“The Modest Theologian” (Part 2)

by Herman Witsius
translated by Joseph A. Tipton

The following is part 2 of a translation of a portion of De Theologo Modesto, an inaugural address delivered by Herman Witsius (1636–1708) to the students and faculty of Leiden University (part 1 was published in the July/August 2021 issue of Modern Reformation). Witsius held positions at Franeker (1675–80) and Utrecht (1680–98) before receiving the invitation to join the faculty at Leiden, the most prestigious university in the Netherlands. The original text of this translation comes from Hermanni Witsii Miscellaneorum Sacrorum, tomus alter (Leiden, 1736). Because the original length of the address far exceeds the limits of this column, a portion of the address is being presented in two parts.

At the end of part 1, Witsius had made the point that the modest theologian learns much from others and appropriately attributes his learning to those from whom he learned. He continues:

At the same time, we must not think that the laws of modesty have been broken if someone who has spent a great deal of time and effort in studying the holy writings finds something in them that others, for all he knows, have not noticed, and then shares it openly with his brothers for their mutual edification. It would be sad indeed if the minds of well-bred men were prohibited from forging ahead and were not allowed to publish anything they could not cite some other previous authority for. Theology would be in quite a pitiful state if our theological predecessors had lived under the same constraint. How many wonderful ideas would we be without, ideas that we now treasure as gems of sacred learning! The goldmines of Holy Scripture have not yet been so depleted that there are no treasures left over for those who examine them closely, or a prize well worth the effort. To reject the commendation that follows upon a new discovery presented to the world is not a sign of a modest character, but an indolent one, just as begrudging others the same commendation is the mark of a spiteful spirit. In the same vein, I would not consider it modesty to think that once you have found a mentor for your studies either by chance or have purposely chosen one, you have to follow him unconditionally and not depart even an inch from his teaching. I recall how Galen relates an admirable statement made by Posidonius, who said “he preferred to abandon the group over abandoning the truth.”

And yet today we see a good number of people with this very mindset. Without any examination beforehand, refusing to admit any better explanation, they pledge allegiance to their teacher’s pronouncements and stubbornly defend beliefs that they have unthinkingly subscribed to. They do battle over these beliefs as though they fought for hearth and home and, because they cannot fight with weapons that will decide the matter, they use wooden swords and boxing gloves. They consider the full breadth and width of wisdom to be found in these teachings alone, and look down on whoever does not pay them the same homage as they do as though they were subhuman ignoramuses; or, what is no better, they slander and vilify them as though they were suspected of some newfangled abomination. This is not modesty. This is factionalism, unless we have completely lost all sense of what the real names for things are.

Besides the handling of the actual material, I would like this modesty in teaching to be just as apparent in a straightforward, gentle, and even-tempered comportment in presentation. One must treat the holy pronouncements of God winsomely, with faithful reverence and complete honesty, without any bias, with a pure spirit and in honorable language. We must not dishonor them with the trifling interpolations of human learning. We must not disfigure them with the confusing racket of insipid, barbarian expressions, nor conversely go beyond what decency dictates and dress them up in the cosmetics of oratory. The simpler and more straightforward all speech concerning things divine is, the better. And I also add: The gentler it is, the better. For one’s language most easily works its way into the minds of the audience, when it comes by way of a gentle and winsome demonstration of truth and expression of brotherly love.

Of course, I realize that sometimes there are occasions when men of God must take a stand on the frontlines and discharge their weapons on all sides against the sworn enemies of truth and godliness. At such times, one cannot use kid gloves. At such times, the tender dove of Christ, his gentle bride, whose lips otherwise taste of the honeycomb and whose tongue conceals milk and honey, becomes as fearsome as a many-bannered host [cf. Song of Songs 6:10]. She is like the tower of David built as an armory, from which hang a thousand shields, all bucklers of mighty men [cf. Song of Songs 4:4]. At such times, we must fight a valiant battle. At such times, we must defend the faith once delivered to the saints [cf. Jude 3], and must not be so unacquainted with war that we allow it to be corrupted in even a syllable or pen stroke. At such times messengers of peace become knights in full armor, formidable pancratiasts [ancient Greek wrestlers or boxers], no different than those sixty mighty men who stood around Solomon’s bed, all with swords drawn and skilled in the wars of Jehovah [cf. Song of Songs 3:7–8].[1]

However, in these selfsame battles a spirit of Christian gentleness must shine through no less than a spirit of Christian fortitude, so that it is clear we are waging war against sin and error rather than against the people in error. This righteous combat must aim at securing their salvation. I never have been able to bring myself to give unqualified praise to the unrestrained savagery that theologians, ancient or modern, often exhibit when responding to their opponents. They insult them with name-calling, dubbing them dogs, swine, idiots, and other such things, and rain down upon them a hailstorm of abusive language. I grant that Athanasius, Gregory of Nazianzus, Basil, Jerome, and others behaved in such a way. They openly criticized and slandered in biting and humiliating invectives the ones who challenged what they taught, though the latter were men who otherwise abounded in virtue and sometimes deserved respect for the imperial status they held. And I grant that those great heroes in our fathers’ generation whose names shall live forever, whom God was pleased to use to scatter the dense, thick fog of ignorance and superstition, behaved in such a way. Yet for my part, gentlemen, I prefer to attribute this use of abusive language to the errors of the age and the character of those men (after all, however holy they might have been, they were still men) and pardon them for it in light of their other resplendent virtues rather than use the example of the prophets and apostles, and even Christ himself, to exonerate them and hold them up as models to emulate. The criterion given to us by the apostle and brother of our Lord Jesus Christ will always carry more weight with me. Thanks to him we have these wonderful words: “Who is wise and endowed with learning among you? Let him show it in a good manner of living, his works being done with wise meekness” [James 3:13]. And elsewhere he says, “The wisdom that is from above is first and foremost self-controlled. Secondly, it seeks to make peace, to be fair, to give in. It is full of mercy and good fruit. It does not discriminate. It is in no way fake” [James 3:17].

