On two separate occasions this year—HERE and HERE—I’ve invited you to our own version of the Inklings featuring a massive dining table filled with all the well-known and not-so-well-known teachers, preachers, theologians, and revolutionaries from the Reformation. We’ve dinned with Theodore Beza, the French reformed pastor and professor who succeeded John Calvin as leader of the French Reformed ecclesial communities; the Dominican friar turned Reformer Martin Bucer; in the corner sat famed Martin Luther nursing a second (or perhaps fifth?) German Doppelbock; Dutch humanist and scholar Desiderius Erasmus got the evil eye several times from Luther across the room; and then there was John Calvin who was often seen in heated debates with Jacobus Arminius over predestination and divine foreknowledge.
At our first soirée, we were treated to a rousing discussion of Galatians & Ephesians. The second was another, equally fascinating discussion, this time on the Old Testament prophetic books of Ezekiel and Daniel. Well, now we’re in for a real treat, because today’s invite concerns one of the most important books in the OT cannon: Genesis, particularly the primeval history (chapters 1-11). Like before this will be quite the party, and you’re invited to experience it through IVP’s new Reformation Commentary on Scripture series, a copy of which I was given by IVP to review.
As I said before, this new series is similar in scope and vision to the highly acclaimed Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture series. It’s like a dinner party with the greatest, most influential thinkers of the Reformation era all brought together to share their insights and interpretations and give their input into the ongoing exegetical and theological mission of the Church in the 21st century. And you’re invited into the party to follow along with their discussion, even joining in at times with your pushback, revisions, and extensions.
In this particular dinner party invite, John Thompson invites pastors, scholars, and students to understand why Genesis 1-11 was so crucial in Reformation-era preaching, interpretation, and theologizing. Like the two before it, this volume creates an intimate opportunity for readers to grasp the biblical, theological, and pastoral minds of the Reformation as they engage some of the fundamental theological and biblical issues of the Christian faith—Creation and Fall.
So pull up a chair, grab a coffee or—depending on what time of day it is—alcoholic drink of choice in the spirit of Luther himself and drink in the Reformation ruminations around the table on our crucial book of the evening.
As with Galatians & Ephesians and Ezekiel and Daniel, Thompson’s commentary begins with a general introduction to the series and a healthy, specific introduction to Reformation engagement with Genesis 1-11. The general introduction, written by Timothy George, the series editor, delves into an overview of the Reformation itself—which they, appropriately, begin in the late 1400’s; establishes the historical context surrounding the Reformation era—which includes the medieval legacy and resurgence of sacred philology; and engages everything Reformation, from patterns within the movement to specific interpretive schools with a final evaluation of the task and challenge of reading Scripture with the Reformers.
Then, Thompson takes the reader through a well-established 30-page introduction of our book. Unlike modern commentaries, though, this is not an introduction to Genesis itself. Instead Thompson introduces how Genesis was interpreted and appropriated by the Reformers. He also anticipates questions concerning why we should engage old commentaries on Genesis, particularly those from the Reformation. Of old commentaries, Thompson continues the arguement of the Reformers themselves: God gave us the insights of ancient writers alongside the Holy Spirit to exegete Scripture. (xliv) For the Reformers—as should be the case for us—”the continuity of the church, past and present, was a crucial tenet.” Thus, “we need to absorb the legacy of both the Fathers and the reformers—not to parrot them, but to be formed by their witness and spirit as part of one continuous body of Christ that flourishes also in our day.” This is why the Reformation and Ancient commentary series are vital to the church of today, vital to the ministries of pastors of today.
From here, Thompson explores some general exegetical and theological themes of the Reformation, places their exegesis in the history of Genesis interpretation, and ends with a strong summation of major Reformation themes. This final section covers everything you would expect: creation, fall, the two lines of descent, Noah and the flood, and Babel. He also provides some sane, sound guidance for anyone seeking to engage the material in this commentary: context matters. He rightly suggests that “visiting the past, like visiting any foreign country, is best practiced by some serious study of the local history, geography, and cultural distinctives.” (xlvi) Thus, the reader should guard against running to this volume to “recruit allies” for their particular exegetical interpretations of key Genesis passages. This commentary and its brother series serves the Church best when read through the lens of context. So reader, beware!
