and he knew that this notice would be speedily followed by his
condemnation. Threatening clouds overhung his path; but as he departed
from Worms, his heart was filled with joy and praise. “The devil himself,”
said he, “guarded the pope’s citadel; but Christ has made a wide breach in
it, and Satan was constrained to confess that the Lord is mightier than
he.”(236)
After his departure, still desirous that his firmness should not be
mistaken for rebellion, Luther wrote to the emperor. “God, who is the
searcher of hearts, is my witness,” he said, “that I am ready most
earnestly to obey your majesty, in honor or in dishonor, in life or in
death, and with no exception save the word of God, by which man lives. In
all the affairs of this present life, my fidelity shall be unshaken, for
here to lose or to gain is of no consequence to salvation. But when
eternal interests are concerned, God wills not that man should submit unto
man. For such submission in spiritual matters is a real worship, and ought
to be rendered solely to the Creator.”(237)
On the journey from Worms, Luther’s reception was even more flattering
than during his progress thither. Princely ecclesiastics welcomed the
excommunicated monk, and civil rulers honored the man whom the emperor had
denounced. He was urged to preach, and notwithstanding the imperial
prohibition, he again entered the pulpit. “I never pledged myself to chain
up the word of God,” he said, “nor will I.”(238)
He had not been long absent from Worms, when the papists prevailed upon
the emperor to issue an edict against him. In this decree Luther was
denounced as “Satan himself under the form of a man and dressed in a
monk’s frock.”(239) It was commanded that as soon as his safe-conduct
should expire, measures be taken to stop his work. All persons were
forbidden to harbor him, to give him food or drink, or by word or act, in
public or private, to aid or abet him. He was to be seized wherever he
might be, and delivered to the authorities. His adherents also were to be
imprisoned, and their property confiscated. His writings were to be
destroyed, and finally, all who should dare to act contrary to this decree
were included in its condemnation. The elector of Saxony, and the princes
most friendly to Luther, had left Worms soon after his departure, and the
emperor’s decree received the sanction of the Diet. Now the Romanists were
jubilant. They considered the fate of the Reformation sealed.
God had provided a way of escape for His servant in this hour of peril. A
vigilant eye had followed Luther’s movements, and a true and noble heart
had resolved upon his rescue. It was plain that Rome would be satisfied
with nothing short of his death; only by concealment could he be preserved
from the jaws of the lion. God gave wisdom to Frederick of Saxony to
devise a plan for the Reformer’s preservation. With the co-operation of
true friends, the elector’s purpose was carried out, and Luther was
effectually hidden from friends and foes. Upon his homeward journey, he
was seized, separated from his attendants, and hurriedly conveyed through
the forest to the castle of Wartburg, an isolated mountain fortress. Both
his seizure and his concealment were so involved in mystery that even
Frederick himself for a long time knew not whither he had been conducted.
This ignorance was not without design; so long as the elector knew nothing
of Luther’s whereabouts, he could reveal nothing. He satisfied himself
that the Reformer was safe, and with this knowledge he was content.
Spring, summer, and autumn passed, and winter came, and Luther still
remained a prisoner. Aleander and his partisans exulted as the light of
the gospel seemed about to be extinguished. But instead of this, the
Reformer was filling his lamp from the storehouse of truth; and its light
was to shine forth with brighter radiance.
In the friendly security of the Wartburg, Luther for a time rejoiced in
his release from the heat and turmoil of battle. But he could not long
find satisfaction in quiet and repose. Accustomed to a life of activity
and stern conflict, he could ill endure to remain inactive. In those
solitary days, the condition of the church rose up before him, and he
cried in despair, “Alas! there is no one in this latter day of His anger,
to stand like a wall before the Lord, and save Israel!”(240) Again, his
thoughts returned to himself, and he feared being charged with cowardice
in withdrawing from the contest. Then he reproached himself for his
indolence and self-indulgence. Yet at the same time he was daily
accomplishing more than it seemed possible for one man to do. His pen was
never idle. While his enemies flattered themselves that he was silenced,
they were astonished and confused by tangible proof that he was still
active. A host of tracts, issuing from his pen, circulated throughout
Germany. He also performed a most important service for his countrymen by
translating the New Testament into the German tongue. From his rocky
Patmos he continued for nearly a whole year to proclaim the gospel, and
rebuke the sins and errors of the times.
