GLIMPSES OF A REFORMER’S MORALS
1. Luther’s Vocation. His Standard of Life
READING the lives of great men really sent by God who did great things
for the salvation of souls by their revelations and their labours,
whether narrated in the Bible or in the history of the Christian
Church, we find that, without exception, their standards were high,
that they sought to convert those with whom they came in contact
primarily by their own virtuous example, that their aim was to promote
the spread of their principles and doctrines by honest, truthful and
upright means, and that their actions bore the stamp, not of violence,
but of peaceableness and charity towards all brother Christians.
Luther’s friends have always protested against his being compared with
the Saints. Be their reason what it may, when it is a question of the
moral appreciation of the founder of a religious movement everyone
should be ready to admit, that such a founder must not present too
great a contrast with those great harbingers of the faith in olden
days whom he himself claims as his ideal, and in whose footsteps he
pretends to tread. Luther is anxious to see St. Paul once more restored
to his pinnacle; his doctrine he would fain re-establish. This being
so, we may surely draw his attention to the character of St. Paul as it
appears to us in his Epistles and in the Acts of the Apostles. St. Paul
brought into this dark world a new light, unknown heretofore, which had
been revealed to him together with his Divine calling. His vocation
he fostered by heroic virtues, and by a purity of life free from all
sensuality or frivolity, preaching with all the attraction conferred
by sincerity and honesty of purpose, in words and deeds full of fire,
indeed, yet at the same time breathing the most patient and considerate
charity.
Although we may not exact from Luther all the virtues of a St. Paul,
yet he cannot complain if his private life and his practice and theory
of morals be compared with the sublime mission to which he laid
claim. It is true, that, when confronted with such a critical test,
he was accustomed to meet it with the assertion that his Evangel was
unassailable whatever his life might be. This, however, must not deter
us from applying the test in question, calmly and cautiously, with
every precaution against infringing the truth of history and the claims
of a just and unbiassed judgment which are his right even at the hands
of those whose views are not his.
The following is merely an appreciation of some of the sides of his
character, not a general conspectus of his morals. Such a conspectus
will only become possible at the conclusion of our work. This we
mention because in what follows we shall be considering almost
exclusively Luther’s less favourable traits and ethical principles.
It is unavoidable that we should consider here in this connection his
own testimonies, and those of other witnesses, which militate against
his Divine mission. His better points, both as man and writer, will be
impartially pointed out elsewhere.
* * * * *
Luther himself admitted that Christ’s words: “By their fruits ye
shall know them,” established a real standard for the teachers of the
Gospel. He was familiar with the words of St. Bonaventure: “The sign
of a call to the office of preacher is the healing of the hearers from
the maladies of sin.”[488] He knew that the preacher’s virtue must be
imparted to others, and that the sublimity and purity of his doctrine
must be reflected in the amelioration of his followers.
A mere glance at Wittenberg at the time of the religious subversion
will suffice to show how little such conditions were realised.
Valentine Ickelsamer was referring to well-known facts when he
confronted Luther with the words of Christ quoted above. He added: “You
boast of holding the true doctrine on faith and charity and you shriek
that men merely condemn the imperfections of your life.” He is here
referring to Luther’s evasion. The latter had complained that people
under-valued him and were scandalised at his life and that of his
friends. In 1538, for instance, he was obliged, with the help of Jonas,
Cruciger and Melanchthon, to dissociate himself from a theologian,
Master George Karg, who had been advocating at Wittenberg doctrines
which differed from his own; of him he wrote: “He is an inexperienced
young man and, possibly, was scandalised at us personally in the first
instance, and then fell away in his doctrine; for all those who have
caused dissensions among us have begun by despising us personally.”[489]
* * * * *
Amongst the Catholic writers who pointed out to the Wittenberg
professor that his lack of a Divine call or higher mission was proved
by the visible absence of any special virtue, and by his behaviour as a
teacher, we may mention the Franciscan Johann Findling (Apobolymæus).
In the beginning of 1521 the latter published an “admonition” addressed
to Luther which relies chiefly on the reasons mentioned above.[490]
In this anonymous writing the Franciscan deals so considerately with
the monk, who was already then excommunicate, that recent Protestant
writers have actually contrasted him with the “Popish zealots.”[491]
Luther he terms his “beloved,” and is unwilling even to describe him
as a “heretic,”[492] following in this the example of many other monks
who showed the same scruple, probably on account of their own former
vacillation. Excuses of various kinds are not wanting in Findling’s
letter.
