Two Kingdom Tuesday: No Confusion, No Massacre

August 24 is the anniversary of the St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre, a time when in 1572 the hostilities between Roman Catholics and Huguenots reached historic proportions. Thousands of Protestants lost their lives in a string of anti-Reformed riots, aimed a eliminating the “heretics.” According to Philip Benedict, the Massacre marked a turning point in the French Reformation. After the incident, “the once buoyant Huguenot minorities that had taken control of cities like Lyon, Rouen, and Orleans in 1562 amounted to at most a few hundred families. Many of the smaller, more isolated Reformed churches had been extinguished” (146).

One of the casualties of the Massacre was Gaspard de Coligny, a military leader by most accounts of remarkable ability and courage. During Henry II’s reign, Coligny was a friend and close ally of the king. Once Coligny converted to Protestantism, he lost such access but did emerge as a patron and strategist for the Reformed cause. He even supported the establishment in 1557, of an ill-fated French colony in Brazil, complete with ministers supplied by the Company of Pastors in Geneva. On August 24, 1572 Coligny lost his life to an assassin’s sword. His death was the opening act in the subsequent massacre of Huguenots.

As much as the courage and conviction of Coligny and the Huguenots inspire today — and possibly provoke severe cases of head shaking at the thought of a Roman Catholic presiding over a Protestant college — the St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre also teaches important lessons about the virtue of distinguishing the affairs of the civil polity from those of the church. Although Paul taught that “to die is gain,” he also counseled Christians to seek quiet and peaceful lives. In which case, secular regimes that are neutral to religion (as opposed to the ones that are explicitly anti-clerical) are far preferable to the confusion of kingdoms that was at least partly responsible for the good Admiral’s death.

Getting over the Puritans, Say Hello to the Huguenots

I cannot say enough good things about Philip Benedict’s Christ’s Churches Purely Reformed: A Social History of Calvinism (Yale University Press, 2002). Among the reasons for recommending the book, aside from careful scholarship and judicious conclusions, is Benedict’s attention to the variety of Reformed expressions as they took shape in diverse cultural and political contexts. This is what historians do and Benedict does it greatly.

One of the arresting parts of Benedict’s narrative is his account of the French Reformation. Obviously, the politics of France never cooperated with the aims of church reform (as if they did in England). As a result, the Huguenots failed to institutionalize a reformed church in ways that could be sustained in France, or that served as the inspiration for colonial churches in the New World where Calvinism of British descent would dominate the Reformed experience. Even so, his comments about the French Reformed church prior to St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre are music to Reformed confessionalist’s ears:

The achievements of the Reformed by early 1562 were little short of remarkable. Within just a few years, hundreds of congregations had assembled across the kingdom. A set of national church institutions had been defined that would endure for more than a century with only minor modifications. Reformed worship had obtained legal toleration. In a few locales, it had even displaced Catholicism. . . .

. . . [T]he wars of Religion taught the churches to rely on their own resources to survive. At successive national synods, they increasingly marked their distance from the secular authorities. Synodal decrees warned against selecting magistrates to serve as elders, forbade consistories to denounce church members discovered to be guilty of heinous crimes to the secular judges, and declared all consistory proceedings secret, even those in which consistory members were insulted in manners that might be actionable before the secular courts. All this was a far cry from the sort of defense of consistorial authority that Calvin sought and obtained from the Genevan magistracy. The French Reformed churches thus became the enduring model of a network of churches that maintained purity of doctrine, quality control over local clergy, ecclesiastical discipline, and reasonable uniformity of practice with a minimum of reliance on secular authorities. (pp. 144, 148)

Not to mention that the Gallican Confession wasn’t too shabby.

If only the Huguenots were more the model for American Reformed church life than the Puritans.