A Response to Kevin DeYoung
In a series of articles, I’ve made the case that the original and American versions of the Westminster Standards are not contradictory, contra Kevin DeYoung. DeYoung has now provided his response, for which I am thankful. His thesis remains unchanged: “The two doctrines of the civil magistrate contain elements that are mutually exclusive.” Nevertheless, DeYoung has still failed to establish his case.
The Stories We Tell
First, we must note the story DeYoung tells. On his account, the point of the American revisions was to contradict the previous Reformed tradition, rejecting its principles. He titles their revision “a massive change” from the original version (emphasis in the original). We should be skeptical of such an extreme thesis. Primary sources indicated that at least some of the Americans did not see their revisions as a “massive change.” The moderator of the 1789 General Assembly, John Rodgers, called the revisions to chapter 23 “inconsiderable alterations.” The irony is not lost on me. Both DeYoung and I have spent quite a lot of time considering alterations to the Confession that one of the most senior ministers at the relevant meetings considered, literally, not worth considering.
My story is much more modest than DeYoung’s–and more charitable. Rather than break with their forebears, I argue that, on the whole, the American Presbyterians sought to apply classic Reformed political theology within the new American constitutional settlement, while also allowing for a broader range of political views. As Miles Smith has noted, “The 1788 meeting of Presbyterians in Philadelphia had widely divergent beliefs on political theology and politics. Near-establishmentarians gathered with Jacobin sympathizers. There was never a unitary motivation for the revisions.” In other words, ministers who had differing sentiments toward the political arrangements of the Old World–some regarding them as required and some regarding them as conditioned on circumstances–still could commonly confess the doctrine of the civil magistrate contained within the 1788 revisions. It is my contention that we ought to continue the same judgment of latitude today within the PCA–not merely because this continues the historical practice of the American Presbyterian church, but more importantly, for the sake of liberty itself on properly contested matters. The text of our subordinate Standards allows (and should allow) for a variety of views accepted within the tradition of the American Presbyterian church.
Contrary Evidence
DeYoung contends that the point of the American revisions was to eliminate the sections of the original Standards that required the civil magistrate to do things like furnish the church with gospel officers and ordinances and purge it from corruption. Unfortunately for his case, the Americans retained all of these duties within the Larger Catechism Q&A 191:
In the second petition, (which is, Thy kingdom come,) acknowledging ourselves and all mankind to be by nature under the dominion of sin and Satan, we pray, that the kingdom of sin and Satan may be destroyed, the gospel propagated throughout the world, the Jews called, the fullness of the Gentiles brought in; the church furnished with all gospel officers and ordinances, purged from corruption, countenanced and maintained by the civil magistrate; that the ordinances of Christ may be purely dispensed, and made effectual to the converting of those that are yet in their sins, and the confirming, comforting, and building up of those that are already converted: that Christ would rule in our hearts here, and hasten the time of his second coming, and our reigning with him forever: and that he would be pleased so to exercise the kingdom of his power in all the world, as may best conduce to these ends. (Emphasis added.)
Notice the location of the semi-colons. To advance the kingdom of God, the civil magistrate must not only countenance and maintain the church. He must also ensure that it is furnished with officers and ordinances and purged from corruption. Consequently, if DeYoung’s interpretation of 23.3 is correct, then the American version not only contradicts the original version–it also contradicts itself. However, if my interpretation is correct, then the American version is consistent with both itself and the original version (more below). The best reading of the current Confession is one that is consistent with itself, consistent with the original, and consistent with the original sense that the differences were “inconsiderable.”
DeYoung appears to acknowledge that Larger Catechism 191 is inconsistent with his interpretation of chapter 23 of the Confession. He has noted that “it may have been an oversight on the part of the 1788 Assembly to keep this language in place.” Consequently, he suggests that “ministers should consider taking an exception to ‘maintained.’” However, if DeYoung’s interpretation is right, then he does not go far enough. Ministers should not only take an exception to “maintained” but the whole clause: “the church furnished with all gospel officers and ordinances, purged from corruption, countenanced and maintained by the civil magistrate.” Presumably, he would similarly suggest ministers state differences with other statements within the Standards, like where the Larger Catechism says civil magistrates must ensure their people are provided with “all things necessary for soul and body” (129; cf. 124). At some point, the idea that these sections were “oversights” becomes untenable. It is much more charitable and modest to acknowledge, instead, that many of the ministers at the relevant synods did not find these statements particularly objectionable.
