During recent years there has been an interesting shift in the attitude of many historians with regard to the relationship of Calvinism to the development of democracy. A generation ago, the contention that modern democracy was a daughter of Calvinism was eminently respectable in academic circles. The fact that modern democracy arose and put down its strongest roots in lands most deeply influenced by the Reformed faith—in England, Scotland, Holland, America and Switzerland—was regarded as self-evident confirmation of this contention.

What can the past tell us of the future of Christianity? Prophecy is notoriously fallible, especially for far distant years. Historians have seen so many predictions disproved by the event that they are wary of venturing upon the dangerous role of forecasters. Yet trends have a way of continuing. We may not be able to depict with accuracy the details of things to come. We may, however, by observing the directions which movements have been taking in the recent past and by noting the forces which are operating to modify them be able to foretell the main courses which they are to follow for the decades immediately before us. Certainly those who essay to shape policies must attempt such analyses. By their knowledge of the past historians should be of assistance in providing both facts about what has transpired and conjectures to aid in plotting the paths to be pursued.

The center from which Luther's utterances on social and political issues must be understood is the idea of the two kingdoms or “regimes.” In this area of his thought, even more than in others, it will not do to draw conclusions from fragmentary quotations occasioned by historical situations in which he felt called upon to take sides. By the exclusive use of carefully selected passages, one can prove that Luther regarded secular rulers as instruments of the devil and the adversaries of his cause; and one can prove that he regarded them as instruments of God who could do no wrong. In his defence against the frequent charges that he encouraged sedition and rebellion, he frequently appears servile in his relation to the authorities of civil and political life. It was not his nature to balance alternative courses of action against one another and say everything that could be said for both sides in the same treatise. He did his thinking in the midst of controversy and his writings are almost always directed toward or in behalf of the participants. When he wrote against the peasants he gave them “both barrels.” When he attacked the rulers of church or state he did the same. This does not mean, however, that there is no coherence in his thought. If one observes carefully the content of his criticisms, he will soon discover that they proceed from a firm and unchanging conviction regarding the origin of government and its function in the world.

The history of the patriarchates in the conciliar period of church history offers interesting parallels to that of the kingdoms and republics which had occupied the same territory in Hellenistic days. Like the Seleucid Empire, Antioch began with a leading position, which it gradually lost by secessions and internal divisions. The Patriarchate of Jerusalem revolted from Antioch in the fifth century A.D. as the Jews had under the Maccabees seven centuries before, although for less serious reasons. As the Hellenistic rulers of Asia Minor and Greece gradually lost out to Macedon and Rome, so the ecclesiastical jurisdictions of the same area were ultimately absorbed in the Patriarchates of Rome and Constantinople. But the closest parallel of all is in Egypt. As the Ptolemies built their power on a closely knit and almost impregnable kingdom, from which they ventured forth to take their part in the high politics of the Hellenistic world, so the patriarchs of Alexandria, backed by the united support of the Egyptian Church, took a leading part in the affairs of the great church for two centuries. After generations of splendor, the ecclesiastical, like the civil dynasty, was subject to internal divisions and harassed by external interference, and ended its career in war and catastrophe. The major aspects of this story are a familiar topic in church history, but it may repay another survey from the special point of view of the relation of church and state in Egypt.

Eighteenth century Delaware has one example of interchurch co-operation which is of interest to those engaged in such movements in our own day. Although the field of activity between the Church of Sweden and the Church of England extends beyond the borders of northern Delaware, yet in this limited area all the essential characteristics of the movement are to be found and can be examined in some detail. Beginning as two separate and distinct national churches, by means of friendly co-operation they became one church within less than a century.

When Nicholas, the first of that name, was consecrated pope on the twenty-fourth of April, 858, no one—least of all the Emperor Louis II, by whose favor the former deacon succeeded in obtaining the election—could have foreseen the series of political and ecclesiastical upheavals, more like the thunderbolts of Jupiter than the benedictions of St. Peter, by which the new occupant of the Holy See won fame for himself, prestige for the papacy, and the dignity of being called “the Great.” Few popes hold a more dominating place in the history of the Catholic Church than Nicholas I. In the course of his nine-year pontificate he so fully succeeded in establishing his pre-eminence in the late Carolingian world over both prince and prelate that he found it possible to attain his ends by the mere rumbling of thunder, without using the ecclesiastical lightning-bolt in any but the most extreme cases. The mere threat of excommunication often proved sufficient to move mighty kings and not-so-mighty emperors into the path of righteousness.

The concept of “democratic rights” does not greatly differ, I suppose, from that of human rights as these are understood by persons of democratic mind and temper. But the existence of human rights is recognized also by persons who could not, even with the most elastic use of words, be described as favorable to democratic principles. Some ambiguities and some prejudicial implications might have been avoided if the term “democratic” had not been used in the title. It seems to presuppose the superiority of a democratic order. That is a popular idea in our political and cultural climate, and I myself hold it with strong conviction; but it is not an axiom upon which a discussion of the rights of man can be based. Particularly, it is not an axiom from which one may profitably or properly begin a consideration of human rights as defined and defended in the Roman Catholic tradition. For while the idea of human rights has an important place in the general course of that tradition, the concept of democracy has a very small place.

On account of its influence upon many generations of Protestants, Calvin's Institutes of the Christian Religion may be regarded as the classical statement of the Protestant Christian faith. It reflects more clearly than any other book produced by the Reformation the thought which inaugurated the whole Protestant movement.

On April 10, 1931, the Supreme Judicial Court of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, acting under the doctrine of cypres, decreed that henceforth Andover Theological Seminary should forever be relieved of subscription to1 its creed and that “hereafter no professor should ever be called into question because of inconsistency with the creedal requirements of its Constitution and Statutes.”

One of the greatest achievements of the democratic state is the establishment of religious tolerance or the freedom of religion. This fact confronts the church with an opportunity that it has not yet fully realized. It still has to perform important tasks in connection with religious liberty. This is due mainly to the fact that it was by political and not by ecclesiastical action that the practice of tolerance was secured. To be sure, the fathers of American democracy were influenced by Christian ideas and movements when they provided for the freedom of religion, but these represented radical minorities within Christendom and not the larger churches. Indeed, the major impetus toward tolerance came as a reaction against the practice of persecution of religious minorities by majorities and it was inspired by a view of religion that was critical of the traditional religious and social reasons for intolerance.

In 1825, at the founding of the American Tract Society in New York, its leaders declared that with this event began “a new era in the history of the American churches.” Ten years earlier, American Protestants had formed the American Bible Society for the purpose of publishing and distributing the Bible “without note or comment.” Beyond this single endeavor, they felt, sectarian loyalties made common missionary effort impossible. But now, the co-operation in the new Tract Society “of various local institutions, and of Christians of different denominations” heralded an era of harmony among the churches, and of unity in the national body politic. More than this, churchmen and philanthropists believed that through the agency of the Tract Society, and of other benevolent organizations of national scope, the force of a united Protestantism would speedily evangelize America and the world.

A fresh study of early catechetical procedures, and an explanation of the instructions and techniques used in adult baptism in the early Church, are always welcome. Comparatively speaking, little has been done on the subject. This article makes no pretension of being a detailed study of the subject, but is only a partial treatment of it, with special emphasis upon the contributions of St. Augustine. Occasionally, references are drawn from Church canons and other early Church writings on the catechetical practice of the time.