-- Calvin’s Response to Pighius’s Use of His Work
Pighius begins his argument on free will by connecting the knowledge of God and humanity, a structure that I also used in my Institutes because it’s effective for teaching. While I appreciate his choice of arrangement, I’m surprised by his audacity in lifting material from my work without acknowledgment, inserting my ideas into his book as though they were his own.
Pighius doesn’t borrow subtly; he copies my words verbatim, sometimes entire passages, showing no effort to disguise his plagiarism. He seems to assume that his readers, who avoid our works out of loyalty to him, won’t recognize the theft. This dishonesty is apparent to anyone who compares his first chapter to the first chapter of my Institutes, or his section on justification to my sixth chapter. Such a comparison would reveal his blatant use of my words, allowing him to parade them as his own insights.
Reflecting on this, I suspect his plagiarism isn’t due to mere laziness but confidence that his readers will praise anything critical of us, regardless of integrity. He enjoys acclaim among those who avoid our writings and uncritically accept attacks against us. Yet, for those who seek the truth, my Institutes stands as a witness to his lack of honesty and gratitude. I hadn’t intended to address this, but his unearned boasting about our supposed lack of intelligence compelled me to clarify this matter.
Beyond borrowing, Pighius distorts my arguments on the nature of human choice. His main claim is that we only understand God’s justice when we believe our wills have true freedom, allowing us to choose good or evil. He attempts to counter our teachings, primarily focusing his attacks on me as the representative of what he dismissively calls “our sect.” This approach characterizes the end of his first book.
Pighius argues that our teachings on human will are unreasonable and absurd, accusing Luther of telling people to abandon common sense in favor of "blind faith." He mocks Luther’s advice to abandon fleshly reason, as though trusting in God requires people to discard their minds. Pighius criticizes this as an insult to reason and a contradiction of the Apostle Paul, who says faith comes from hearing. He even implies that, by Luther’s view, infants and those without reason would be best suited for faith.
But Pighius misses Paul’s point. Paul teaches that "the natural man does not accept the things of the Spirit of God" because spiritual truths are understood only through God’s revelation. In other words, worldly wisdom is limited in grasping spiritual realities. Paul reminds us that “the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God” and that true wisdom begins when we recognize the limitations of human understanding before God. Pighius may mock this, but Paul himself insists that human wisdom must humble itself to receive God’s truth.
Turning to Luther’s views on free will, Pighius reduces Luther’s position to two charges: first, that human free will has no real power since the fall, and second, that everything is governed by necessity rather than chance. Under this criticism, Pighius argues that Luther’s view denies people the ability to prepare themselves to receive God’s grace, renders the law impossible to keep, and makes good works meaningless.
In response, let’s clarify what Luther intended. He wasn’t dismissing the value of good works or denying that God rewards them. Rather, he emphasized that good works, in themselves, do not earn merit before God but are pleasing to Him because of His grace. Luther wanted to correct the dangerous belief that good works have inherent power to secure salvation. The world, lulled by false confidence in human effort, needed a strong message—a wake-up call to show that only God’s mercy makes our works acceptable.
In summary, Luther argued that good works, to be truly righteous, would need to flow from perfect love for God—a perfection we can’t achieve on our own. This isn’t to discourage good works, but to remind us that they are valued by God’s grace, not by their own merit.
Pighius objects to our teachings on human imperfection in good works, claiming that this view insults the Holy Spirit, who enables such works. However, we must distinguish between what originates from human effort and what is from the Spirit. Even when the saints sincerely strive to obey God, they fall short of loving Him with all their heart, soul, and strength, as the law commands. This human weakness means no work is entirely pure or flawless, and when measured by God’s perfect standard, even the best works show some blemish.
Pighius insists it’s unreasonable to judge a good work as flawed due to minor imperfections. But just as a small drop of sourness can ruin the taste of wine, even a slight flaw renders a work imperfect before God. Under the Mosaic Law, anything holy that came into contact with impurity was considered unclean, showing that human imperfection taints what might otherwise be good. Thus, while good works are pleasing to God by His grace, they are not inherently meritorious.