What is of interest in the present connection is the question the
author sets before the originator of the schism in the following
challenge: “If you are a prophet or seer sent by God to point out
the truth to men, let us perceive this, that we may believe in you,
approve your action and follow you. If what you preach and write is
of Divine revelation, then we are ready to honour you as a messenger
sent from heaven.... But it is written: ‘Believe not every spirit, but
try the spirits if they be of God’ (1 John iv. 1).... We are unable
to believe in you because so much strife, so many intrigues, insults,
bitter reproaches, vituperation and abuse proceed from you....
Quarrels, blasphemies and enmities are, as St. Ambrose says, foreign
to the ministers of God.”[493] Your acrimony, your vituperation, your
calumny and abuse are such that one is forced to ask: “Where is your
Christian spirit, or your Lutheran spirit, for, according to some,
Lutheran means the same as Christian?” Has not Christ commanded: “Love
your enemies, pray for those who persecute you? Certainly if prayer
consists in calumny, abuse, detraction, reviling and cursing, then you
pray excellently and effectually enough. Not one of all those I have
ever read curses and abuses others as you do.”[494]
The writer also points out how Luther’s followers imitate and even
outdo him; they were likewise turning his head by their praises; they
sang hymns in his honour, but hymns coming from such lips were a poor
tribute. Nor was the applause of the masses beyond suspicion, for it
merely showed that what he wrote was to the taste of the multitude;
for instance, when he blamed the authorities and cited them before his
tribunal. It was his rude handling of his ghostly superiors which had
brought the nobility and the knights to his side. Had he overwhelmed
them and the laity with such reproaches as he had heaped upon the
spiritual authorities, then “I know not whether you would still be in
the land of the living.”[495]
Apart from his want of charity and his censoriousness, other very
un-apostolic qualities of Luther’s were his pride and arrogance, his
utter disdain for obedience, his irascibility, his jealousy and his
want of seriousness in treating of the most important questions that
concerned humanity; the childish, nay, womanish, outbursts in which
notoriously he was wont to indulge could only serve to humble him in
his own eyes.
Luther must have felt keenly the Franciscan’s allusions to his
untruthfulness and evasiveness, more particularly in his conduct
towards the Pope, whereas Holy Scripture expressly declares that “God
has no need of a lie” (Job xiii. 7).
He concludes by saying, that if Luther “is a good and gentle disciple
of Christ,” then he will not disregard this exhortation to turn back
and recant.
Thus the Franciscan. It is to be feared, however, that Luther never
read the letter to its end. As he himself said, he had nothing but
scorn for anything that Catholic censors might say to him. “Attacks
from without only serve to render me proud and arrogant, and you may
see from my books how I despise my gainsayers; I look upon them as
simple fools.”[496] His state of mind even then was such as to make
him incapable of calmly weighing such reproofs. In the following
sentences the Franciscan above referred to has aptly described
Luther’s behaviour: Whoever allows himself to be overtaken by hatred
and carried away by fury, “blots out the light of reason within
himself and darkens his comprehension, so that he is no longer able to
understand or judge aright. He rushes blindly through the surrounding
fog and darkness, and knows not whither his steps will carry him. Many
people, dearest Martin, believe you to be in this state.”[497] “In
this condition of mental confusion you cannot fail to go astray; you
will credit yourself with what is far beyond you and quite outside
your power.”[498] In such a man eloquence was like a sword in the hand
of a madman, as was sufficiently apparent in the case of Luther’s
followers who attempted to emulate his zeal with the pen.[499]
Erasmus was another moderate critic. In the matter of Luther’s life,
as was to be expected from one who had once praised him in this
particular, as a rule he is inclined to be cautious, however unable
to refrain from severely censuring his unevangelical manner of
proceeding. The absence of the requisite standard of life seemed to
Erasmus sufficient to disprove Luther’s claim to the possession of the
Spirit of God and a higher mission. “You descend to calumny, abuse and
threats and yet you wish to be esteemed free from guile, pure, and led
by the Spirit of God, not by human passion.”[500] “Can the Evangel
then be preached in so unevangelical a manner?” “Have all the laws of
propriety been abrogated by the new-born Evangel, so that each one
is at liberty to make use of any method of attack either in word or
writing? Is this the liberty which you restore to us?”[501] He points
more particularly to Luther’s demagogism as alien to the Christian
spirit: “Your object is to raise revolt, and you are perfectly aware
that this has often been the result of your writings. Not thus did the
Apostles act. You drag our controversial questions before the tribunal
of the unlearned.”[502] “God Almighty! What a contrast to the spirit of
the Gospel!” exclaims Erasmus, referring to some of Luther’s abuse. “A
hundred books written against him would not have alienated me from him
so much as these insults.”[503]
Amongst the admonitions addressed to Luther at an early date by men
of weight, that of Zaccaria Ferreri, the Papal Legate in Poland,
written in 1520 and published in 1894, is particularly noteworthy.