Picking the Most Extreme Examples
DeYoung uses David Dickson to exposit the meaning of the original version of 23.3. Dickson says that the magistrate ought to “force and oblige all his subjects” so that his subjects achieve “a conformity to the true worship, sound doctrine, and discipline of the Church.” This view, DeYoung argues, is the doctrine of the magistrate taught in the original version of the Westminster Confession–and it is incompatible with the American version. However, this argument simply holds no water.
First, we must remember that the Westminster Confession is a consensus document. Many of the Divines held views that differed to various degrees, and the Confession’s expression was meant to encompass all of them. Dickson’s view may be permissible under the original version, but that does not mean it is required by the original version. It may equally be the right application in some political circumstances and not in others. Second, the original version does not demand the magistrate “force and oblige all his subjects.” Instead, it uses much more general language: the magistrate must “take order.” In other words, the magistrate must order his realm toward the end of true religion. He must organize the commonwealth so that the right worship of God might flourish among the people. As Ben Dunson notes, this view of the ordering power of the magistrate in chapter 23 is articulated well by Robert Shaw. Depending on the situation, the commonwealth may be best ordered with coercion, but not necessarily always. In other words, a range of permissible options exists under Chapter 23.3, but none are explicitly laid down. Only general principles are described. To be more particular would be to encroach on the discretion of the magistrate. After all, the assembly was not conveying political policy to the magistrate but rather recognizing the power and duties given to him by God.
Third, supposing Dickson did mean to say that every magistrate must always (without exception) compel all of his subjects to a particular form of worship, then he does indeed hold to a more rigid view–and one less common within the Reformed tradition. The much more common view is that of the Reformed jurist, Althusius. Here is how he puts it:
But it is asked, when certain cities or estates in a realm embrace different opinions in their creeds—for the defense of which each alleges the Word of God—whether the magistrate who embraces the opinion of one party may persecute the remaining dissenters by force of arms and the sword. We may say in this case that the magistrate who is not able, without peril to the commonwealth, to change or overcome the discrepancy in religion and creed ought to tolerate the dissenters for the sake of public peace and tranquillity, blinking his eyes and permitting them to exercise unapproved religion, lest the entire realm, and with it the household of the church, be overthrown. He shall therefore tolerate the practice of diverse religions as a skilled navigator bears with diverse and conflicting winds and clashing waves. Just as amidst these winds and waves the navigator brings his ship safely into the harbor, so the magistrate directs the commonwealth in a manner that keeps it free from ruin for the welfare of the church.
In other words, Althusius grants that in some cases, the magistrate may, at his discretion, allow Christians of different kinds to practice their faith according to their convictions. This is not an unusual position. It is also not inconsistent with the original version. After all, the original version says “take order,” not “force and oblige.” In many scenarios, physical coercion creates chaotic rebellion, not order.
George Gillespie echoed Althusius in his discussion of different types of toleration. The Papacy insisted that heretics and sectarians must be ruthlessly stamped out without exception or discretion on the part of the magistrate. Others of Gillespie’s day denied the magistrate any care of religion at all. Between these two extremes, Gillespie presented a middle way, the common Reformed position.
The magistrate may and ought to exercise his coercive power, in suppressing and punishing heretics and secataries [sic], less or more, according as the nature and degree of the error, schism, obstinacy, and dangers of seducing others, doth require.
In other words, the magistrate may, in principle, punish heretics and the rest, but he should do so with discernment. Not all cases are alike. What Gillespie could not entertain was a blanket policy one way or the other. There were different types or modes of toleration, some good and others bad.
A toleration born of indifference to religion violates the magistrate’s God-given duties. So too is toleration motivated strictly by the magistrate’s own profit or gain. But a toleration “arising from necessity” is permissible, if lamentable. “Even a David may have cause to complain that the sons of Zerviah are too strong for him.” “In such cases as these,” says Gillespie, a magistrate need not feel guilty. He must do the best he can given the circumstances.