Before attending to our little faux-party itself, I will also add that at the end of this Reformation commentary is an excellent appendix-like section filled with a helpful map of the Reformation period, a very helpful timeline of the major movements and movers of the Reformation itself, and well-done, breif biographical sketches of the Reformation-era figures. There’s even an author and Scripture index to fullfill your quick-look up needs.
OK, now we’re ready to engage the major exegetical and theological themes of discussion that float around our fictitious dinner party. It’s hard to review commentaries, though, because you neither read a commentary like a book nor engage one that way. So as I do with every commentary I review, I’m going to do what most people do when they get a new commentary—at least what I do when I get a new commentary: go to personal pet pericopes to see what’s there. This evening’s selection comes in light of two important contemporary issues: the creation of humanity in Genesis 1:26 and the fall of humanity in 3:1-6.
Bon appétit!
So let’s wander over to one table engaged in a noisy discussion about our human identity as image bearers. Like the early church, this concept was a big one for the Reformation. Johannes Brenz starts our discussion: “When God says, ‘Let us make humankind,’ we should understand the Father to be speaking to the Son and the Holy Spirit…it was concluded and ordained that humankind would be created in the image and likeness of God, and that they would be partakers of the divine blessedness and preside over all the other creatures on earth, in the sea and in the sky,” and then Brenz adds this, “and thus be like God on earth.” (41)
The ever ambitious Huldrych Zwingli jumps in to extend Brenz’s remarks on “making” humankind: “When he wished to create humankind, God employed much deliberation and great counsel…He fortified his speech with weighty words, saying, ‘Let us make!’ We are thus to discern, first of all, the divine nature in the special character of its persons; and second we should learn of our own nobility and dignity.” And then Zwingli stands up and grips one hand as if to add emphasis this next point: “For even if man was made from earth, God nonetheless made him with his own hand, so that we might see how highly God regarded humans, so that humans might serve their creator alone, worship him alone!” (42)
Before moving on, we’ve got time for one more listen. And who better to give our one more listen than John Calvin himself? He decides to jump into the fray by denying what many interpreters argue regarding the image and likeness of God. As Calvin says, “It suits most of them, if not all to distinguish image from likeness.” He even goes after Augustine as speculating far too cleverly: “If any readers have the leisure and wish to be amused by such speculations, let them read the tenth and fourteenth books of On the Trinity and the eleventh book of The City of God.” (49) As you get up and go to switch it up you hear Calvin in the background vociferously deny that image of God differs from His likeness. Ahh, Calvin!
As you wander over to the other side of the room, your ears perk at the sound of a female voice, that of Anna Maria van Schurman. The Reformation wasn’t known for many female voices, so you promptly find a seat and listen to a beautiful poem on the Fall:
They left their first duty when
their proper Lord they disowned,
turned God into their enemy,
and stood upon their own.
Yet when without their God
they tried alone to live,
God could not equip them—
no new powers he could give.
Not for this did God give strength,
nor for this did they arise;
wanting so to be the first,
they fashioned their own demise.
To be nothing and to do nothing,
the truth not to abide,
these alone are the attributes
to the creature justly ascribed.
It was not doing, doing nothing,
when they needed most to fight:
truly, that was what they undertook
to land themselves in this plight.
The sound of God’s command
thereafter vanished from their ears,
they took no thought of how God
once in voice to them appeared
as one who passes by;
perhaps it was that they surmised
they heard not the Creator,
but some creature they despised.
Reckoning themselves too burdened
by that heavenly threat,
their conceited hearts were captured
in prides insidious net. (127-128)
When she was finished, van Schurman sat down before a crowd of silence. Leave it up to a woman to leave a male-dominated crowd speechless! What profound poetry, what insight. And with that the conversation turned to things less formal, because how could you follow that up with any insight remotely striking?
As with our two previous dinner parties, this one must also come to an end. Thankfully, in the case of this Reformation Commentary on Genesis 1-11, the conversation can still continue because the folks at IVP have done a masterful job of creating a useful, usable resource for scholars, students, and pastors alike. Obviously, this is not meant to be a foundational commentary text for exegesis, but a supplemental one—and I’d say a fine supplemental one at that. I wish more pastors—and more scholars for that matter—would engage the great thinkers of the past in their exegetical, homiletical enterprise in order to remind people of how the Church has always understood and talked about what is central to the Christian faith. This commentary will at least provide the Reformation voice, which shouldn’t trump all other voices, but shouldn’t be neglected nonetheless.
