1.1 Protestantism and orthodoxy

As this article examines Protestant theology in its scholastic context in the mid-sixteenth to the beginning of the eighteenth century, it will begin by defining some key terms. ‘Protestantism’ is the ecclesial and theological reform movement that traces its origins to such figures as Martin Luther (1483–1546), Philip Melanchthon (1497–1569), Martin Bucer (1491–1551), and John Calvin (1509–1564). The reformers argued that life and doctrine should be shaped primarily by scripture, not ecclesial traditions, and promulgated a reformation of theology and praxis. In the decades following the Wittenberg reformation (early sixteenth century), where Martin Luther was a leading figure and professor, other notable cities became centres of reform such as Geneva, Zurich, Heidelberg, and many others. Early on, Protestantism would divide into two mainline groups, the Lutheran and the Reformed. (This article refrains from using the term ‘Calvinist’ as Calvin did not enjoy the same prominent place in the development of the ‘Reformed’ reformation stream as Luther did among the ‘Lutheran’ group, both subsumed under the term ‘Protestant’ here [Donnelly 1976a: 81].)

A related scholarly term is ‘Protestant orthodoxy’, which in some respects overlaps with ‘Protestant scholasticism’ (Selderhuis 2013). Protestant orthodoxy refers to the project of codifying, teaching, and defending the Protestant theological position in confessional documents. Both Lutherans and the Reformed adopted distinctive confessional documents which reflected their theological and practical distinctions, while also sharing core convictions. In the 1520s, Luther and his colleagues had to defend and articulate their doctrines and practices on several fronts, both internally and externally. The defining documents in the Lutheran communion were eventually included in the Book of Concord (1580). It comprises the Apostles’ Creed, the Nicene Creed, the Athanasian Creed, Luther’s Small and Large Catechisms (1529), the Augsburg Confession (1530), the Apology of the Augsburg Confession (1531), the Schmalkaldic Articles (1537), Treaties on the Power and Primacy of the Pope (1537), and the Formula of Concord (1577). It is a matter of some dispute how to understand the Lutheran confessional tradition. A narrow understanding simply takes some of the Reformation’s main ideas as normative, such as justification by faith. A somewhat wider, yet more concentrated, understanding of Lutheranism is to refer to the confessional documents mentioned in the Book of Concord, in which the Augsburg Confession and Luther’s catechisms play a more foundational role, although for some Lutheran groups they are sufficient for their Lutheran identity. Still others add to the Formula of Concord the most influential writings of Lutheran theologians. This article understands ‘Lutheran’ in the latter sense (Kolb and Trueman 2017: xi).

In common with the Lutherans, the Reformed confessional tradition adhered to the ancient creeds. The Reformed confessional distinctives are usually summarized under the term ‘Three Forms of Unity’, as an alternative to the Lutheran Formula of Concord. The designation refers to the Belgic Confession (1561), the Heidelberg Catechism (1563), and the Canons of the Synod of Dort (1618–1619) (Bierma and Sinnema 2020). The Reformed confessional tradition can also be defined in a wider sense to include the writings of the leading Reformed theologians together with significant documents such the Thirty-Nine Articles of Religion (1571) and the Westminster Confession and its two Catechisms (1646–1647), which agree with the substance of the Three Forms of Unity in their theological orientation. As with the Lutheran tradition, the Reformed tradition can be interpreted narrowly or widely. This article includes the confessional documents mentioned in this paragraph along with the most influential writings of Reformed theologians.

The Augsburg Confession of 1530 holds a special status as it was subscribed to by both Reformed and Lutheran theologians and remained a hope for a Protestant union for a long time. However, the two Protestant theological traditions developed in part in opposition to each other, although they shared fundamental convictions (for example, in their basic understanding of Scriptural authority and justification by faith). The interpretations and application of the reformational heritage began to show in their practice and teaching. The issues that came to divide churches and theologians associated with the Lutheran Wittenberg and the Reformed Geneva include differing views on predestination, law and gospel, worship, freedom of choice, Christology, and the Lord’s Supper/Eucharist (Kolb and Trueman 2017). On both sides, there were those who had sympathies in the opposite direction, which testifies to the relative variety of positions within each developing confessional tradition.

Two more factors need to be mentioned at the outset that contributed to the development of Protestant scholasticism in its defence of orthodoxy. First, there were reform movements that, in various ways, deviated from or went further than the Magisterial Reformation, gaining the title ‘Radical Reformation’ (Williams 2000). The Magisterial Reformation refers to the Protestant churches that acknowledged that the secular authorities or the magistrate has a legitimate political power in the secular realm, as far as it does not conflict with the commands given in scripture. The term also refers to the Protestant acknowledgement of the relative authority of the ancient confessional tradition and the major teachers in the church’s tradition, like Augustine. The term Radical Reformation thus refers to a wide range of ideas and practices, many of which emerged from within the Protestant Reformational principles but took them further than the magisterial reformers intended. For instance, some radical groups advocated for a violent revolt against the king or the state. Among the Radical reformers, the Socinians were a common target of the Protestant theologians’ sustained criticism. The term derives from the Italian brothers Lelio and Fausto Sozzini (1539–1604). The Socinians sought a biblical reinterpretation of basic theological issues that led to a rejection of the confessional tradition of the Protestant reformers, such as Nicene trinitarianism and Chalcedonian Christology.

Due to the initial association of ‘radicals’ as Thomas Müntzer and Andreas Karlstadt with Luther, the Roman Catholics sometimes tended to assimilate the Radical and the Magisterial reformation movements in their polemic. Protestant theologians, therefore, when distancing themselves from such perceived radical tendencies, used scholastic forms of discourse to make their case.