From the self-love and arrogance which he found displayed in Luther’s
character he proves to him that his could not be the work of God:
“Do open your eyes and see into what an abyss of delusion you are
falling. You seem to fancy that you alone are in the sunlight and
that all the rest of the world is seated in the darkness of night....
You reproach Christianity with groping about in error for more than a
thousand years; in your madness you wish to appear wiser and better
than all other mortals put together, to all of whom you send forth
your challenge. Rest assured your opponents are not so dull-witted as
not to see through your artfulness and to perceive the inconsistency
and frivolity of your doctrines.” Ferreri also addressed the following
appeal to Luther: “If you are determined to cast yourself into the
abyss of death, at least take pity on the unfortunate people whom you
are daily infecting with your poison, whose souls you are destroying
and dragging along with you to perdition. The Almighty will one day
require of you their blood which you have drunk, and their happiness
which you have destroyed.”[504]
* * * * *
Such voices from the past help to make us alive to the importance of
the question which forms the subject of the present section. Luther’s
own ethical practice when defending the divinity of his mission, more
particularly his doctrine of the forgiveness of sins, against all
doubts and “temptations” which occurred to him, affords us, however,
the best and clearest insight into his moral standards. Here his moral
attitude appears in a most singular light.
We may preface what follows with some words of the Protestant historian
Gottlieb Jacob Planck (†1833): “When it is necessary to lay bare
Luther’s failings, an historian should blush to fancy that any excuse
is required for so doing.”[505]
“Temptations” to doubt were not uncommon in Luther’s case and in that
of his friends. He accordingly instructs his disciples to combat them
and to regain their lost equanimity by the same method which he himself
was in the habit of employing. Foremost amongst these instructions is
one addressed to his pupil Hieronymus Weller of Molsdorf, a native of
Freiberg, who, whilst at Wittenberg, had, under Luther’s influence,
relinquished the study of the law for that of theology. He was received
into Luther’s household as a boarder in 1527, and in 1535, after having
secured his Doctorate of Theology, he was still resident there. He was
one of the table-companions who took notes of Luther’s “Table-Talk.”
This young man was long and grievously tormented with anxiety of mind
and was unable to quiet, by means of the new Evangel, the scruples of
conscience which were driving him to despair.
In 1530, Luther, writing from the Castle of Coburg, gave him the
following counsel; we must bear in mind that it comes from one who
was himself then struggling with the most acute mental anxiety.[506]
“Sometimes it is necessary to drink more freely, to play and to jest
and even to commit some sin (‘_peccatum aliquod faciendum_’) out of
hatred and contempt for the devil, so that he may get no chance of
making a matter of conscience out of mere trifles; otherwise we shall
be vanquished if we are too anxious about not committing sin.... Oh
that I could paint sin in a fair light,[507] so as to mock at the devil
and make him see that I acknowledge no sin and am not conscious of
having committed any! I tell you, we must put all the Ten Commandments,
with which the devil tempts and plagues us so greatly, out of sight and
out of mind. If the devil upbraids us with our sins and declares us to
be deserving of death and hell, then we must say: ‘I confess that I
have merited death and hell,’ but what then? Are you for that reason
to be damned eternally? By no means. ‘I know One Who suffered and made
satisfaction for me, viz. Jesus Christ, the Son of God. Where He is,
there I also shall be.’”