And it makes the kind of theologian we are discussing the same way, not only in his learning, but in the overall way he lives his life. Wherever this heavenly wisdom enters deep into one’s heart and rightly claims it as its own, vitriol, envy, quarrelsomeness, troublesomeness, and every sort of bad behavior will be notified to vacate the premises. Meekness, gentleness, patiently bearing wrongs done to you and a spirit of peace—a precious thing—will there assume a blessed and happy command along with an abundance of everything good. Satyrus, the brother of Ambrose, shall there come back to life, a man who was “easy to apologize to, impervious to ambition, committed to innocence.”[2] For such is the way Ambrose characterizes him. No one shall hear an absurd vaunting of undeserved praise, especially when it pertains to oneself, that is coupled with the berating of others who may very well be by far their betters, and more learned. The shameless scheming and interfering in business not their own[3] by brash men who strive to wrest control of everything, despite the fact that Peter execrated such behavior, shall not throw the interests of the Church or Academy into confusion. Content with whatever bone it is one’s lot to chew on, each man shall give his attention to his own business and keep his nose out of that of others. Factions shall not arise. Debates shall not be drawn out in endless Tuscan counter-questions.[4] Brother will not fight brother in disputes that will end in victory for neither party. The dark cloud of envy shall not hang over anyone’s learning and virtue. The undeserving man shall not win advancement because he supports a party, while the most deserving shall not be blocked because he happens to disagree on a few minor points.

Finally, one cannot put into words how many blessings a spirit of modesty shall bring to the republic of letters and religion. What shall render a person’s spirit teachable and submissive to the utterances of God? Modesty. What shall keep and deter one from a foolhardy profanation of awe-inspiring mysteries? Modesty. What shall convince lovers of the truth through a quickening flood into the heart that the teachings of our most holy religion are true? The modesty of those who expound it. What shall either keep lamentable disputes from happening or settle them if they do? What shall resolve controversies which, though destructive, are often prosecuted with great energy? Modesty. When it is absolutely impossible to avoid fighting for the cause of God, what shall secure victory more easily and honorably? A spirit of modesty in the fighter. What shall drive out the senseless desire for introducing new ideas? What shall drive out partisanship and destructive factionalism that plague the Church and Academy? Modesty. What shall unite hearts and hands and produce sacred pacts of lasting peace and friendship? Again, a spirit of modesty.

O holy, blessed Modesty, you who ward off all these terrible afflictions and produce such great blessings, where on earth do you flee? Why do you remove yourself from our sight and cruelly abandon those who waste away yearning for you? Stay your course! Grant us your favor and return! Occupy our hearts and establish in them the throne of your gentle and peaceful sway. Own this university, this chair devoted to your rites. Even as Envy protests, even as Discord rails, even as Ambition gnashes her teeth, let all of Hell’s evils be trampled underfoot, whatever opposes lasting tranquility be sent into exile, and bless us eternally with your protection and gifts!

Forgive me, gentlemen, for speaking as one divinely seized. You might have thought I had been overcome by my ardent love and longing for sacred modesty and, all but transported elsewhere, had forgotten both myself and you. Best rest assured I do not forget us when I attempt to win for us the favor of Modesty, the Queen of the Virtues, and invite her in earnest prayer to make here an everlasting home for herself.

Concluding Prayer

Thou, bounteous God, everlasting fount of all grace and wisdom, assist our efforts and inspire those who teach as well as those who learn with reverence for Thy name and power.[5] Preserve this university, this country, this Church, and enrich them with the wealth of thy grace. Preserve the Most Serene King of England, the stay of the Academy, the liberator of his country, the defender of the Church, and lavish upon him health and life stretching over years to come. Preserve and bestow all manner of blessings upon the eminent and most noble governors not only of this institution of higher learning, but of the entire republic as well, guardians in the true sense of the word. Under their governance, “may Unity and Virtue return, and may Godliness stride together with Faith with heads held high.”[6] In thy mercy keep far from us the evils we have deserved, and in thy kindness bestow upon us the blessings we have not. Last of all, favor us thyself with thy good gifts and grant that our good fortune be an everlasting one.

This concludes my speech.

Joseph A. Tipton is a researcher in the field of early modern literature. His primary focus is on the Reformers’ use of classical Greek and Latin literature to represent and forward their own project of reform. He has published on the German neo-Latin poets Petrus Lotichius and Simon Stenius. Also active as a translator of Greek and Latin texts, Dr. Tipton has translated books two and three of Peter Martyr Vermigli’s Commonplaces for the Davenant Institute and is currently working on Samuel Rutherford’s Dictates on the Doctrine of Scripture for Reformation Heritage. Dr. Tipton lives in Orlando, Florida, where he teaches Greek and Latin at The Geneva School.