Second, we should also point to the major event in the Roman Catholic Church during the sixteenth century: the Council of Trent (1545–1563). In response to the Protestant Reformation, the papal council issued binding statements and clarifications to address many of the central disputed questions that laid down how the central issues should be defended and defined. It was part of a larger ‘counter-reformation’ within the Roman Catholic Church. Scholastic theologians were naturally part of the Roman counter-reformation movement, notably the Dominican, Thomas Cajetan (1469–1534), who led the examination of Luther’s theology at the Diet of Augsburg in 1518, and later the Jesuit, Robert Bellarmine (1515–1582), who at length engaged Protestant theology in Disputationes de controversiis christianae fidei (Disputations on the Controversies of the Christian Faith, 1586–1593).

1.2 Protestantism and scholasticism

The term ‘scholasticism’ is difficult to define concisely, as its meaning has evolved over time (McGraw 2019: 121–138; Leinsle 2010: 1–15). Etymologically, ‘scholasticism’ derives from the Greek scholae, which means the leisurely or free study of a subject for its own sake. This kind of study was exemplified in the philosophical schools and included both instruction for life and the pursuit of theoria, which was the life of the learned ‘intellectuals’ like Cicero, as well as of rhetoricians and officials of the state. Since antiquity, the term scholasticus could also refer to anyone who belonged to one of the ancient philosophical schools. So scholasticism refers to an organic and growing intellectual project that the Christian theologians adopted and refashioned as an educational ideal, arguably already in the patristic era. Thus, Protestant scholasticism can be considered part of a continuous Western intellectual tradition which John Marenbon (2024) has called ‘the long Middle Ages’, stretching from 200 to 1700. Christian scholasticism was then developed and further institutionalized by the medieval schoolmen in various contexts: the monasteries, the cathedral schools, religious orders, and more formally in the universities from the thirteenth century (Rouwendal 2011; Copleston 1975).

A basic characteristic of Christian scholasticism is the acknowledgment of certain ‘authorities’ (auctores), that is, central texts such as the church fathers (for example: Augustine, Boethius, and Ambrose), secular authors (for example: Plato, Aristotle, and Cicero), and above all Holy Scripture. These texts were read, discussed, and commented on by scholars and students. Various collections of authorities were produced in the early Middle Ages for teaching purposes. Most influential of these collections was Sententiae (Sentences) in four volumes by the bishop of Paris, Peter Lombard (1095/1100–1060). Lombard had gathered quotes from various authorities, as well as contemporary ‘opinion’ (opiniones), which he arranged into broad theological themes and made some comments of his own. Sententiae to a significant degree reflected his own classroom environment as a teacher in Paris.

The method Lombard adopted in his work was inspired by Pierre Abelard (1079–1142), who had composed Sic et non (Yes and No, c. 1121), a work consisting of 158 questions about faith and ethics that each contained a selection of contradictory sayings drawn from the church fathers, church councils, and scripture. Although Abelard’s method soon came under suspicion, his influence was felt in the generations to come. Sic et non was intended to let the student walk through a series of difficulties on their own and thus reach a conclusion. In the introduction, Abelard had provided some guiding rules for the students to use in their training. This method was intended to discipline the student to attain the truth as far as each subject would allow. (Sometimes, when a certain conclusion cannot be reached, the inquirer must be content with probable and less probable opinions.)

One important aspect of the emerging scholastic method in works such as Lombard’s Sententiae is to make proper distinctions and definitions. Whatever the exact form a particular scholastic treatment took, it always sought to define the topic as tightly as possible and to divide it into questions (quaestiones), parts, articles, arguments pro and con, and a nuanced resolution or answer. A central practice in scholasticism was the disputation (disputatio) – a quasi-formal way of dealing with a difficult topic in a sort of question-and-answer format. Typically, the Magister chose a question, let the students argue back and forth on a proposed ‘thesis’ (often with an appointed baccalaureus or amanuensis taking notes), and then the Master finally summed up the debate and gave a considered answer (determinatio or responsio). Disputations like these would normally take place in the classroom, but sometimes also in public (Leinsle 2010: 16–181).

The quaestio-method also shaped many of the written works of the medieval and Protestant scholastics, such as Aquinas’ Summa theologiae. Many of the early Protestant scholastics adopted the practice of the commentary tradition on the Sententiae, as well as the quaestio-method, since that was the way most of them had been taught in the schools. Instead of rejecting these aspects of their scholastic heritage, they continued to develop them when reforming the Protestant educational institutions. Thus, we may, for instance, point to Francis Turretin’s more elaborated scholasticism in his ‘elenctic’ (Greek for refutation) or polemical work. Turretin divides each theological loci or topic into a number of pointed questions that were either affirmed or denied through a series of steps, often something like this: (i) a general description of and the possible answers to the question, (ii) ‘the state of the question’ (status quaestionis) in his time, (iii) support from scripture and tradition, and (iv) ‘sources of explanation’ (fontes solutionum) which summarized and extended the main arguments of the question for the reader’s benefit. Similar examples could be multiplied at length from both Lutheran and Reformed sources. This illustrates the continuity and development of the scholastic method in Protestant theology.

This basic description of academic practices in medieval and Renaissance European scholastic culture in large part describes what was going on in Protestant educational settings also (Freedman 1993; 1999; Appold 2008). An example of the institutionalization of Protestant scholasticism is the Statutes of the Genevan Academy (1559) (Goeing 2021; Lewis 1994), probably written by Calvin, in which the students were referred to as ‘scholastics’ (scholastici). Theodore Beza also used the same designation for the student body in his rectoral address that year. The Statutes describe the life of the student–teacher community and carry with it all the marks and practices of a scholastic community.

In this and other Protestant educational contexts, the term ‘scholastic’ was synonymous with ‘academic’ and used in a neutral sense to refer to certain academic standards and methods that governed institutional and educational goals. However, that there was a clear sense of a nonpejorative use of the term did not mean that all things carrying the name scholastic were considered a good or legitimate intellectual practice. Just as we may today identify good and bad examples of academic theology, so did the Protestants from the mid-sixtenth century and on in their own time period.