Fell counsels such as these, to despise sin and to meet the temptation
by sinning, Luther had certainly not learnt from the spiritual writers
of the past. Such writers, more particularly those whom he professed
to have read at his monastery, viz. Bernard, Bonaventure and Gerson,
teach that sin must first be resisted, after which we may then seek
prayerfully for the cause of the trouble; for this is not always due to
the temptations of the devil, as Luther unquestioningly assumed in his
own case and, consequently, also in that of Weller. If conscience was
oppressed by sin, then, according to these spiritual writers, a remedy
different from that suited to doubts against the faith must be applied,
namely, penance, to be followed by acts of hope. If the trouble in
Weller’s case was one of doubts concerning faith, anyone but Luther
would have been careful to ascertain first of all whether these doubts
referred to the specifically Lutheran doctrine or to the other truths
of the Christian revelation. Luther, however, at the commencement
of the letter, simply declares: “You must rest assured that this
temptation comes from the devil, and that you are thus tortured because
you believe in Christ”—i.e. in the Lutheran doctrine and in the Christ
preached by that sect, as is clear from the reference immediately
following to the “foes of the Evangel,” who live in security and good
cheer.
The whole letter, though addressed to one standing on the brink of
despair, contains not a single word about prayer for God’s help, about
humbling oneself or striving after a change of heart. Beyond the
above-mentioned reference to Christ, Who covers over all our sins, and
to the need of contemning sin, we find merely the following natural,
indeed, of the earth earthly, remedies recommended, viz.: To seek
company, to indulge in jest and play, for instance, with Luther’s wife,
ever to keep a good temper and, finally, “to drink more deeply.” “If
the devil says, ‘Don’t drink,’ answer him at once: ‘Just because you
don’t wish it, I shall drink, and deeply too.’ We must always do the
opposite of what the devil bids. Why, think you, do I drink so much,
converse so freely and give myself up so frequently to the pleasures of
the table, if it be not in order to mock at the devil, and to plague
him when he tries to torment and mock at me?”
Finally he encourages the sorely tried man by telling him how Staupitz
had foretold that the temptations which he, Luther, endured in the
monastery would help to make a great man of him, and that he had
now, as a matter of fact, become a “great doctor.” “You, too,” he
continues, “will become a great man, and rest assured that such
[prophetic] words, particularly those that fall from the lips of
great and learned men, are not without their value as oracles and
predictions.”
It is not surprising that such counsels and the consolation of possible
future greatness did not improve the pitiable condition of the
unfortunate man, but that he long continued to suffer.
Of a like nature is the advice which Luther in the following year gave
another of his boarders and companions, Johann Schlaginhaufen, as a
remedy for the same malady, which indeed seems to have been endemic in
his immediate circle. The passages in question, from Schlaginhaufen’s
own notes, may be useful in further elucidating Luther’s instructions
to Weller.
According to what we are told Luther spoke as follows to
Schlaginhaufen on December 14, 1531, at a time when the latter had
been reduced to despair owing to his sins and to his lack of the
fiducial faith required by the new Evangel. “It is false that God
hates sinners; if the devil reminds us of the chastisement of Sodom
and other instances of God’s wrath, then let us confront him with
Christ, Who became man for us. Had God hated sinners He would not have
sent His own Son for us [here again not the slightest allusion to any
effort after an inward change of heart, but merely what follows]:
Those only does God hate who will not be justified, i.e. those who
will not be sinners (‘_qui non volunt esse peccatores_’).”[508]
In these admonitions to Schlaginhaufen the consolatory thought of the
merits of Christ, which alone can save us, occurs more frequently,
though in a very Lutheran guise: “Why torment yourself so much
about sin? Even had you as many sins on your conscience as Zwingli,
Carlstadt, Münzer and all the ungodly, faith in Christ would overcome
them all. Alas, faith is all that lacks us!” If the devil could
reproach you with unbelief and such-like faults, says Luther, then it
would be a different matter; but he does not worry us about the great
sins of the first table, but about other sins; “he annoys us with
mere trifles; if we would consent to worship the Pope, then we should
be his dear children.”[509] “We must cling to the Man Who is called
Christ, He will soon put right whatever we may have done amiss.”[510]
“So that at last I said,” Schlaginhaufen continues, “Then, Doctor, it
would be better that I should remain a rogue and a sinner. And the
Doctor replied: That Thou, O Lord, mayst be justified in Thy words,
and mayst overcome when Thou art judged” (Ps. 1. 6).[511]
With this pupil, as with Weller, Luther enters into an account of his
own temptations and the means he employed for ridding himself of them.
