Radix - Current Issue

The order of service during Reformed church services still reflects the time of its origin. A liturgical order that was a reaction to the prevailing Roman Catholic practice and subsequently arrived in the Netherlands in an adapted form via refugee communities, acquired sacrosanct status over the centuries. The illogical elements and austere character of that order were reinforced by tradition and have long confirmed the distinct identity of the Reformed community. In doing so, Calvin’s path has been followed, but a number of his principles have been neglected. For example, with regard to the reading schedule, congregational singing and the celebration of the Lord’s Supper, the churches of the Reformed tradition deviate significantly from Calvin’s ideas. In particular, his ability and courage to adapt the order of service to local traditions and customs does not seem to have been followed in the course of history, even though this is precisely where the opportunity lies to keep the liturgical order relevant and up to date.

Since the rise of the European far right in recent decades, an academic and public debate has emerged to what extent the far right is a cause or a symptom of the degeneration of western democracies. Since then, the use of the term chaos in political rhetoric – by both left-wing and right-wing politicians – as a means to accuse opponents of disrupting the societal and political order, appears to have increased. This article critically reflects on the concepts of order and chaos in relation to the governmental forms of democracy and autocracy. It answers the question: can the democratic legal order of our society withstand the threatening chaos of nascent autocrats? It argues that this question is difficult to answer unequivocally as it is based on an apparent contradiction between order and chaos – concepts that are not easily linked to either democracy or autocracy. Furthermore, it argues that the experience of order or chaos depends on three factors: level of knowledge, perspective and interests of the person making the judgement. Therefore, it concludes that the use of the term chaos in politics says less about the actual political order than about the speakers’ own position.

What if a leader refuses to bend his neck? This question, exemplified in the stubbornness of Creon, is a fundamental theme in Sophocles’ famous Antigone. Inheriting a city in chaos, he is determined to install order – come what may. Creon allows no disturbances of his power, let alone that he acknowledges any boundary to the political realm. Politics is everywhere. Gods and relatives included. In an era marked by stubborn leaders, sometimes with very tragic consequences, this essay examines the dynamics behind ‘creonism’. It argues that one of the most effective strategies to break the power of such leaders, is to present them with a realm that is not within their power whatsoever. In Sophocles’ tragedy, it is Antigone who symbolizes this type of resistance. Her appeal to the eternal law of the gods, which she deems valid regardless of the decree that Creon issues, draws a border to forms of power that totalize life. Although Antigone is just as stubborn as Creon, her refusal highlights the importance of cultivating a realm outside the scope of mere politics. If we fail to do so, so this essay argues, we risk surrendering every aspect of (communal) life to the grip of a creonistic leader.

This article explores the significance of the Newtonian world system in relation to eighteenth-century thought. On the one hand, Newton’s work is employed for apologetic purposes; on the other, a growing conviction emerges that the Newtonian laws governing motion are sufficient to uphold cosmic order. While Newton – like Descartes – believed that matter is essentially passive, requiring divine intervention to set it in motion, a fundamental shift occurs: matter is increasingly seen as inherently active and capable of operating independently of God. This materialism extends not only to the planetary system but also to living nature. There is a growing plea to exclude God from scientific inquiry, best expressed in Laplace’s (perhaps apocryphal) reply to Napoleon, who asked where God fit in his system of the world: “Sire, I have no need of that hypothesis.” God becomes a Dieu fainéant. At best, He remains as the distant God of the philosophers.

In the Middle Ages, the idea of the unity of state and church prevailed in Europe. For example, in the city-state of Geneva, during the early Reformation, only the Reformed religion was permitted. But from the beginning of the Reformation, other voices were also heard, even in Calvin’s circle: pleas for tolerance. This is evident in statements by Geldenhauer, Anastasius Veluanus, Katharina Schütz, and Pierre Viret. This was entirely new for that time. The driving forces behind this shift in thinking were partly pragmatic, but biblical arguments also played a role. The common appeal to biblical texts for the government’s fight against heresy is argued against. Conversely, the parable of the weeds in the field in Matthew 13 is used as proof that God does not want violence against heretics in this dispensation. A generation later, the persecution of heretics by the Reformed was no longer an issue, although this did not yet mean complete religious freedom.

Recent publications show that the debate between infant baptism and adult baptism continues without abating. The Reformed theology of infant baptism establishes its position with a distinction between the covenant of works (or creation) and the covenant of grace, and in the continuity of the latter across the divide between the Old and New testaments. Adult or Credo-baptist theologies, on the other hand, emphasize the break between the old and the new covenant, and the discontinuity of circumcision and baptism. Henri Blocher is a prominent French defender of believers’ baptism who recently published an important two-volume work on the church and sacraments in French. He identifies his theology of baptism as a variety of Reformed theology. He points to the inherent difficulties in the Reformed notion of covenant, and argues that a revision is both justified by Scripture and can give a coherent account of the covenant notion itself. This article analyzes Blocher’s proposition and provides a brief evaluation.