On the topic of free will, Pighius accuses us of inconsistency, alleging that we grant some freedom in earthly matters but deny it in spiritual ones. He also claims that we rely on “deceit” to spread our teaching, and questions our respect for Luther’s views. However, these accusations are baseless. We hold Luther in high regard, recognizing his immense contributions to the restoration of the gospel. Regarding our doctrine, we remain fully committed to our original principles, even if we refine how we express them for clarity and accessibility as we grow in understanding. Adjusting the language to better communicate our message to others is not the same as changing our beliefs.
Pighius further accuses us of being obscure and inconsistent, implying that we hide behind complicated language to deceive others. But his accusation is unfounded. We aim for clarity and simplicity so the teachings of Christ are accessible to everyone, and our so-called “obscurity” only bothers those unwilling to understand. Pighius merely resorts to rhetoric, trying to discredit us with charges of obscurity without basis.
In truth, our writings are clear enough for honest readers, and any differences in expression do not indicate doctrinal disagreement but a shared commitment to proclaiming the gospel in a way that reaches as many as possible. Pighius’s criticisms aim to sow distrust in those who don’t actually read our work, disregarding those who are genuinely familiar with our writings.
Pighius begins by using my own words to outhne our shared beliefs, although he tries to minimize our agreement by nitpicking individual differences. He wants to oppose all of us together but struggles to define his arguments consistently. He grudgingly acknowledges our unity, yet seeks to discredit us by misrepresenting and oversimplifying my views.
Pighius also accuses me of taking statements from Church Fathers like Chrysostom out of context and altering their meaning. But his criticisms are baseless and show a lack of understanding. He dismisses foundational beliefs, such as the inner conflict believers feel as they grow in holiness—a reality that is clear to anyone who has experienced the Christian life.
Pighius then mocks us for preaching and teaching if we believe that faith is ultimately a gift from God rather than the result of human effort. He argues that, if faith depends solely on God’s work, then our teaching and exhortations are pointless. But this thinking shows a misunderstanding of how God works through means. Just as farmers sow seed, knowing that only God makes it grow, we preach because God uses the gospel to accomplish His will in people’s hearts. Our labor isn’t useless; it’s part of God’s appointed means.
The Scriptures remind us that even our daily sustenance depends on God, not merely on food. When God provided manna, He was teaching that “man does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from God.” Pighius might argue that we still live partly by bread, but the truth is that food itself has no power to nourish us apart from God’s blessing. God can sustain us with or without bread, showing that His providence alone is sufficient.
Similarly, the apostle Paul compares himself to a gardener, noting that while he plants and waters, only God gives growth. If we were to say, as Paul does, that our work is “nothing” without God, Pighius would mock us for wasting our effort. Yet Paul makes it clear that his effectiveness comes from the Spirit of God, not from his own skill or strength.
Pighius’s argument misses the point: God ordained the gospel as the means by which His Spirit brings people to faith. Our teaching and preaching serve His purposes, not because we create faith, but because God has chosen to use our words as instruments of His grace. Therefore, our labor is not empty or in vain; it fulfills God’s purpose, which He has promised to bless.
Pighius mocks us by suggesting that we preach “without purpose or reason,” as if we are compelled blindly. But he misunderstands our motivation. We don’t engage in this ministry by our own wisdom or random chance; rather, we are guided by God’s purposeful call and the power of the Holy Spirit.
Our calling is similar to Paul’s, who knew from birth that he was chosen for God’s work and waited until God’s appointed time to begin. We preach because we believe, as Paul and Augustine did, that it is God’s will for us to share His Word so that those who are ready to hear may come to faith. We know that God uses human means to reach many, even if He gives understanding to some without such help.
While our preaching may be a means to faith, whenever someone truly listens and obeys, it is ultimately a gift from God.