But it was not merely to preserve Luther from the wrath of his enemies,
nor even to afford him a season of quiet for these important labors, that
God had withdrawn His servant from the stage of public life. There were
results more precious than these to be secured. In the solitude and
obscurity of his mountain retreat, Luther was removed from earthly
supports, and shut out from human praise. He was thus saved from the pride
and self-confidence that are so often caused by success. By suffering and
humiliation he was prepared again to walk safely upon the dizzy heights to
which he had been so suddenly exalted.
As men rejoice in the freedom which the truth brings them, they are
inclined to extol those whom God has employed to break the chains of error
and superstition. Satan seeks to divert men’s thoughts and affections from
God, and to fix them upon human agencies; he leads them to honor the mere
instrument, and to ignore the Hand that directs all the events of
providence. Too often, religious leaders who are thus praised and
reverenced lose sight of their dependence upon God, and are led to trust
in themselves. As a result, they seek to control the minds and consciences
of the people, who are disposed to look to them for guidance instead of
looking to the word of God. The work of reform is often retarded because
of this spirit indulged by its supporters. From this danger, God would
guard the cause of the Reformation. He desired that work to receive, not
the impress of man, but that of God. The eyes of men had been turned to
Luther as the expounder of the truth; he was removed that all eyes might
be directed to the eternal Author of truth.
9. THE SWISS REFORMER.
[Illustration: Chapter header.]
In the choice of instrumentalities for the reforming of the church, the
same divine plan is seen as in that for the planting of the church. The
heavenly Teacher passed by the great men of earth, the titled and wealthy,
who were accustomed to receive praise and homage as leaders of the people.
They were so proud and self-confident in their boasted superiority that
they could not be moulded to sympathize with their fellow-men, and to
become co-laborers with the humble Man of Nazareth. To the unlearned,
toiling fishermen of Galilee was the call addressed, “Follow Me, and I
will make you fishers of men.”(241) These disciples were humble and
teachable. The less they had been influenced by the false teaching of
their time, the more successfully could Christ instruct and train them for
His service. So in the days of the Great Reformation. The leading
Reformers were men from humble life,—men who were most free of any of
their time from pride of rank, and from the influence of bigotry and
priestcraft. It is God’s plan to employ humble instruments to accomplish
great results. Then the glory will not be given to men, but to Him who
works through them to will and to do of His own good pleasure.
A few weeks after the birth of Luther in a miner’s cabin in Saxony, Ulric
Zwingle was born in a herdsman’s cottage among the Alps. Zwingle’s
surroundings in childhood, and his early training, were such as to prepare
him for his future mission. Reared amid scenes of natural grandeur,
beauty, and awful sublimity, his mind was early impressed with a sense of
the greatness, the power, and the majesty of God. The history of the brave
deeds achieved upon his native mountains, kindled his youthful
aspirations. And at the side of his pious grandmother he listened to the
few precious Bible stories which she had gleaned from amid the legends and
traditions of the church. With eager interest he heard of the grand deeds
of patriarchs and prophets, of the shepherds who watched their flocks on
the hills of Palestine where angels talked with them, of the Babe of
Bethlehem and the Man of Calvary.
Like John Luther, Zwingle’s father desired an education for his son, and
the boy was early sent from his native valley. His mind rapidly developed,
and it soon became a question where to find teachers competent to instruct
him. At the age of thirteen he went to Bern, which then possessed the most
distinguished school in Switzerland. Here, however, a danger arose which
threatened to blight the promise of his life. Determined efforts were put
forth by the friars to allure him into a monastery. The Dominican and
Franciscan monks were in rivalry for popular favor. This they endeavored
to secure by the showy adornments of their churches, the pomp of their
ceremonials, and the attractions of famous relics and miracle-working
images.
