In a recent issue on Reformed scholasticism there is an article arguing that John Owen was a scholastic by Christopher Cleveland. That article consists in the main of the author’s analysis of how Owen used scholastic methods in his own work, but also mentions how he used concepts taken from the thought of Aquinas. Hence we read that “Owen demonstrates several of the characteristics of the scholastic approach in his writings” and that “the Thomistic distinction between God’s simple intelligence and knowledge of vision . . . found in Thomas’ Summa Theologica[,] is used by Owen in Display of Arminianism.”

The online magazine Credo, about whose notions I have written before, when it is not declaring the alleged glories of Platonism (comp. Col. 2:8), allowing Lutheran interim pastors to imply Anglo-Romanists are Reformed, or publishing materials by members of Romanist religious orders (participation in which we regard as sinful, Westminster Confession XXII.7), has been straining to re-popularize scholasticism, and has especially been commending the thought of Thomas Aquinas.
In a recent issue on Reformed scholasticism there is an article arguing that John Owen was a scholastic by Christopher Cleveland. That article consists in the main of the author’s analysis of how Owen used scholastic methods in his own work, but also mentions how he used concepts taken from the thought of Aquinas. Hence we read that “Owen demonstrates several of the characteristics of the scholastic approach in his writings” and that “the Thomistic distinction between God’s simple intelligence and knowledge of vision . . . found in Thomas’ Summa Theologica[,] is used by Owen in Display of Arminianism.” As concerns the latter statement this analysis may be correct; I am not sufficiently well read in Owen or Aquinas (two notably difficult authors) to say. But the method seems wanting, and fairness commends allowing Owen to speak for himself. Following are a series of mentions of Aquinas and the scholastics in some of Owen’s works so that you may judge, dear reader, whether Owen would concur with his description as a scholastic. All works cited are hyperlinked and are available through the Post Reformation Digital Library, a wonderful resource whose executive board is moderated by a sometime Credo contributor, David Sytsma. In some cases I have regularized capitalization and spelling somewhat for readability.
Before proceeding, note that what we now call the scholastics were referred to as ‘schoolmen’ or ‘school doctors’ in Owen’s day, and that instead of scholasticism he speaks of ‘the schools.’ Owen did refer to Aquinas with appreciation in some occasions at least. In A Vindication of the Animadversions on Fiat Lux he spoke of “Thomas of Aquine, who without question is the best and most sober of all your school doctors.” Given what follows I am not sure that is quite as much a compliment as it first seems, however. Then too, Vindication is a polemic work written against a Romanist author: telling his correspondent that Aquinas is one of “your school doctors” seems to be saying he belongs in the camp of the papists, not the Reformation.
That is borne out elsewhere, as in his work Of Schisme Owen refers to “Thomas Aquinas and such vassals of the Papacy,” and says of him and others of like opinion on schism that “we are not concerned in them; what the Lord speaks of it, that we judge concerning it.” Note carefully Owen’s rejection of Aquinas’ opinion as false and as contradicted by the Lord’s revelation in scripture. In that same work Owen says that Aquinas regarded schism as damning sin: “Schism, as it is declared by S. Austin and S. Thomas of Aquin, being so great and damnable a sin.” That makes it a bit of an oddity that so many Protestants are falling all over themselves to lay claim to Aquinas, since his published works condemn us as lost schismatics laying under the threat of damnation for our ‘sin’ in refusing to submit to Rome.
Elsewhere in the work, discussing the enormous differences of opinion that exist within the Roman communion, Owen quotes the great Roman controversialist Bellarmine’s opinion that one of Aquinas’ teachings was “idolatricall” (fun phrase), namely “that of Thomas about the worship of the cross with latria.” On that same subject Owen says in Vindication that “Thomas contendeth that the cross is to be worshipped with latria, p. 3. q. 25. a. 4. which is a word that he and you suppose to express religious worship of the highest sort.” And again, that “the most prevalent opinion of your doctors is that of Thomas and his followers, that images are to be adored with the same kind of worship wherewith that which they represent is to be worshipped.”
(This is why I have elsewhere opposed the Aquinas craze on the grounds that it is not appropriate for God’s people to be so zealous about someone who commends idolatry, which is what is entailed in worshiping the cross.)
Owen’s opinion of the scholastics in general does not seem to be very positive. In one of the works that Credo’s article quotes, A Display of Arminianism, we find Owen discussing the question of whether before the Incarnation men living “according to the dictates of right reason, might be saved without faith in Christ,” a matter he says “hath also since, (as what hath not) been drawn into dispute among the wrangling Schoolmen: and yet, which is rarely seen, their verdict in this particular, almost unanimously passeth for the truth,” a statement he immediately follows with a quote from Aquinas’ Summa Theologiae (2. 2 ae. q. 2. a. 7. c.) as evidence. Perhaps my understanding of seventeenth century English is errant, but that reads to me as though Owen is saying ‘even the schoolmen, who argue about everything, seldom agree amongst themselves, and are seldom entirely right, concur that this idea is false.’ (And that that was Owen’s position as well is abundantly confirmed by his subsequent statement that asserting men can be saved apart from faith in Christ is “a wicked Pelagian Socinian heresy.”) It is noteworthy, however, that the several other mentions of the ‘schoolemen’ in that work are not so dismissive, some citing them approvingly.
Elsewhere Owen speaks of the principle reformers as being superior to the scholastics in defending trinitarian doctrine. Discussing his Romanist opponent’s arguments in Animadversions on Fiat Lux, he says that “from them [anti-trinitarian heretics like Servetus] a return is made again, to Luther, Brenz, Calvin, Zwingli, who are said to nibble at Arianism, and shoot secrets darts at the Trinity.” He rebuts this by saying that “all impartial men must needs confess, that they have asserted and proved the doctrine of it, far more solidly then all the schoolmen in the world were able to do.”