From its inception, the Protestant Reformation voiced criticism not only against Rome’s theology but also against its scholasticism, to the point that the two may seem to be the same thing. Martin Luther’s Disputation against the Scholastic Theologians (see Luther 1962) reflects an attitude many of his generation of reformers shared. Some earlier scholars have therefore concluded that the early reform efforts were destroyed when later Protestantism ‘went back’ to medieval scholastic thought patterns (Armstrong 1969; Hall 1966; Schweitzer 1854). One version of this perspective claimed that, in the hands of Protestant scholastics, Protestant faith and piety became a system governed by a ‘central dogma’. Otto Gründler, for instance, argued that the early Reformed scholastic, Jerome Zanchi, perverted Calvin’s christocentrism and made predestination the central dogma for the Reformed system of theology, formulated in metaphysical and causal categories, foreign to scripture and Christian piety (Gründler 1965).

Reformation scholarship since the mid-twentieth century has gradually revised older historiographical approaches (Van Asselt 2011b; Van Asselt and Dekker 2001; Beeke 1999; Muller 2003: 382–420 [vol. 4]; 2008). Three important things need to be mentioned here about this new line of research. First, it distinguishes between scholasticism as a method and scholasticism with regard to its content. Scholasticism as a method is a quite neutral term, as we shall see. The Protestant scholastics primarily employed scholastic methods without thereby necessarily adopting the theological content of medieval scholastic theology. This explains, at least to some degree, why Luther and other first-generation reformers continued to invoke scholastic terminology and methodology while attacking ‘scholastic theology’. Second, due to this distinction, it is worth pointing out what may seem trivial yet is crucial: not all the Protestant orthodox theologians were wholly scholastic in their orientation (Muller 1995). Scholasticism was considered a legitimate method of teaching, defending, and expounding doctrine, but not the only one or suitable for all occasions. Thus, Protestant theologians understood scholasticism as one mode or genus of theology among others (homiletical, pastoral, ecclesial, exegetical, historical, and so forth) (Beck 2016). Third, as mentioned above, earlier research assumed that the reformers deduced their theology from basic philosophical principles or some central dogma. Such descriptions simply do not accord with the writings or intention of the Protestant scholastics. Although Protestant scholasticism interacted deeply with philosophical ideas, the cognitive foundation (principium cognoscendi) of their theology remained Holy Scripture and not some notion of a central dogma or set of philosophical principles (Muller 2003 [vols 1 and 2]; Preus 1970: 254–262, 310–311; Hägglund 1951: 136–147; Van Asselt 2006).

However, Protestant theologians sometimes harshly criticized medieval scholastic theologians (Ballor 2017; Luy 2021; Sytsma 2021). In contrast to earlier scholarship, which attributed a strong discontinuity between the first-generation reformers and their medieval scholastic forerunners and the later Protestant scholastic theologians, more recent scholars have argued that the situation was far more complex. There is both continuity and discontinuity between medieval and Protestant scholasticism (Muller 2003). For instance, as the reformers began to define the Protestant movement doctrinally, they also began to evaluate individual medieval theologians and theological ideas. Some of the first-generation of reformers, like Martin Bucer (1491–1551) and Lambert Daneus (1530–1590), introduced a distinction between (in their estimation) the saner or sounder scholastics (saniores/puroris scholastici) and the corrupt or impure scholastic theologians. In their estimation, the medieval scholastics were, on certain topics, also useful sources for Protestant theology (Sinnema 1986; Sytsma 2021). At least from the 1530s, Calvin and Melanchthon would publicly follow Bucer and Danaeus in this sort of assessment of scholastic theologians, placing, for example, Thomas Aquinas and Gregory of Rimini among the sounder scholastics. In line with assessment, the reformers also claimed the ‘better part’ of patristic legacy as part of their project (Meijering 1996; Stewart 2006; Trueman 2021). These distinctions highlight the reformers’ desire to uphold the catholic character of Protestant orthodoxy.

Another important factor behind this scholarly reorientation is the research of Paul Oscar Kristeller (1979) and Charles Schmitt (1984), whose insights into the relation between Renaissance humanism and scholasticism have proven valuable. The two intellectual traditions coexisted in European intellectual and educational contexts during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, despite their differences in style of communication, pedagogy, and approach to ancient sources (Van Asselt 2011c; Lagerlund and Hill 2017). It could even be argued that the creative combination of humanist and scholastic approaches contributed to some of Protestant scholasticism’s unique characteristics.

Richard Muller has underscored the importance of the development of Protestant scholasticism:

Protestantism would hardly have survived had it not developed, in the era of orthodoxy, a normative and defensible body of doctrine consisting of a confessional foundation and systematic elaboration. The contribution of the orthodox or scholastic theologians to the history of Protestantism, then, was the creation of an institutional theology, confessionally in continuity with the Reformation and doctrinally, in the larger system of doctrine, in continuity with the great tradition of the church. (Muller 2003: 27 [vol. 1])

This continuity, Muller continues to point out, is not a mere duplication of the Reformation tradition, since it is both ‘like and unlike that of the reformation […] but developing in a systematic and scholastic fashion different from the patterns of the Reformation and frequently reliant on the forms and methods of thirteenth, fourteenth and fifteenth centuries’ (Muller 2003: 28 [vol. 1]). The Protestant scholastics did not uncritically adopt medieval categories but used them ‘eclectically’ in defence of Protestant orthodoxy, in service of the growing Protestant scholarly community, and as a training ground for pastors.