The Dominicans of Bern saw that if they could win this talented young
scholar, they would secure both gain and honor. His extreme youth, his
natural ability as a speaker and writer, and his genius for music and
poetry, would be more effective than all their pomp and display, in
attracting the people to their services and increasing the revenues of
their order. By deceit and flattery they endeavored to induce Zwingle to
enter their convent. Luther, while a student at school, had buried himself
in a convent cell, and he would have been lost to the world had not God’s
providence released him. Zwingle was not permitted to encounter the same
peril. Providentially his father received information of the designs of
the friars. He had no intention of allowing his son to follow the idle and
worthless life of the monks. He saw that his future usefulness was at
stake, and directed him to return home without delay.
The command was obeyed; but the youth could not be long content in his
native valley, and he soon resumed his studies, repairing, after a time,
to Basel. It was here that Zwingle first heard the gospel of God’s free
grace. Wittembach, a teacher of the ancient languages, had, while studying
Greek and Hebrew, been led to the Holy Scriptures, and thus rays of divine
light were shed into the minds of the students under his instruction. He
declared that there was a truth more ancient, and of infinitely greater
worth, than the theories taught by schoolmen and philosophers. This
ancient truth was that the death of Christ is the sinner’s only ransom. To
Zwingle these words were as the first ray of light that precedes the dawn.
Zwingle was soon called from Basel, to enter upon his life-work. His first
field of labor was in an Alpine parish, not far distant from his native
valley. Having received ordination as a priest, he “devoted himself with
his whole soul to the search after divine truth; for he was well aware,”
says a fellow-reformer, “how much he must know to whom the flock of Christ
is entrusted.”(242) The more he searched the Scriptures, the clearer
appeared the contrast between their truths and the heresies of Rome. He
submitted himself to the Bible as the word of God, the only sufficient,
infallible rule. He saw that it must be its own interpreter. He dared not
attempt to explain Scripture to sustain a preconceived theory or doctrine,
but held it his duty to learn what is its direct and obvious teaching. He
sought to avail himself of every help to obtain a full and correct
understanding of its meaning, and he invoked the aid of the Holy Spirit,
which would, he declared, reveal it to all who sought it in sincerity and
with prayer.
“The Scriptures,” said Zwingle, “come from God, not from man, and even
that God who enlightens will give thee to understand that the speech comes
from God. The word of God ... cannot fail; it is bright, it teaches
itself, it discloses itself, it illumines the soul with all salvation and
grace, comforts it in God, humbles it, so that it loses and even forfeits
itself, and embraces God.”(243) The truth of these words Zwingle himself
had proved. Speaking of his experience at this time, he afterward wrote:
“When ... I began to give myself wholly up to the Holy Scriptures,
philosophy and theology (scholastic) would always keep suggesting quarrels
to me. At last I came to this, that I thought, ‘Thou must let all that
lie, and learn the meaning of God purely out of His own simple word.’ Then
I began to ask God for His light, and the Scriptures began to be much
easier to me.”(244)
The doctrine preached by Zwingle was not received from Luther. It was the
doctrine of Christ. “If Luther preaches Christ,” said the Swiss Reformer,
“he does what I am doing. Those whom he has brought to Christ are more
numerous than those whom I have led. But this matters not. I will bear no
other name than that of Christ, whose soldier I am, and who alone is my
chief. Never has one single word been written by me to Luther, nor by
Luther to me. And why?... That it might be shown how much the Spirit of
God is in unison with itself, since both of us, without any collusion,
teach the doctrine of Christ with such uniformity.”(245)
In 1516 Zwingle was invited to become a preacher in the convent at
Einsiedeln. Here he was to have a closer view of the corruptions of Rome,
and was to exert an influence as a Reformer that would be felt far beyond
his native Alps. Among the chief attractions of Einsiedeln was an image of
the Virgin which was said to have the power of working miracles. Above the
gateway of the convent was the inscription, “Here a plenary remission of
sins may be obtained.”(246) Pilgrims at all seasons resorted to the shrine
of the Virgin, but at the great yearly festival of its consecration,
multitudes came from all parts of Switzerland, and even from France and
Germany. Zwingle, greatly afflicted at the sight, seized the opportunity
to proclaim liberty through the gospel to these bond-slaves of
superstition.
