Young people today too are searching for some sense of purpose to which they can apply their gifts. They too can be tempted to avoid great conflicts that threaten their personal peace. But often they will find God’s will, and their own purpose, only as they engage the conflicts. They must be prepared to pay a price, as Calvin did, in leaving the places that are comfortable to them and sometimes being parted from dear friends who go in different directions.

Lutherans have it easy lifting up their Reformation hero. Martin Luther—bold, amusing, pugnacious, even crude at times—makes an unforgettable character. What playwright or filmmaker could resist the scene with the defenseless monk standing before the nobles of the empire and refusing to recant because “my conscience is captive to the Word of God”?

We Presbyterians and Reformed have it harder. Our man, John Calvin, is not a cartoon superhero. The predominant image of the Genevan reformer is a thin, bearded old man with a look that is dignified, bordering on dour. Calvin was a scholar whose masterpiece, the weighty Institutes of the Christian Religion, was not an instant bestseller like Luther’s fiery pamphlets. He was not given to dramatic gestures, witty repartee, or autobiographical introspection. If the vote for “Reformer of the Millennium” were taken on the basis of “With whom would you rather have a beer?” Calvin wouldn’t have a chance. The German guy win hands-down.

Yet there is a strong argument to be made that the diffident Calvin was indeed the Reformer of the Millennium. It was he who best explained and institutionalized a renewed Christian faith that went back to the Biblical sources. There is also a story to be told about Calvin: how a man who had no ambition to be a leader of any sort nevertheless found himself guiding a great Reformation. Realizing the dramatic potential in that story is the challenge undertaken in a new play,“Becoming Calvin,” which premiered September 14-23 in Washington, DC.

For the most part, playwright Ann Timmons meets the challenge. Without overt violence and with only a brief romantic aside – Calvin’s happy marriage to the widow Idelette de Bure – Timmons manages to dramatize what is essentially an internal struggle: How would a promising young intellectual find his way through a confusing and dangerous time in the France of the 1530s? Would he follow his penchant for a quiet and studious life, avoiding the religious and political conflicts swirling around him? Or would he risk it all, throwing himself into the conflicts?

The play opens in 1527 with Calvin and a circle of friends as students in Paris. Jonathan Lee Taylor portrays the future reformer as a wiry, energetic young man, yet unsure of his vocation – quite unlike the magisterial figure of later years. We see Calvin and his friends’ excitement at new movements to study the Bible in the original languages and reform a corrupt Catholic Church. A powerful scene at his father’s sickbed shows Calvin’s disgust at the abusive ecclesiastics who had excommunicated the father.

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