As the Reformation developed and spread across Europe, Protestant theologians employed and further developed scholastic methods, principles, and sources to defend and expound Protestant orthodoxy. This implied a communicative advantage since Protestant and Roman Catholic scholasticism shared certain significant characteristics. Both sides:

1. recognized a value in the medieval school theologies and methodologies, but also developed these for their particular purposes and contexts;
2. found a common cause against the Radical Reformation (Socianism) and emerging Enlightenment philosophies (Cartesianism, Empiricism);
3. embraced elements of humanistic learning in their scholasticism (for example, linguistic studies).

These commonalities further facilitated their exchange as they shared a common set of tools and sources that could be put to work in the defence of their respective doctrinal positions. Moreover, Protestant scholastic theologians not only read but also engaged the Roman Catholic scholastics of their day critically and would sometimes quote them on points where they agreed (Van Asselt and Dekker 2001).

Although scholasticism was part of the Protestant educational contexts from the beginning, contemporary scholarly literature tends to track the beginning of a conscious or formal scholasticism to when the period of confessionalization was (more or less) completed, the reformational churches and educational institutional established and the passing of torch from the first and/or second generation reformers (the ‘codifiers’) to the second and/or third generation (the ‘perpetuators’). Muller thus divides Reformed scholasticism into three periods: early (1550–1620), high (1620–1720), and late (1720–1790) Protestant scholasticism, and each period of Reformed orthodoxy is further divided into subsections (Muller 2003: 3–102 [vol. 1]; Muller 1995; Van Asselt 2011c: 103–193). Robert Preus divides Lutheran scholasticism more comprehensively into the golden (1570–1620), high (1620–1650), and silver (1650–c. 1720) ages (Preus 1970: 44–71).

In the early and high periods/ages, the development of scholasticism went hand in hand with the completion and defence of the confessional standards (Beck 2016). Notable here is the development of an awareness of prolegomenous issues in theology (see section 2). In this phase, there is also an increasing interaction with the ‘new’ philosophies of the Enlightenment thinkers. Some Protestant theologians mixed Aristotelian with Cartesian conceptualities, resulting in a sort of ‘Reformed Cartesianism’, which caused a number of reactions on various fronts within the Protestant reformation (Verbeek 1992; Cellamare and Mantovani 2023; Cellamare 2020). (Modern research on Lutheran reactions to Cartesianism is still underdeveloped. Enoch Chow [2024] provides an assessment along with a useful bibliography of the state of research in both the Reformed and Lutheran theology.)

In the late period/silver age of scholasticism, Enlightenment philosophies – combined with an emphasis on the methods of natural science – gradually began to replace the scholastic method along with its metaphysical assumptions in the European academy at large and so also in Protestant institutions. In this late period there is a push towards fideism and even de-confessionalization among some leading Protestant theologians (Dennison 1999; Klauber 1994; Preus 1970: 64–65; Chow 2024) that gradually paved the way for a complete replacement of scholasticism as the dominant method in academic settings, eventually giving way to the modern research university which, arguably, generated a ‘fragmented’ view of theology as a discipline (Farley 2001).

2.1 Method in theology

As the Protestant scholastic tradition developed, attention was paid to the role of theological method. Methodological issues arise in many places in the reformers’ writings, although the second-generation reformers began a more sustained reflection in separate treaties on method (see Muller 2003: 177–220 [vol. 1]; Preus 1970: 72–142; Van Asselt 2011c; Van Asselt and Rouwendal 2011). Early influential sources that gave Protestant theologians an awareness of method were Melanchthon’s Loci communes (Common Places, 1521) and later his Erotema dialectices (Dialectical Questions, 1547). According to Melanchthon, the purpose of method was to find a proper ‘order’ (ordo) of theology and ‘a way through’ a certain area of inquiry. In his Loci communes, he followed the salvation-historical pattern of the ancient creeds. As Walter Ong (2004: 104–105) has pointed out, Melanchthon’s locus-method ultimately had its roots in Cicero’s idea of ‘topics’ (topoi), which in turn was a reworking of basic dialectical ideas drawn from Aristotle. Influential in this essentially humanist reception of the classical dialectical tradition was Petrus Ramus (1515–1572), who followed the lead of earlier humanists like Rudolph Agricola (1444–1485) and Melanchthon.

Humanists are (in)famous for their criticism of scholasticism, its abuses of Aristotle’s heritage and linguistic ‘barbarism’ (Ong 2004: 175, 207–208). Although Ramus at times also criticized Aristotle himself, he ultimately sought a better interpretation of him. He was, like many other humanists, interested in the philological and exegetical issues of Aristotle’s corpus as well as other ancient writers, like Cicero. This is an expression of the humanist call ad fontes! (‘To the sources!’). By studying Aristotle himself, and not through scholastic appropriations, he sought for the ‘true’ Aristotle. (The Italian Renaissance philosopher, Jacob Zabarella’s [1533–1589] influence is notable in these discussions; see Hägglund 1951: 51–54; Muller 2003: 184–189 [vol. 1].)

Ramus’ alternative method emphasized simplicity, pedagogy, and the utility of dialectics (Van Asselt and Rouwendal 2011: 92–94). Theology should, on this understanding, have a practical purpose concerned with how to live well (Ramus 1576: 6–10). Every topic or definition in this method was divided into its constituent parts or two propositions in order to facilitate teaching. The parts are likewise divided into their constituent parts until the topic under consideration has been suitably treated. Ramus’ method naturally lent itself to the inclusion of charts of bifurcated distinctions in printed books to give an overview of a topic or argument. Ramism became one among many tools in the Protestant scholastic’s toolbox and was not adopted without discernment. Its influence is perhaps strongest in the structuring of many theological works, notably in the works of Puritan thinkers William Perkins, Polanus, Bartholomäeus Keckerman, and William Ames (Sprunger 1966).