“Do not imagine,” he said, “that God is in this temple more than in any
other part of creation. Whatever be the country in which you dwell, God is
around you, and hears you.... Can unprofitable works, long pilgrimages,
offerings, images, the invocation of the Virgin or of the saints, secure
for you the grace of God?... What avails the multitude of words with which
we embody our prayers? What efficacy has a glossy cowl, a smooth-shorn
head, a long and flowing robe, or gold-embroidered slippers?... God looks
at the heart, and our hearts are far from Him.” “Christ,” he said, “who
was once offered upon the cross, is the sacrifice and victim, that had
made satisfaction for the sins of believers to all eternity.”(247)
To many listeners these teachings were unwelcome. It was a bitter
disappointment to them to be told that their toilsome journey had been
made in vain. The pardon freely offered to them through Christ they could
not comprehend. They were satisfied with the old way to heaven which Rome
had marked out for them. They shrank from the perplexity of searching for
anything better. It was easier to trust their salvation to the priests and
the pope than to seek for purity of heart.
But another class received with gladness the tidings of redemption through
Christ. The observances enjoined by Rome had failed to bring peace of
soul, and in faith they accepted the Saviour’s blood as their
propitiation. These returned to their homes to reveal to others the
precious light which they had received. The truth was thus carried from
hamlet to hamlet, from town to town, and the number of pilgrims to the
Virgin’s shrine greatly lessened. There was a falling off in the
offerings, and consequently in the salary of Zwingle, which was drawn from
them. But this caused him only joy as he saw that the power of fanaticism
and superstition was being broken.
The authorities of the church were not blind to the work which Zwingle was
accomplishing; but for the present they forbore to interfere. Hoping yet
to secure him to their cause, they endeavored to win him by flatteries;
and meanwhile the truth was gaining a hold upon the hearts of the people.
Zwingle’s labors at Einsiedeln had prepared him for a wider field, and
this he was soon to enter. After three years here, he was called to the
office of preacher in the cathedral at Zurich. This was then the most
important town of the Swiss confederacy, and the influence exerted here
would be widely felt. The ecclesiastics by whose invitation he came to
Zurich were, however, desirous of preventing any innovations, and they
accordingly proceeded to instruct him as to his duties.
“You will make every exertion,” they said, “to collect the revenues of the
chapter, without overlooking the least. You will exhort the faithful, both
from the pulpit and in the confessional, to pay all tithes and dues, and
to show by their offerings their affection to the church. You will be
diligent in increasing the income arising from the sick, from masses, and
in general from every ecclesiastical ordinance.” “As for the
administration of the sacraments, the preaching, and the care of the
flock,” added his instructors, “these are also the duties of the chaplain.
But for these you may employ a substitute, and particularly in preaching.
You should administer the sacraments to none but persons of note, and only
when called upon; you are forbidden to do so without distinction of
persons.”(248)
Zwingle listened in silence to this charge, and in reply, after expressing
his gratitude for the honor of a call to this important station, he
proceeded to explain the course which he proposed, to adopt. “The life of
Christ,” he said, “has been too long hidden from the people. I shall
preach upon the whole of the Gospel of St. Matthew, ... drawing solely
from the fountains of Scripture, sounding its depths, comparing one
passage with another, and seeking for understanding by constant and
earnest prayer. It is to God’s glory, to the praise of His only Son, to
the real salvation of souls, and to their edification in the true faith,
that I shall consecrate my ministry.”(249) Though some of the
ecclesiastics disapproved his plan, and endeavored to dissuade him from
it, Zwingle remained steadfast. He declared that he was about to introduce
no new method, but the old method employed by the church in earlier and
purer times.
