Klaas Schilder’s Christ and Culture — Some Notes
Way back in the day (I mean way back — even before university), I got it into my head to take a Dutch course. The greatest part of my motivation was the desire to read famous Dutch theologians like Klaas Schilder in the original. So off I went, me and a good buddy, to study Dutch at an evening course offered by the adult education department of Edmonton Public Schools. After finishing the course, I got my hands on some books by old KS. One of them was a slim little volume entitled Christus en cultuur. Unfortunately, my Dutch skills were not up to snuff. I could make little sense of it. I gave up soon after beginning.
A few years later, I managed to get my own copy of an English translation of this book. Translated by Rev. G. VanRongen and Dr. W. Helder, it was published by Premier in 1976. I got more out of the English translation than I did from the Dutch, but there were large swathes that remained impenetrable. After reading some other stuff from Schilder, I reached the conclusion that either he was the most brilliantly flawed communicator in the world or I was one of the densest readers. He could have moments of profound insight, but it was like wading through thick brambles to access that beautiful little trout stream.
I recently discovered a new edition of Christ and Culture. It was published in 2016 by Lucerna, the publishing arm of the Canadian Reformed Theological Seminary. It is a new and much-improved translation by William Helder (who was involved with the first English translation) and Albert H. Oosterhoff. It also includes helpful explanatory notes, both from the translators and from a recent Dutch edition by Jochem Douma. As a result, many of the literary brambles have been cleared away and the insights of Schilder are more accessible.
Having read through this new edition, let me make a few notes, both of appreciation and criticism.
It is well-known that Schilder was an outspoken critic of Abraham Kuyper. Christ and Culture allows English readers access to some of his criticisms and their rationale. For example, in chapter 4, he critiques Kuyper’s concept of sphere sovereignty:
…Kuyper himself was not able to explain clearly what exactly those “sovereigns” in all those “spheres” might be. One single Sovereign — that is something we can accept and understand. But as soon as one begins to speak about “sovereigns” in the plural, each of them in his own sphere, things become vague. (16)
Chapters 18 and 26 feature Schilder’s critique of Kuyper’s teaching on common grace. When “the gifts of creation blossom and expand,” Schilder argues that it is not a matter of grace, but of nature. Cultural activity in itself does not involve grace, but godly cultural activity does. He agrees that there is a restraining of sin, but there is also a restraining of grace. Schilder’s critique is worth considering.
In the last number of years, Schilder’s name has been bandied about in connection with the Federal Vision controversy. In relation to that, it’s worth noting that chapter 14 finds Schilder affirming the active obedience of Christ. In chapter 16, some might be surprised to find KS appear to be speaking of a pre-fall covenant as something distinct from the covenant of grace. He even uses the common expression “covenant of works,” but places quotation marks around it — a device which indicates his discomfort with the “works” part of that expression. Unfortunately, the annotation of Douma gives the impression here that Schilder regarded the “covenant of works” as something essentially distinct from the later covenant of grace. In reality, Schilder elsewhere clearly regarded the covenant of grace as a continuation of the “covenant of works,” or another phase in the history of the one covenant (see here, for example). While I wish Douma’s note was the whole story, we do have to honestly acknowledge the facts.
While generally appreciative, there are a number of places where I’ve placed question marks in this book. In chapter 26, against Kuyper, KS argues that Calvinism should develop its own unique artistic style. That we don’t do this is a sign of weakness, he insists. What he means is that Dutch Calvinists should develop their own artistic style. He has no conception of what it might look like for an African-American Calvinist to develop his own artistic style, or an Australian aboriginal, or a Calvinist from whatever other culture in the world. This entire book, in fact, is quite insular — it was written for Dutch Reformed readers living in the 1950s who had no to little multicultural exposure. The book is a product of its time and thus the author can’t be held too culpable for this. When we think about Christ and culture today, however, we do need to reckon with a multicultural world.
Schilder appears to believe that the only worthwhile cultural endeavours result in educational outcomes. So, for example, he is rather critical of movies (he’s writing in the 1950s!) because though they exhibit technical excellence, they do not educate people. Hence, they are breaking down, rather than building up (page 119). But why is a pedagogical purpose the defining feature of what builds up? Why can’t a cleverly told story (whether on the screen or in a book) that’s written to delight not also be a worthwhile cultural endeavour? Is there no place for simple delight and enjoyment in a Christian conception of culture, or must everything have an educational purpose? I’m not convinced by Schilder here.
Though easier than before, this book is still not accessible reading for average church-goers. Sometimes I write about books and I get people asking me, “Should we buy this for our church library?” Umm….no, sorry. Even with all the helpful annotations, this remains rather thick theology. As such it’s best-suited for pastors, theologians, and academics. They’ll be challenged and enriched by its contents. I’m glad that we have this new improved edition and I commend CRTS for getting behind it.