The mediating figure Andreas Hyperius’ (1511–1564) Methodus Theologiae, sive praecipium Christianae religionis communium (The Method of Theology, or the common precepts of the Christian Religion, 1568) signals a continuation of Melanchthon’s loci-method but also a shift in the ordering of the theological material that went beyond the salvation-historical pattern. Hyperius called his method ‘synthetic’ (synthetike) and ‘constitutive or compositive’ (constitutive seu compositiva) (Hyperius 1568: 15; Muller 2003: 179–181 [vol. 1]). The method moves from cause to effect, beginning with the first cause, God, through creation and salvation to their final cause or end, communion with God. A similar arrangement of loci became a dominant trend in later Protestant scholastics. For instance, writers such as Johan Gerhard (1582–1637) and Johan Meisner (1615–1681) in the Lutheran tradition preferred the synthetic method, as did Jerome Zanchi (1516–1590) and Francis Turretin (1623–1687) in the Reformed tradition.

The synthetic method was contrasted with the ‘analytic’ or ‘resolutive’ method, which begins with the final cause and works back to the means and the first cause of the universe (see Causality). An analytic ordering of theology thus begins with humanity’s final end, the blessed vision, and then turns to anthropology, the means and causes that will help humans to reach their ultimate goal in God. This approach was used, for instance, by the Reformed Bartholomäeus Keckerman (1572–1609) and the Lutheran Balthazar Mentzer (1565–1627) (Van Asselt and Rouwendal 2011: 95–98; Fluegge 2018: 63–65; Appold 2008: 95–96). Johann Gerhard had begun writing his Loci theologici in 1625 following the synthetic method. However, elsewhere Gerhard recommends the analytic method. Fluegge suggests that Gerhard’s understanding of theology as a practical discipline would perhaps have married better with the analytic method, but Gerhard had not come to that realization when he began writing Loci (Fluegge 2018: 64, 139). Ultimately, it appears that there was no real conflict between these two approaches, and some writers, like the Dutch reformer Lucas Trelcatius (1542–1602), combined them, as Calvin had arguably already done in his Institutio Christianae Religionis (Institutes of the Christian Religion, 1559).

Older scholarship sought to put an absolute opposition between the metaphysical and a priori synthetic method and the ‘anti-metaphysical’ a posteriori analytic method. But there is plenty of evidence that this opposition does not hold for the Protestant scholastic writers. As we will see, writers like Keckerman preferred the analytic method but combined it with a serious attention to metaphysics.

It is worth noting at this juncture that, for the Protestant scholastics, spiritual and moral aspects of the Christian life were an integral part of their scholastically oriented writings (Goudriaan 2013). This is not necessarily connected to the analytic/synthetic distinction but a general concern for piety evident in Protestant scholastic works as well as the formation of theologians. Their overall aim, to which methodologies had to be adapted, was to demonstrate that Protestant theology was dogmatically catholic and intellectually defensible, as well as spiritually rich (Muller 2003: 130–136, 144–145 [vol. 1]; Beeke 1999; McGraw 2019: 183–193). For instance, the tradition of ‘practical divinity’ in English Puritanism owes much to Jerome Zanchi’s scholastic works, not least his vast treaties on God, De Natura Dei (On the Nature of God, Zanchi 1617–1619: I, ii; Lindholm 2017a). The work was translated into English and became a frequently consulted by the English clergy. Zanchi’s treatment of each divine attribute included a section on the ‘use of the doctrine’ (usus doctrinae) for Christian life. Patrick O’Bainion has demonstrated that this, in part, undermines older historiographical views of Zanchi and his scholastic colleagues as overly interested in metaphysics and as divorcing theology from piety. For instance, Otto Gründler claimed that ‘it would be possible to present Zanchi’s teaching on scripture, God, creation, providence, and predestination without ever mentioning Christ, and they would suffer little or no distortion from doing so’ (O'Banion 2005: 99, quoting Gründler). The same pastoral tendency is evident in the writing of Lutheran scholastics as well, like Johann Gerhard and Abraham Calov (1612–1686) (Preus 1970: 204–205; Appold 2010).

2.2 The use of philosophy

Related to the focus on method was the question of how to properly formulate the relation between faith and reason – or what is very much the same thing in their discussions, theology and philosophy. Due to Luther’s and Calvin’s attacks on philosophy and scholasticism, their followers were bound to give critical attention to the role of philosophy in theology. Theological instruction, especially in its scholastic form, should not get lost in vain speculation and curiosity (Muller 2003: 31–32 [vol. 1]). Protestant scholasticism here echoes, for instance, Augustine (Confessions X, 35, 54–57; Augustine of Hippo 1991) and later Aquinas (Summa Theologiae [ST] II-II: q. 167) caution against vain questioning and undue curiosity that can emerge in scholarly work. Thus, they warned against human sinful and misdirected desire to study not for the knowledge of truth (Leinsle 2010: 24–25).

There was a great variety in the way the reformers sought to formulate a proper relation between philosophy and theology, both in practice and in prolegomenous discourse. For instance, Luther’s closest ally in Wittenberg, Melanchthon, had (seemingly with Luther’s approval) advocated that Aristotle be taught in the Protestant schools, especially his ethics, logic, and rhetoric, to facilitate instruction and teaching. However, metaphysics was in this early phase considered superfluous or problematic for theological instruction (Augustijn 2001). Another early example was the influential Italian Reformed theologian, Peter Martyr Vermigli (1499–1562), who explicitly brought his humanist and Thomistic training from Padua (Gaetano 2017) and a certain penchant for metaphysics to bear on his theological writings (Sytsma 2018; Donnelly 1975: 13–41, 170–207; Donnelly 1976a; 1976b). Vermigli argued that there is no objection to ‘true philosophy’ (vera philosophia) and that not even the apostle Paul (Col 2:8) would object to that. The real problem is not philosophy as such but the erroneous use of philosophy.