There is yet another kind of permissible toleration wherein the magistrate does not abdicate his office. The magistrate may hold out hope that some heretics or otherwise heterodox citizens will return to orthodoxy. So long as “safe accommodation” can be made to them without endangering the peace and order of the church or the commonwealth, the magistrate is justified in tolerating error out of “Christian pity and moderation.” As Stephen Marshall put it, “It is one thing to hinder idolatry, and blasphemy spreading, another thing to make people renounce an opinion, and embrace truth.” Accordingly, not only can a magistrate not compel faith, but he also must practice “indulgence, toleration, to all the Lord’s people, in their weaknesses, whither of judgment or conversation.”
DeYoung puts the words of Dickson in the mouth of the Confession and then proclaims, “Contradiction!” But the Confession and Dickson are not saying the exact same thing. Instead, the original version of chapter 23 sketched the fundamental principles of the common position of the Divines, which allowed for much more toleration than DeYoung’s quote of Dickson would lead one to believe. Hence, the American arrangement acknowledged by the 1788 revisions does not represent Presbyterians embracing “the error of the Quakers,” as DeYoung suggests. Instead, it was an American adaptation of classic Reformed political theology, fitted to their particular situation. Indeed, we might say that the revisions are an acknowledgment that the American magistrate must practice toleration of necessity and moderation.
To see why the two versions do not contradict each other, look at two clauses side by side.
[The magistrate] hath authority, and it is his duty, to take order, that unity and peace be preserved in the Church, that the truth of God be kept pure and entire; that all blasphemies and heresies be suppressed; all corruptions and abuses in worship and discipline prevented or reformed; and all the ordinances of God duly settled, administered, and observed.
As nursing fathers, it is the duty of civil magistrates to protect the church of our common Lord, without giving the preference to any denomination of Christians above the rest, in such a manner that all ecclesiastical persons whatever shall enjoy the full, free, and unquestioned liberty of discharging every part of their sacred functions, without violence or danger.
Ask yourself this: Can you imagine a scenario where a magistrate may do both of these things at the same time? Certainly! It may very well be the case, for example, that the best way for a magistrate to take order that all corruptions and abuses in worship and discipline prevented or Reformed is for that magistrate to protect the church of our common Lord in such a manner that all ecclesiastical persons whatever shall enjoy the full, free, and unquestioned liberty of discharging every part of their sacred functions. Suppose you’re in a context where the populace is almost entirely Protestant. The people are more or less virtuous and self-regulating and enjoy strong institutions, but they believe passionately in their unique denominations, which had grown up over the preceding decades in relative peace and harmony. Well, in that case, it’s probably a great idea to protect the churches and allow them to go along on their own business, empowering and entrusting the churches to protect themselves from corruptions and abuses. Any direct involvement would probably do far more harm than good. And you know what? Such a scenario describes early America fairly accurately.
In other words, the original Confession describes the principal end of government (the practice of true religion) while the American version describes prudential means for achieving that end in the American context (broad toleration of all Protestant sects). They’re different, but not mutually exclusive.
Overstatements
According to DeYoung, “we know that American Presbyterians rejected the idea that the magistrate had power to call synods.” He cites as evidence a statement from the 1729 Adopting Act, which says that the Americans adopted the Confession
excepting only some Clauses in the 20 and 23 Chapters, concerning which Clauses, the Synod do unanimously declare, that they do not receive those Articles in any such sense as to suppose the civil Magistrate hath a controlling Power over Synods with Respect to the Exercise of their ministerial Authority; or power to persecute any for their Religion, or in any sense contrary to the Protestant succession to the Throne of Great-Britain.
However, this statement says nothing about the power of the magistrate to call synods. It says that the magistrate has no “controlling Power over Synods with Respect to the Exercise of their ministerial Authority” (emphasis added). However, a magistrate may call a synod–and even preside over a synod–without using controlling power over the exercise of ministerial authority. In fact, in the first and archetypal example of a magistrate calling and presiding over a synod, namely, Constantine, the Emperor went out of his way to ensure he did not control the opinion of the ministers at the Council of Nicea. Hence, the Americans in 1729 are rejecting neither Constantinianism nor classic Reformed political thought. In fact, they simply do not address whether a magistrate may call a synod at all.
This is not the only example of overstatement by DeYoung. He has also claimed that the Adopting Act rendered the original version’s doctrine of the civil magistrate “null and void.” However, John Murray notes:
It is to be remembered that the terms of “the Adopting Act” in 1729 were that these clauses were not received “in any such sense as to suppose the civil magistrate hath a controlling power over Synods with respect to the exercise of their ministerial authority. …” This is but a reservation to the effect that in adopting the articles concerned, they were not to be understood as carrying a certain implication.