Yet such statements are rather weak in comparison to the extended condemnations of the scholastics that appear in Animadversions and Vindication of Animadversions. In the first he speaks of his papist opponent’s “gallant commendation of the ingenuity, charity, candor, and sublime science of the school-men.” Owen’s response to this “gallant commendation” is strong:
I confess, they have deserved good words at his hands: These are the men, who out of a mixture of philosophy, traditions, and scripture, all corrupted and perverted, have hammered that faith, which was afterwards confirmed under so many anathemas at Trent. So that upon the matter, he is beholden to them for his religion; which I find he loves, and hath therefore reason to be thankful to its contrivers. For my part, I am as far from envying them their commendation, as I have reason to be, which I am sure is far enough. But yet before we admit this testimony, hand over head; I could wish he would take a course to stop the mouths of some of his own church, and those no small ones neither, who have declared them to the world, to be a pack of egregious sophisters, neither good philosophers, nor any divines at all; men who seem not to have had the least reverence of God, nor much regard to the truth in any of their disputations, but were wholly influenced by a vain reputation of subtility, desire of conquest, of leading and denominating parties, and that in a barbarous science, barbarously expressed, until they had driven all learning and divinity almost out of the world. But I will not contend about these fathers of contention: let every man esteem of them as he seems good.
A similar passage in Vindication is equally strong and expounds this theme:
I confess the language of your schoolmen is so corrupt and barbarous, many of the things they sweat about, so vain, curious, unprofitable, their way of handling things, and expressing the notions of their minds, so perplexed, dark, obscure, and oftentimes unintelligible, divers of their assertions and suppositions so horrid and monstrous; the whole system of their pretended divinity, so alien and foreign unto the mystery of the Gospel that I know no great reason that any man hath much to delight in them. These things have made them the sport and scorn of the learnedest men that ever lived in the communion of your own church.
And further, after some obscure Latin and ancient allusions:
They are not like to do mischief to any, unless they are resolved aforehand to give up their faith in the things of God to the authority of this or that philosopher, and forego all solid rational consideration of things, to betake themselves to sophistical canting, and the winding up of subtility into plain non-sense; which oftentimes befalls the best of them; Whence Melchior Canus one of yourselves says of some of your learned disputes, Puderet me dicere non intelligere, si ipsi intelligerent qui tractarunt. ‘I should be ashamed to say I did not understand them, but that they understood not themselves.’ Others may be entangled by them, who if they cannot untie your knots, they may break your webs, especially when they find the conclusions, as oftentimes they are, directly contrary to scripture, right reason, and natural sense itself.
And following more allusions:
But whatever I said of them, or your church, is perfectly consistent with itself, and the truth. I grant that before the schoolmen set forth in the world, many unsound opinions were broached in, and many superstitious practices admitted into your church: and a great pretense raised unto a superintendency over other churches, which were parts of that mass out of which your popery is formed. But before the schoolmen took it in hand, it was rudis indigesta (que) moles, ‘a heap, not a house.’ As Rabbi Juda Hakkadosh gathered the passant traditions of his own time among the Jews, into a body or system, which is called the Mishnae or duplicate of their law, wherein he composed a new religion for them, sufficiently distant from that which was professed by their fore-fathers; so have your schoolmen done also. Out of the passant traditions of the days wherein they lived, blended with sophistical corrupted notions of their own, countenanced and gilded with the sayings of some ancient writers of the church, for the most part wrested or misunderstood, they have hammered out that system of philosophical traditional divinity, which is now enstamped with the authority of the Tridentine Council, being as far distant from the divinity of the New Testament, as the farrago of traditions collected by Rabbi Juda, and improved in the Talmuds, is from that of the old.
Lastly, he says in Vindication:
Some learn their divinity out of the late, and modern schools, both in the Reformed and Papal Church; in both which a science is proposed under that name, consisting in a farrago of credible propositions, asserted in terms suited unto that philosophy that is variously predominant in them. What a kind of theology this hath produced in the Papacy, Agricola, Erasmus, Vives, Jansenius, with innumerable other learned men of your own, have sufficiently declared. And that it hath any better success in the Reformed churches, many things which I shall not now instance in, give me cause to doubt.
The folks at Credo will say that such vehement anti-scholastic rhetoric is directed against later scholastics like Gabriel Biel, not Aquinas or other “sounder scholastics.” The above make that seem doubtful, however, especially that last quote, and they draw into question whether Owen would concur with his classification as a Reformed scholastic of Thomistic inclinations. Let the reader judge for himself.
Tom Hervey is a member of Woodruff Road Presbyterian Church, Five Forks (Simpsonville), SC. The opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author and do not of necessity reflect those of his church or its leadership or other members. He welcomes comments at the email address provided with his name. He is also author of Reflections on the Word: Essays in Protestant Scriptural Contemplation, available through Amazon.
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Our liberty in Christ is not to be wielded as a club, that we might beat up the weaker brother (see Rom. 14:15). Nor is it to be used to create a club where some believers are “in” and others are “out” (see Col. 2:18). The highest expression of Christian freedom is to serve others in love (Gal. 5:13). Part of Christian charity is taking into account all the factors that exist in each person and personality (e.g., feelings, tastes, and temperaments) and acting accordingly.