2.3 Prolegomena and Protestant scholastic theology

In this section, we shall highlight three sets of theological distinctions associated with the development of Protestant scholastic prolegomena. That is, the distinction between:

• revealed and natural theology
• true and false theology
• archetypal and ectypal theology

The first two will be touched on briefly, and the third will be addressed at some length.

First, when setting the stage for theology as an intellectual discipline, the traditional distinction between natural and supernatural theology was made. Modern theologians have sometimes assumed that historical Reformed and Lutheran theology rejected natural theology. However, that is at worst a misconception and at best a somewhat ambiguous conception when one considers the historical sources (Rehnman 2002; Preus 1970: 173–180; Preus 1972: 33–45; Muller 2003: 270–310 [vol. 1]). As we have seen, Protestant scholastics allowed an instrumental use of philosophical reasoning and, therefore, also acknowledged that natural theology has some validity. In general, they tended to distinguish between two sorts of natural theology: one that was based on innate principles or awareness of the divine in human nature, a ‘sense of the divine’ (sensus divinitatis), and another that reasoned from external principles of the universe (such as causes, design, or ends) to the existence of God (Platt 1982; Muller 2003: 270–310 [vol. 1]).

Protestant scholastic presentations of the doctrine of God often proceed from natural to revealed theology proper (the nature, attributes, and person of God). This step in doctrinal exposition, however, was not intended as a way to epistemically justify revealed theology by an appeal to natural theology. As mentioned above, the epistemic principle for theology was scripture, and (due to the cognitive consequences of sin) natural reason is not fit to provide salvific and true knowledge of God. Natural theology served other ends, for instance, to render unbelievers without excuse before God and to build a ‘bridge’ to secular learning (Preus 1970: 174). Therefore, the time spent on natural theology in Protestant lecture halls was limited during early Protestant scholasticism. Eventually, however, due to the challenges posed by Enlightenment ideas, a more apologetic approach was adopted in the public sphere. The deism and atheism of the Enlightenment thinkers drove Protestant theologians in the latter seventeenth century beyond merely basing their arguments on innate principles or logical demonstration from general principles; they also added to these ‘external’ proofs, combined with rhetorical tropes, exegesis, and appeals to history and human experience, in order to refute and convince the unbelievers. An interesting case in point here is the Puritan Stephen Charnock (1628–1680). His approach to natural theology is not separate from revealed theology. The same is true of many of the Protestant scholastics, who mingled exegetical with philosophical proofs. Charnock took this trajectory to the next level in the pulpit (Trueman 2008; Gutierrez 2017: 56–83).

Related to the distinction between natural and revealed theology, a second, broad distinction was made between true and false theology (theologia vera et falsa) (see City of God VI.v–viii; Augustine of Hippo 2003). False theology was identified with all types of theology that did not have their origin in divine revelation. (Hence, the designation ‘false’ here does not mean that natural theology is completely devoid of truth or value; the central problem was that it was considered sufficient for salvation.) The term ‘theology’ is understood etymologically in the widest sense, including the way it has been used by the pagan poets, statesmen, and philosophers as well as the Jews and the Muslims and also the (pseudo-Christian) heretics (Muller 2003: 158–161 [vol. 1]). Such a broad classification constituted a bulwark against all forms of unorthodox confessions and religious expressions that either had their origin in human reason, opinions, and vain imagination, or in a corruption of divine revelation.

Third, true theology was then divided into archetypal (or prototypical) and ectypal theology (Muller 2003: 229–238, 248–255 [vol. 1]; Van Asselt 2002; Preus 1970: 110). The division between archetypal and ectypal theology has patristic, medieval, and early Reformation origins, but it seems that it was the Reformed theologian Franciscus Junius (1545–1602) who first developed it explicitly and systematically in De theologia vera (A Treatise on True Theology, 1594; see Junius 2014). The distinction was present, for instance, in an implicit form in Aquinas and Duns Scotus. However, it is a matter of scholarly debate which of the medieval masters might have been the major influence on Junius here. Sinnema (1975: 72–73) argues that it was Aquinas, due to Junius’ Thomist training, whereas van Asselt perceives traces of Scotistic concept in Junius (Van Asselt 2014: xxxiii; Lee 2024: 5–12; Sytsma 2021: 134). Whatever the case, as this distinction became significant for Protestant scholastics after Junius (e.g. Polanus 1610: I.iii–xiv), we shall follow Junius’ reasoning and take note of some theological issues implicit in it.

In line with the majority view, Junius assumes that theology is a kind of wisdom, and claims that theology primarily and preeminently exists in God: ‘Archetypal theology is the divine wisdom of divine matters. Indeed, we stand in awe before this and do not seek to trace it out’ (2014: 107). He elaborates:

For this, theology is not present in God by parts nor successively, nor does it vary in itself, but exists in proportion to God Himself. It exists with His essence simultaneously, indivisible and immutable. By the same evident reason, His eternal wisdom is devoid of parts, and succession and of all motion. It is uncommunicable, for it is a unique characteristic of deity, and accordingly cannot be shared with any created thing, or communicated to anything afterward that is something different from God. (Junius 2014: 110–111)

This quote reveals some fundamental tenets of the Protestant scholastics’ understanding of theology and its rootedness in a classical conception of God as simple, immutable, infinite, and so on (Muller 2003: 271–365 [vol. 3]; Preus 1972: 52–11; Schmid 2020: 107–135; Mayes 2011; Heppe 2010: 57–104). God’s knowledge is described as non-discursive since the divine uncreated nature is simple. Human beings are rational creatures who have knowledge in a manner grounded in their metaphysical status as composed. This contrasts with God’s ‘simple knowledge’, which is not of an ‘empirical’ or ‘dialectical’ kind in that it would receive the form of a thing through abstracting it from sensible data, assent to some proposition or reason syllogistically from one proposition to another. Instead, God knows directly and immutably through himself, not through anything else. Therefore, strictly speaking, archetypal theology is incommunicable to any created being.

