely to the double reaction of respect (or
worship) and love. The worship acknowledges the distance of God and
the majesty of this source of all good; the love of God acknowledges
the graciousness of the Divinity. As we have said, in the concept of
pietas the practical point of Calvin’s theology becomes visible. It is no
longer a question of doctrine or orthodoxy. Doctrine is in the service
of a purpose, namely to present man to God in integrity and purity.11
9 See L.J. Richard, The Spirituality of John Calvin, Atlanta 1974, 97–134. See also the
study by F.L. Battles, The Piety of John Calvin. An Anthology illustrative of the Spirituality of the
Reformer of Geneva, Pittsburg 1969.
10 Inst. 1.2.1: ‘Pietatem voco coniunctam cum amore Dei reverentiam quam benefi-
ciorum eius notitia conciliat.’
11 See the letter to Francis I, OS I, 9: ‘Tantum erat animus rudimenta quaedam
tradere, quibus formarentur ad veram pietatem qui aliquo religionis studio tanguntur.’
See also what Calvin wrote in the Supplex exhortatio ad invictis. Caesarem Carolum Quintum
(1543), preparatory to the religious discussion at Spiers, (CO 6, 484): ‘Certe nihil ab aliis

40. 26 chapter two
M. de Kroon has pointed to another text where for Calvin this point
comes clearly to the fore. In his exegesis of Psalm 97:7 (‘All worshippers
of images are put to shame, who make their boast in worthless idols; the
gods bow down before him’), he writes, ‘Piety in the true sense of the
word is this: that the true God be worshipped totally and wholly, so that
He alone is exalted and no creature casts a shadow on His majesty.’12
Calvin is there anxious that honour which in fact belongs to God not be
paid to people or things. Further along we shall also see again how this
anxiety for the way in which he will speak of the relation between God
and man is characteristic of his theology.13 Neither man, nor a moral
project is the deepest motif of his theology, but a God who inclines
to man. The acknowledgement of this is what piety is about. All else
is subordinate to this practical purpose of piety. This is of paramount
importance for evaluating Calvin’s theology. What God makes known
of himself does not serve a theoretical or contemplative purpose, but is
practical in import.
A fourth element that surfaces in the definition of piety, and which is
telling for the colour and tone of knowledge of God, is related to this.
I am referring to the verb conciliare, which can have the more neutral
meaning of ‘to bring about’, but with regard to human affection can
be translated as ‘arouse’ or ‘win’. It is close to another word which will
play a large role in the knowledge of God, namely the word invitare, or
invite. The words ‘arouse’ and ‘invite’ are indicators of a basic line in
Calvin’s theology which, I would emphasise, is far too little taken into
account in the reception of Calvin’s thought in dogmatics. According
to Calvin, in many manners, through a colourful palette of means,
God entices, draws, invites and encourages man to acknowledge his
Maker. It must be emphasised that this invitation comes through a
differimus, sicut dixi,nisi quod nos hominem, inopiae impotentiaeque suae convictum,
melius ad veram humilitatem erudimus, ut abdicata in totum sui fiducia in Deum totus
recumbit, item ad gratitudinem, ut Dei beneficentiae quidquid habet boni transscribat,
sicut revera ab ipso est.’
12 M. de Kroon, Martin Bucer en Johannes Calvijn. Reformatorische perspectieven. Teksten en
inleiding, Zoetermeer 1991, 99.
13 According to M. de Kroon that is the point which distinguishes him from M. Bu-
cer, for whom pietas describes the unity of faith and love. While for Calvin pietas is
focused on God, for Bucer the concept includes the relation to God and to man, thus
faith and ethics. Bucer opposes the Anabaptist tendency to primatise love toward the
neighbour with the unity of faith in the justifying God and love of the neighbour. See
M. de Kroon, Martin Bucer en Johannes Calvijn, 92–108.

41. ways of knowing 27
colourful palette of means. The Scriptures are certainly central to this,
but they are not the only means through which God lets himself be
known; the Scripture offers the possibility of giving all sorts of other
experiences, inward and outward, a place in the contact that God
exercises with them. To use a favourite metaphor of Calvin’s, God
places the believer in the school of the Holy Spirit and thus subjects
him to a lifelong learning process that only comes to an end when in
the future life men are united with Christ in a new body. We can call
that eschatological, or better yet, the final orientation of this theology.
Or yet again, Calvin’s theological idiom here betrays that it finds its
nourishment in an intellectual climate in which God is experienced
as the One who is actively occupied with mankind, spurring him on,
drawing him, constantly training him.
By leading off in this study with the suggestion that for Calvin the
world and Bible function as an open invitation to the knowing of
God, I am following a path that is not often trodden. The well-worn
image of Calvin’s theology, set in stone once and for all when Hegel’s
philosophy in fact defined the interpretation, is that all things come
together at one point in Calvin’s theology, namely at the Counsel of
God as the centre which defines everything and gives all its proper
place. Calvin was the man of the system, logic and determinism. It
cannot be denied that Calvin sees no other possibility than to acknowl-
edge God as the director, as the sovereign Lord who exercises domin-
ion over all things in his sphere, but it is something else to separate
and elevate this to the only aspect of Calvin’s peculiar theology. It must
be admitted that this did not come out of the thin air. Seen histor-
ically, in the wake of the arguments between the Remonstrants and
the Counter-Remonstrants, independent consideration of God’s Coun-
sel, out of which arise both providence and double predestination, has
become definitive for the image of Calvinism internationally. Against
the background of the way this image was shaped, it may appear to
be an all too easy attempt to save Calvin for ecumenical discussion to
now label invitation the fundamental element in his theology. Is such
language, when it comes from Calvin’s pen, indeed to be taken seri-
ously? Or does the invitation evaporate in the light of the Counsel of
God, to become an empty haze, something that in the end does not
matter conceptually? After all, is the conviction that all things that hap-
pen, happen at God’s command, not a part of the knowledge of God’s
benefits? Certainly the things of man and this world are fixed in His
Counsel, and all is decided about doom and salvation, about all that