Already an interest had been awakened in the truths he taught; and the
people flocked in great numbers to listen to his preaching. Many who had
long since ceased to attend service were among his hearers. He began his
ministry by opening the Gospels, and reading and explaining to his hearers
the inspired narrative of the life, teachings, and death of Christ. Here,
as at Einsiedeln, he presented the word of God as the only infallible
authority, and the death of Christ as the only complete sacrifice. “It is
to Christ,” he said, “that I desire to lead you,—to Christ, the true
source of salvation.”(250) Around the preacher crowded the people of all
classes, from statesmen and scholars to the artisan and the peasant. With
deep interest they listened to his words. He not only proclaimed the offer
of a free salvation, but fearlessly rebuked the evils and corruptions of
the times. Many returned from the cathedral praising God. “This man,” they
said, “is a preacher of the truth. He will be our Moses, to lead us forth
from this Egyptian darkness.”(251)
But though at first his labors were received with great enthusiasm, after
a time opposition arose. The monks set themselves to hinder his work and
condemn his teachings. Many assailed him with gibes and sneers; others
resorted to insolence and threats. But Zwingle bore all with patience,
saying, “If we desire to gain over the wicked to Jesus Christ, we must
shut our eyes against many things.”(252)
About this time a new agency came in to advance the work of reform. One
Lucian was sent to Zurich with some of Luther’s writings, by a friend of
the reformed faith at Basel, who suggested that the sale of these books
might be a powerful means of scattering the light. “Ascertain,” he wrote
to Zwingle, “whether this man possesses sufficient prudence and skill; if
so, let him carry from city to city, from town to town, from village to
village, and even from house to house, among the Swiss, the works of
Luther, and especially his exposition of the Lord’s prayer written for the
laity. The more they are known, the more purchasers they will find.”(253)
Thus the light found entrance.
At the time when God is preparing to break the shackles of ignorance and
superstition, then it is that Satan works with greatest power to enshroud
men in darkness, and to bind their fetters still more firmly. As men were
rising up in different lands to present to the people forgiveness and
justification through the blood of Christ, Rome proceeded with renewed
energy to open her market throughout Christendom, offering pardon for
money.
Every sin had its price, and men were granted free license for crime, if
the treasury of the church was kept well filled. Thus the two movements
advanced,—one offering forgiveness of sin for money, the other forgiveness
through Christ,—Rome licensing sin, and making it her source of revenue;
the Reformers condemning sin, and pointing to Christ as the propitiation
and deliverer.
In Germany the sale of indulgences had been committed to the Dominican
friars, and was conducted by the infamous Tetzel. In Switzerland the
traffic was put into the hands of the Franciscans, under the control of
Samson, an Italian monk. Samson had already done good service to the
church, having secured immense sums from Germany and Switzerland to fill
the papal treasury. Now he traversed Switzerland, attracting great crowds,
despoiling the poor peasants of their scanty earnings, and exacting rich
gifts from the wealthy classes. But the influence of the reform already
made itself felt in curtailing, though it could not stop, the traffic.
Zwingle was still at Einsiedeln when Samson, soon after entering
Switzerland, arrived with his wares at a neighboring town. Being apprised
of his mission, the Reformer immediately set out to oppose him. The two
did not meet, but such was Zwingle’s success in exposing the friar’s
pretensions that he was obliged to leave for other quarters.
At Zurich, Zwingle preached zealously against the pardon-mongers; and when
Samson approached the place, he was met by a messenger from the council,
with an intimation that he was expected to pass on. He finally secured an
entrance by stratagem, but was sent away without the sale of a single
pardon, and he soon after left Switzerland.
A strong impetus was given to the reform by the appearance of the plague,
or “great death,” which swept over Switzerland in the year 1519. As men
were thus brought face to face with the destroyer, many were led to feel
how vain and worthless were the pardons which they had so lately
purchased; and they longed for a surer foundation for their faith. Zwingle
at Zurich was smitten down; he was brought so low that all hope of his
recovery was relinquished, and the report was widely circulated that he
was dead. In that trying hour his hope and courage were unshaken. He
looked in faith to the cross of Calvary, trusting in the all-sufficient
propitiation for sin. When he came back from the gates of death, it was to
preach the gospel with greater fervor than ever before; and his words
exerted an unwonted power. The people welcomed with joy their beloved
pastor, returned to them from the brink of the grave. They themselves had
come from attending upon the sick and the dying, and they felt, as never
before, the value of the gospel.