A stone’s throw away from where our family lives, there is a scent-manufacturing facility that produces large quantities of fragrances and perfumes. On our way home, we often smell the potent and sweet scents wafting in our direction. In Psalm 133, David captures the aroma of God’s dwelling place, of being in the congregation of the faithful. He likens the communion of saints to the fragrant oil that cascaded down on Aaron. Poured out on the high priest’s head, the oil flowed down on the beard, and then down from his collar to the rest of his garments. This consecrated oil was a unique blend made by a chosen perfumer, and the Lord prohibited the concocting of this composition for any other purpose (Ex. 30:22–33). It was a one-of-a-kind recipe applied only to the furnishings of the tabernacle and the Levitical priests.

The “nowhere else to be found” oil, according to David, points to the exceptional peace that characterizes the gathered worshipers of the Lord. When we reflect on the relationship between the holy anointing oil of Exodus 30 and the unity of the people of God in Psalm 133, we are drawn to the conclusion that when it comes to the bonds between believers in Christ—brothers and sisters in the Lord in the church—there is nowhere else in human society where such peace can be found.
The Lord Jesus defines His disciples not only as recipients of His peace (John 14:27) but also as His “peacemakers” (Matt. 5:9). In other words, much as a doctor “practices” medicine or an attorney “practices” law, the vocation of Christians is to be practitioners of peace. The working out of this calling demonstrates that we have been in the school of the Prince of Peace (Isa. 9:6) and that the shalom of His kingdom permeates and seasons our life together (see Col. 3:15). The heavenly fountainhead of this peace is none other than the Holy Spirit (see Rom. 14:17), meaning that such harmony is attained not by a grassroots movement in pooling our resources but by partaking of the grace and wisdom from above (see James 3:17).

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The power of the belief that we’re alone traps us in shame. It sucks us into the belief that we can get ourselves out of our messes. Break the cycle. Cry out to God. Call your pastor. Connect with a trusted Christian friend. Contact a counselor. You are never alone.

“I’m sure no one has ever told you this.”
“It’s so bad. You are going to think terrible things about me.”
“Everyone would hate me if they knew what I was thinking.”
“There is no one who loves me for me.”
I’ve heard each of these helpless words from people who sat in my office. They are raw, vulnerable, heartbreaking. They reveal people’s crippling loneliness and fears that they are destined to remain alone.
I’ve been there. Discouragement spiraled into depression, and I multiplied my angst by entangling myself in sin. I didn’t think anyone would understand. I was too afraid to ask for help. Lies compounded sin.
Satan Lies
Satan traffics in lies. He wants you to believe that God isn’t good, that you are alone, and that your shame can never be removed. Each is a profound deception. In 1 Peter 5:8, we are reminded: “Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary, the devil, prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.” Don’t be deceived, Peter says; you have to fight to stay out of the enemy’s jaws. There is one who intends to destroy you.
How can we fight the enemy’s lies? It’s no accident that Peter’s admonition to be on guard against Satan comes after his encouragement for elders to shepherd the flock, and his subsequent call to humility. For Peter knows that a humble and unified flock is a powerful force against Satan’s wiles: “Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you” (1 Pet. 5:6–7).
Isn’t that peculiar advice? What’s the connection between Satan’s attacks, humbling ourselves, and casting our anxieties on God? Peter puts his finger on a particular vulnerability Satan goes after: our anxieties, which drive us from God and community and toward ourselves.
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