Charles Hodge said the following:
It is to be remembered that the synod did not reject the clauses specified in chapters twentieth and twenty-third, absolutely, but “in any such sense” as taught the subjection of the church to the power of the state; “a sense, which for my part,” says the Rev. Samuel Blair, “I believe the reverend composers never intended in them.”
In other words, the American Presbyterians at the Adopting Act took an exception to a particular interpretation of chapter 23, not to chapter 23 itself. Moreover, if others were of the same opinion as Samuel Blair, they certainly did not see themselves as breaking with the tradition of the Westminster Divines. I’ve dealt with this issue in more detail elsewhere. Suffice it to say, DeYoung reads far too much into the Adopting Act than the text warrants.
Thin Evidence
DeYoung cites a paragraph from the minutes of the Synod of New York and Philadelphia from 1786, which says that “every candidate for the gospel Ministry is permitted to except against so much of the twenty third Chapter as gives authority to the Civil Magistrate in matters of Religion.” According to DeYoung, their use of the phrase “in matters of Religion” means that the Synod saw the original chapter 23 of the Confession as granting the magistrate authority in sacra rather than circa sacra. However, it is much more likely that these minutes are a reference back to the 1729 Adopting Act, which states that the Americana adopted the Confession excepting clauses which the Presbyterians do not receive “in any such sense” (see above). In other words, they probably meant to reject a particular application of chapter 23, or clarify a potential misunderstanding of chapter 23, not lodge an accusation that the Divines transgressed the in sacra/circa sacra distinction (a transgression the Divines labored strenuously to avoid). Nonetheless, whatever the right interpretation of the 1786 paragraph may be, it is not good practice to hang an argument on precise wording in the minutes. Anyone who has ever served as a clerk would warn you of the risks.
Additionally, DeYoung provides an extensive quote from the memoirs of Ashbel Green, who was a young minister involved in distributing the American revisions. According to Green, the government may not act as a patron to the Presbyterian church “but in open violation of an established principle of the standards of that Church.” Moreover, he says that “any connexion with the State whatever, as a calamity and a curse.” We can make a few observations about these statements by Green.
First, Green’s comments are brief. He does not provide any precise analysis about what he and his fellow presbyterians considered either (1) permissible or impermissible in general; or (2) prudential in practice given the specific constitutional settlement of early America. Indeed, in the early American context, it would have certainly been considered “a calamity and a curse” if the government attempted to patronize Presbyterianism as the official religion of the nation–not least because their fellow Protestants would have revolted! It would have led to peril for the commonwealth, as Althusius put it. Such an interpretation of Green reads him as rejecting official patronage on prudential grounds, not principled ones. Nevertheless, whatever the right reading of Green’s brief comments may be–and whether or not Green is correct in his assessment of chapter 23–both the original and American versions of the Larger Catechism say that Christians ought to pray that “the church furnished with all gospel officers and ordinances, purged from corruption, countenanced and maintained by the civil magistrate” (191). At the very least, we must admit that such a view is not inconsistent with the American version–after all, it’s a quote from the American version–and what should carry the day is the text of the American version, not one minister’s brief comments. I, for one, would be horrified if hundreds of years later, future Presbyterians grounded their interpretation of the Westminster Standards on a couple of paragraphs from my own memoirs.
Downplaying Crucial Points
DeYoung does make some important acknowledgments. He says that “American Presbyterians in the eighteenth century did not envision a naked public square or a neutral civil magistrate.” Moreover, Witherspoon believed, “as almost all Presbyterians did, that public wickedness—drunkenness, lewdness, swearing, Sabbath breaking, blasphemy, and riotous behavior—should be punished.” He also clarifies that he is “not suggesting that American Presbyterians of the eighteenth century would approve of the political arrangement of the twenty-first century.” Instead, “They assumed an overwhelmingly Protestant nation where Catholics and (more so) Jews could be tolerated, but without all the rights of Protestants.” Hence, “They did not conceive of the religious pluralism we now have in America.” Nevertheless, this description of the early Americans is a severe understatement.