Yet, despite such a strong distinction between the finite and the infinite, Junius does not deny that there are finite or created forms of theology. The incommunicability concerns a certain mode or manner of knowledge. Archetypal theology is not communicated to creation in the same manner that it exists in God. Ectypal knowledge is communicated in a finite manner as it is revealed through God’s actions in creation and redemption and recorded in Holy Scripture. Thus, due to the radical transcendence of God, the theology found in created rational beings leads us to humility and doxology. Human theology is merely a ‘secondary offspring’ of archetypal theology, which we ‘must worship rather than seek to trace out’ (Junius 2014: 108).

Junius is careful to note that finite theology is communicated ‘according to the capacity of the created things themselves’ (2014: 117, 165). There are thus three levels of communicated theology in proportion to the capacities of created subjects. The highest form of communication of theology is that of Christ. This is called ‘the theology of union’ (theologia unionis). According to Junius, Christ’s human nature has the highest capacity for receiving communicated divine wisdom through the hypostatic union. The second level of communication is that of the angels and spiritual beings (for example, the blessed in heaven), which is called ‘theology of vision’, and the third is that of fallen human beings, called ‘theology of revelation’. This third level of theology was sometimes described as ‘our theology’ (theologia nostra), and ‘theology of pilgrims’, since it concerns the mode of knowledge of God that human beings can have on their way towards their final end in God.

So how then is ‘our theology’ received or exemplified in the human subject? Junius, as the majority of the other Protestant scholastics, also asserted that our theology is a ‘disposition’ (habitus) in the human mind, whose efficient cause is God (Muller 2003: 355–360 [vol. 1]; Fluegge 2018: 77–82). With regard to the Lutheran scholastics, Preus remarks that

[t]he theological habitus, then, is both a posture and an attitude, and an aptitude and ability; it is not passive or dormant but active (Heb 5:14). Thus, for Calov and all the Lutheran theologians theology resides, strictly speaking according to its genus, not in a book but in the mind of the theologian. (Preus 1970: 195)

Defining theology in this way situates it as an academic discipline in relation to Aristotle’s taxonomy of five sorts or genera of knowledge: art, science, prudence, wisdom, and intelligence (Nicomachean Ethics VI.3-8:1139b-1142a; Aristotle 1995). These kinds of knowledge express five dispositions of the mind. The Protestant scholastics are here conversant with patristic and medieval traditions in their attempt to understand theology in this broadly Aristotelian context.

Related to the notion of theology as some kind of habitus is the question of how to locate it among the academic disciplines, as either ‘theoretical’ or ‘practical’. In the discourse of the time, these terms meant something different than they do today. Theoretical science was modelled on Aristotle’s deductive view of science, and practical science pertained to moral actions and attitudes. So, is theology (primarily) concerned with scientific knowledge of its object (God) or with our attitudes and actions toward God and our fellow human beings? Aquinas had defined theology as theoretical (with some qualifications), whereas John Duns Scotus argued that theology cannot be said to have the demonstrative character of an Aristotelian science and is therefore most properly said to be a kind of wisdom, and is to be considered a practical science (Aquinas ST: I.1 art. 4; Duns Scotus Ordinatio, prol. 5.1–2 in Opera Omnia [1950–]). However, Aquinas also talks about theology in terms of wisdom, seemingly without contradicting its scientific or demonstrative character. Hence, picking up a line from Junius above, what is the meaning of wisdom here?

Protestant scholastics were indebted to these medieval discussions about the nature of theology (see e.g. Turretin 1997: I.vi.4, 6–7) and agreed that theology cannot be neatly placed in any of the categories of knowledge. Although we can observe a variety of approaches to this fundamental conundrum, there is general agreement that theology is most akin to science (scientia) and wisdom (sapientia). Yet theology was characterized as having some relation to other kinds of knowledge as well (Tipton 2022: 80–85; Rehnman 2002: 96–104; Muller 2003: 324–339 [vol. 1]; Van Asselt 2002: 326). For instance, according to Amandus Polanus (1561–1610), theology is primarily a kind of wisdom, and therefore

a composite disposition that embraces the other mental dispositions: through understanding, assenting to principles [intelligentia]; scientific knowledge [scientia], deriving conclusions and deductions from principles; employing Christian works through craft [ars]; rightly directing and governing all things toward piety and life by prudence [prudentia]. (Polanus 1610: I, xiii, col. 81D)

Protestant writers exemplify a quite astonishing degree of difference on this issue, however, without it leading to serious internal conflicts among them. Some, like Keckerman, argued that theology is a ‘mixed discipline’, closest to prudence since it deals with the subject of how to lead a Christian life that aims at salvation (1615: I.9–12).

These three general divisions of theology were received and put to use by the Protestant scholastic theologians (Muller 2003: 225–237 [vol. 1]). The Reformed theologian, Gisbertus Voetius (1589–1676), for instance, claimed that ectypal theology is a finite copy of prototypical theology that ‘participates’ in God’s theology. Andreas Beck has argued that Voetius here extends Melanchthon’s use of the Logos to illuminate our logos (Beck 2010: 117–118) (a notion similar to that of Eastern Orthodox theosis). Hence, our participation in archetypal theology is mediated through Christ by his ‘theology of union’.

