‘All the gifts of God set forth in baptism,’ wrote John Calvin, ‘are found in Christ alone’ (Inst. IV.15.6). The baptismal gifts, for Calvin, were essentially three: forgiveness of sins, dying and rising with Christ, and communion with Christ himself (FV.15.1, 5, 6). They were ordered, however, in a particular way. Communion with Christ, Calvin considered, was in effect the one inestimable gift that included within itself the other two benefits of forgiveness and rising with Christ from the dead. Forgiveness and eternal life were thus inseparable from Christ's person and so from participatio Christi through our communion with him. Only by participating in Christ through communion could the divine gifts set forth in baptism be truly received. Any severing of these gifts from Christ himself would result only in empty abstractions. No spiritual gift—neither forgiveness nor eternal life nor any other divine benefit—was ever to be found alongside Christ or apart from him. Christ's saving benefits were inherent in his living person. Only in and with his person were they set forth and available to the church. Communion with Christ was thus bound up with Christ's person in his saving uniqueness. He himself and he alone, for Calvin and for the whole Reformation, was our wisdom, righteousness, sanctification and redemption (1 Cor. 1:30).

Søren Kierkegaard delivered a scathing critique of certain German philosophies that arose in the wake of the Aufklärung. In this respect he is most well known for focusing most of his attacks against Hegelian idealism, although it is important to remember that he also found the time to attack aspects of the theological Rationalism and Romanticism that he had encountered during his university studies. Unfortunately for us he chose a rather eccentric way in which to do this. Inspired by the literary techniques of German Romantic ironists such as Friedrich Schlegel and Ludwig Tieck, Kierkegaard chose largely to mask his thoughts beneath levels of irony and pseudonyms. Each one of these pseudonyms personified specific traits of his chosen opponents.

St Anselm of Canterbury is famous on two counts: he is the originator of the ontological argument for the existence of God and he is the source of the satisfaction theory of the atonement. These positions do not exhaust his theological contribution; he also wrote works defending and defining Western Trinitarian doctrine, against Sabellianism and tritheism, and arguing for the filioque; he wrote on the Incarnation; and was influential in modifying Augustine's account of the transmission of original sin. There is also a collection of meditations and prayers, traditionally attributed to St Anselm, which at their best rank alongside almost any devotional literature of the medieval period. His memory, however, is firmly attached today to just the two points with which I began. It would not be an exaggeration to claim that on both he has been fundamentally misunderstood by the popular accounts of his thought given in theological and philosophical introductions and histories; these misreadings have been pointed out often enough, but are still regularly repeated.

The question of what it means to be a person is hardly new in theology, but it has arguably been posed with renewed urgency over the past generation. On the one hand, traditional answers have been challenged by those whose personhood had long been viewed inside and outside the church as somehow inferior or deficient (especially men of colour, and women of all backgrounds). On the other, reflection on the situation of people suffering from severe mental retardation, psychosis and dementia (not to mention the debates over abortion and euthanasia) has cast doubt on ancient and modern attempts to understand personhood in terms of self-consciousness or some other mental capacity.