The facts of the matter are far more stark. Many (most?) of the American Presbyterians were members of the American elite who built the early republic. John Witherspoon, after all, is one of our founding fathers and a signer of the Declaration of Independence. He was also on the New Jersey Provincial Congress that restricted rights to full civil participation to Protestants. He did not merely “assume” a nation where Jews and Catholics did not receive civil rights. Along with many of his fellow Presbyterians, he was part of the political body that enshrined such an arrangement into the New Jersey constitution.
DeYoung frames other critical points with rhetoric that also downplays their importance. For example, he lumps Sabbath laws and blasphemy laws together with laws against drunkenness, lewdness, and riotous behavior. DeYoung places these laws under the label “public decorum.” The implication seems to be that these laws were not punishments based upon one’s religious practice but rather based upon what people at the time considered unbecoming. However, this way of telling the story is misleading. In the early American period, one cannot contrast religious laws and public decorum. Things were considered indecent because they transgressed the religion of the American people. In 1768, one writer noted in the Journal of the Times the tragedy of British soldiers not observing the Sabbath:
What an unhappy influence must this have upon the minds of children and others, in eradicating the sentiments of morality and religion, which a due regard to that day has a natural tendency to cultivate and keep alive.
Clearly, the issue here is not simply that the British were merely acting indecently. The issue is that their lack of proper religious behavior in public was a detriment to the people.
This point exposes a mistake which is often made by modern readers–not a mistake that I attribute to DeYoung, but one that is often made by others and, therefore, relevant to our discussion. When modern people hear about laws that enforce the First Table, they often imagine getting SWATed in the middle of the night because they used the name of the Son of God indecently when they stubbed their toe. Such was never the majority Reformed position.
For example, the American Presbyterian minister Samuel Blair (1712–1751) denied that the magistrate “may punish Persons, merely for entertaining erroneous Principles.” Nevertheless, he affirmed “that the Magistrate has Power to punish Persons, if they will spread and teach their Heresies to the perverting of the Gospel.” In other words, the civil magistrate may punish transgressions against the First Table only when they are done in such a way as to hurt the wellbeing of the public. This is how the First Table was enforced in early America–a continuity with the Reformed tradition, not a break from it. Stated yet another way, the proper distinction between what the magistrate may or may not punish is not First Table versus Second Table offenses, but rather private versus public offenses.
Errors Here and There
We could address other issues with DeYoung’s assessment. For example, he says that the 1788 Americans “quickly and without controversy rejected the 1646 view that ‘tolerating a false religion’ was a sin.” However, others and I have taken great pains to show that removing a statement from a confession does not entail rejecting it. By subtracting this phrase from the Larger Catechism, the American Presbyterians allowed ministers freedom of conscience to believe or not believe that tolerating a false religion is a sin. Moreover, it’s highly unlikely that the original version meant to say that the toleration of false religion is sinful in every scenario, given what we saw above regarding the Reformed position on toleration. Hence, “tolerating a false religion” probably meant something like “tolerating one when you ought to do otherwise.” In which case, this is another example of the Americans desiring to clarify a potential misunderstanding of the original version, not reject it. DeYoung also claims that the American version requires the magistrate to “ensure that no one is punished for his religious commitments (or lack thereof).” I’ve dealt with this issue elsewhere as well. He deploys Witherspoon’s Preliminary Principles for his argument, too. I will leave that issue (and others) to brothers more capable than myself.
Conclusion
It seems as if DeYoung wishes the American version read differently than it, in fact, does. He wishes that the American revision explicitly rejected what the 1646 edition said about the civil magistrate. However, the American version simply says nothing to this effect. What it does say is that the magistrate ought to furnish the church with all gospel officers and ordinances, purge the church from corruption, countenance the church, and maintain the church, so that the kingdom of God might advance (WLC 191). The facts simply point in a different direction than DeYoung would prefer.
In sum, DeYoung’s interpretation strains the text of the American Confession and reads more into the revisions than they warrant. He mistakes prudential adaptation for doctrinal rejection, and selective silence for theological reversal. If we are to honor our confessional heritage, and our spiritual fathers in the faith, we must resist efforts to drive an artificial wedge between the 1646 and 1788 editions. There is a coherent, charitable, and historically faithful reading—one that maintains continuity rather than rupture. It is this reading that best reflects the Confession’s wisdom, the American context, and the enduring vision of Christ’s crown rights over every sphere, including the civil magistrate.
Image: An alchemist in his laboratory, David Teniers the Younger (1610-1690). Wikimedia Commons.