According to Preus, Gerhard was the first major Lutheran theologian to use Junius’ distinctions (Preus 1970: 112–114, 164–172) and through him they found their way into Lutheran prolegomena. Later, Calov applied the theology of union in a different way that reflects a Lutheran dogmatic distinctive. He argued that Christ did not merely possess the highest form of ectypal or finite theology but also had archetypal theology communicated to his human nature (Preus 1970: 164–172). Calov’s theological move highlights the implications of the debate about the two natures of Christ between Lutherans and Reformed in the context of his prolegomena (Preus 1970: 167–172; Muller 2003: 248–258 [vol. 1]). Both Protestant groups confess the classical christological formula of the Council of Chalcedon (451) but interpret its so-called four ‘negative adverbs’ differently. According to Chalcedon, the person of Christ is to be ‘recognized in two natures, without confusion, without change, without division, without separation’ (Tanner 1990: 86 [vol. 1]). The ascription of archetypal theology to Christ’s human nature would seem to potentially conflict with the Chalcedonian negatives ‘without confusion, without change’, since omniscience traditionally (in medieval, Lutheran, and Reformed theology proper) was seen as an incommunicable attribute due to the simplicity and unity of the divine nature (Aquinas ST: I, q. 3, 14; Preus 1972: 52–74, 108–109).

In the generation before Gerhard, Martin Chemnitz had formulated what became the official Lutheran christological position. He argued that in the incarnation there was a communication of ‘majesty’ (Chemnitz 1971: chs 21–27; Formula of Concord: ch. 7; Kilckrease 2013). Due to the personal union of divinity and humanity in Christ, the properties of the divine nature had been communicated ‘in reality’ (realiter) to the human nature. Christ’s human nature had been enriched not only with finite but also with divine prerogatives, such as omnipotence and ubiquity. Chemnitz explicitly argued that this ‘genus of majesty’ (genus maiestaticum) included the communication of omniscience or divine wisdom to the human nature (1971: 329–330). In support of the majestic genus, Chemnitz to a large extent took his cue from the Eastern church father John of Damascus’ (676–749) view on deification and perichoresis. He also argued that most medieval scholastics had ‘later departed from old paths which were delineated and marked out by Damascus’ (Chemnitz 1971: 382).

Interestingly, Calov’s attribution of archetypal theology to the human nature of Christ was foreboded by Chemnitz. As Preus aptly commented:

All the results of Lutheran Christology now came under the compass of prolegomena, and we see that theology proper and prolegomena are thoroughly entwined. Prolegomena may set the stage for theologizing, but it is not worked out in a vacuum before dogmatic conclusions have been reached. Rather, although it articulates the presuppositions and approaches to theology and dogmatics, it is dependent on exegesis and dogmatics. Logically, it precedes dogmatics, as it [for instance, prolegomena] is worked out, it follows dogmatics. (Preus 1970: 167)

Hence, it was only natural that Calov would later draw out the christological implications in his prolegomena.

The Reformed scholastics argued that the majestic genus would undermine the integrity of Christ’s finite and composite human nature (Muller 2003: 248–255 [vol. 1]). They therefore denied that the human nature of Christ has archetypal theology. Christ possesses two kinds of knowledge: one habitual and finite in his human nature, and one simple and infinite in his divine nature. The Son thus retains his archetypal knowledge in his divine nature and assumes ectypal knowledge in the incarnation without any ‘comingling of confusion’.

The debate over this christological issue (and many other dogmatic and prolegomenous issues as well) was conditioned by two operative principles in the debates between Lutherans and Reformed. The Reformed argued (i) that the finite is not capable of grasping or receiving the infinite (finitum non capax infinitum) and (ii) that the divine Logos was also outside of the flesh (Logos etiam extra carnem) (Lindholm 2016: 124–139; Drake 2021). In various ways, the Lutherans tended to reject or relativize these principles, at least in Christology.

Although the Reformed rejected the majestic genus since it seemed to compromise the distinction between the finite and the infinite, they did accept a finite and supernatural form of communication to the human nature in Christ. A number of the Reformed theologians held that Christ’s human nature was enriched by its union to the Son and therefore had ‘finite extraordinary gifts’ communicated to it ‘without measure’ (Isaiah 11). Some Reformed theologians even agreed, for instance, with Aquinas’ seemingly strong claim that Christ, in his human nature, knew all actual things past, present, and future but not everything that God could have done (Lindholm 2017b: 149). Despite such an elevation of the human nature, Reformed theologians did not think that this constituted a case of communication of divine majesty (Heppe 2010: 434–438; Lindholm 2017b). A rather interesting case is John Owen’s so-called ‘Spirit Christology’. Owen was careful not to elevate Christ’s human nature, seeking to secure a genuinely human development during Christ’s earthly life. According to theologians like Alan Spence (2007) and Oliver Crisp (2011), the only work that Owen attributed to the Son was the act of assuming the human nature. All the following supernatural work in Christ’s human nature was attributed to the Holy Spirit. Ty Kieser (2024) has recently critiqued this understanding of Owen’s Christology as being too narrowly focused and bordering on Nestorianism, and has provided a reading of Owen which seeks to place him more in the mainline of Reformation Christology.

As these example show, Reformed theologians found space within their prolegomenous commitment to develop their christological anthropology with significant variation and without internal conflict. Their conflict was with Rome, the Lutherans, and the Socinians on such matters. Above all, the Reformed were careful not to overstep the boundaries of the Creator–creation distinction set down in their prolegomena, thereby disassociating their position with what they perceived as ‘comingling’ of the divine and human in Lutheran theology.

This section has shown some ways in which the Protestant scholastic prolegomena addressed theological and philosophical issues that arose in their time. There is both evidence of unity and diversity within the two magisterial Protestant wings, as well as continuity and discontinuity with regard to their contemporaries and their medieval forebearers. We have, for instance, seen how they were attentive to the ways in which certain Protestant theological distinctives took priority over and shaped the particular uses of method and reason. We have also seen that they were not merely aware of but extended and developed medieval and patristic notions in new ways, as the three divisions of theology we have looked at indicate. When scholasticism is viewed as a long tradition of developing methods or approaches (among others) to theology, such unity and diversity, continuity and discontinuity, are hardly surprising.