In Book IV of Calvin's Institutes, the ‘external means …by which God invites us into the society of Christ and holds us therein’ consists chiefly in ‘the true church, with which as mother of all the godly we must keep unity’. Like Luther, Calvin could speak of mater ecclesia with an unembarrassed reference to the visible, historical community of God's people. The rhetoric of ‘mother church’ did not long remain a part of Protestant sensibility. The Reformation principle of ‘Christ alone’ has often tended to undermine strong claims for the church; conversely, the critique of institutions has played a key role in the shaping of Protestant identity, at times seeming to be the very point of the Reformation. The distinction assumes classic form in Friedrich Schleiermacher's The Christian Faith. Protestant Christianity, Schleiermacher writes, ‘makes the individual's relation to the church dependent on his relation to Christ’, whereas Catholicism ‘makes the individual's relation to Christ dependent on his relation to the church’. This intuition would seem to be confirmed by recent ecumenical dialogue, which has fastened on the church's role in salvation as the most likely candidate for a ‘basic difference’ between Catholicism and Protestantism. At the same time, important voices on both sides have been asking whether such a sharp distinction can or should be sustained.

The relationship between theology and ethics has been largely determined in the modern era by the questions Immanuel Kant posed and the answers he gave. This contains a certain irony because in 1786 at Marburg Kant's philosophy was banned on the assumption that it threatened faith and morals. His demolition of the scholastic arguments for the existence of God were thought to be a threat to Christian faith. Many neo-kantians relished this challenge to theology and moved Kantianism in the very direction the orthodox authorities feared. By 1835 Heinrich Heine wrote an essay for French publication entitled, ‘On the history of religion in Germany'. He argued that Robespierre himself was unworthy of comparison with the revolutionary Kant. Robespierre may have lopped off a few royal heads but ‘Kant has stormed heaven, he has put the whole crew to the sword, the Supreme Lord of the world swims unproven in his own blood’. Perhaps Kant's ethics did not go as far as Heine asserted, but it did result in the marginalization of theology from ethics. Ethics was grounded in freedom alone. Theology could be consistent with ethics, but not determinative for it.

Dilthey, in his famous essay, ‘Die Enstehung der Hermeneutik’, first published in 1900, taught us that Matthias Flacius Illyricus, the mid sixteenth-century Lutheran theologian, was the author of the first significant treatise on hermeneutics. Conceding a classic Protestant opinion once articulated by Flacius, he consigned medieval interpretation to what must have seemed a justified oblivion: he simply ignored the period between Origen and John Calvin. Calvin, Flacius, and especially Friedrich Schleiermacher were the main contributors to the rediscovery of the interpretive force of history and language, which Dilthey surely felt was best appreciated by his own philosophy of culture. Hans-Georg Gadamer later tried to show that Dilthey himself was weak on language and misinformed about history, falling prey to the movement that Gadamer opprobriously called ‘historicism’. Gadamer's own view of the development of hermeneutics—with its subjection of historical knowledge to ‘our own present horizon of understanding’, its accent on language, and its debt to Martin Heidegger—shifted the chronology of hermeneutics even closer to the present According to Gadamer, the ‘hermeneutic problem’ was specifically created by the alienation of exegesis and understanding from ‘application’, the importance of which was discovered only by Romantic philosophy and best redressed with the help of a language-obsessed philosophy of being. But as was the case for Dilthey, the crucial moment in the development of hermeneutics remained the discovery of the role of language in ‘meaning’, in the broadest sense, so that texts could only be understood in the grand context of a philosophy of life or, in Gadamerian terms, in the context of a philosophy that functioned as present interpretation.

In my work as a theologian educating future pastors and teachers, I am concerned that too many of my students make no greater claim of Christ than that he was a ‘spirit person’, and construe his work as some variation on personal spiritual mentoring. Such reductionistic tendencies in understanding the person and work of Christ clearly owe more to certain iconoclastic voices in academia and current cultural sensibilities than they do classic Christian understandings of God and redemption. Whatever their source, such minimalist views can only weaken the Church's ministry. Fortunately, two other trends may supply helpful resources for a response. First, interest in the doctrine of the Trinity has re-emerged, across the theological spectrum. Similarly, new discussions have emerged around the doctrine of the atonement, such as the explicit feminist critiques of vicarious substitution theories or the promotion of prophetic/political models typical of members of the Jesus Seminar or responses to these and other issues. I propose to address this Christological reductionism by combining these two trends, adopting aspects of some new approaches while critiquing others. In so doing, I am motivated less by the desire to produce theological innovation than to demonstrate the theological integrity and pastoral value of several classic Christian traditions. Specifically, I will offer a constructive theological proposal connecting the Trinity with the rubrics of prophet, priest and king to explain Christ's diverse atoning work.