He himself, he says, in December, 1531, had often been made a target
for the shafts of Satan. “About ten years ago I first experienced this
despair and these temptations concerning the wrath of God. Afterwards
I had some peace so that I enjoyed good days and even took a wife, but
then the temptations returned again.”[512]
“I never had any temptation greater or more burdensome than that
which assailed me on account of my preaching, when I thought: It is
you alone who are bringing all this business about; if it is wrong,
then you alone are accountable for so many souls which go down to
hell. During such temptations I often went right down to hell, only
that God called me back and strengthened me, because it was His Word
and true doctrine. But it costs much before one can arrive at such
comfort.”[513]
Here also he speaks of his remedy of a free indulgence in food and
drink: “Were I to give in to my want of appetite, then I should [in
this frame of mind] for three days eat not a scrap; it is a double
fast to me to eat and drink without the least inclination. When the
world sees this it looks upon it as drunkenness, but God shall judge
whether it is drunkenness or fasting ... therefore keep stomach and
head alike filled.”[514]
According to another communication of Luther’s to this pupil, he was
in the habit of repelling the devil, when he troubled him too much
about his sins, by cynical speeches on the subject of the evacuations.
After one such statement the parish priest of Wittenberg, the
apostate Bugenhagen, interrupted him, and, in perfect agreement with
Luther, said, “I too would say to the devil: ‘My good devil, I have
committed a great sin, for Pope and bishop anointed my hands and I
have defiled them; that is also a great sin.’”[515] From such coarse
speeches Schlaginhaufen passes on to relate other things which the
veracious historian is not at liberty to suppress. The anxious pupil
who was seeking consolation continues: “The Doctor [Luther] said:
‘Nevertheless, the devil was unable to get over my arguments. Often
have I called my wife, et cetera, in order to allay the temptation and
to free myself from such idle thoughts.’”[516]
What Luther, or rather Schlaginhaufen, merely hints at, we find
explained in greater detail in the diary of Luther’s pupil Conrad
Cordatus: “Thoughts of terror and sadness have worried me more
than enemies and labours. In my attempts to drive them away I met
with little success. I also tried caressing my wife in order that
this distraction might free me from the suggestions of Satan; but
in temptations such as these we can find no comfort, so greatly is
our nature depraved. It is necessary, however, to make every kind
of effort to banish these thoughts by some stronger emotion.”[517]
One of the chief Latin versions of Luther’s Colloquies gives this
passage in his “Table-Talk” as follows: “How often have I taken with
my wife those liberties which nature permits merely in order to get
rid of Satan’s temptations. Yet all to no purpose, for he refused to
depart; for Satan, as the author of death, has depraved our nature to
such an extent that we will not admit any consolation. Hence I advise
everyone who is able to drive away these Satanic thoughts by diverting
his mind, to do so, for instance, by thinking of a pretty girl, of
money-making, or of drink, or, in fine, by means of some other vivid
emotion. The chief means, however, is to think of Jesus Christ, for He
comes to console and to make alive.”[518] The latter passage is to be
found, with unimportant alterations, in Rebenstock’s edition of the
Colloquies, though, perhaps out of consideration for Luther, it there
commences with the words: “For Satan”;[519] in the German “Table-Talk”
it is not found at all.[520]
“Let us fix our mind on other thoughts,” Luther had also said to
Schlaginhaufen, “on thoughts of dancing, or of a pretty girl, that
also is good. Gerson too wrote of this.”[521] As a matter of fact,
Gerson certainly wrote nothing about getting rid of temptations by
means of sensual images. On the contrary, in the passages in question
of his spiritual writings, he teaches something quite different and
insists, first and foremost, on the avoidance of sin. He proposes our
doing the exact opposite of the wicked or unworthy acts suggested by
the evil spirit. He, like all Catholic masters of the spiritual life,
indeed instructs those tempted to distract their minds, but by pious,
or at least, indifferent and harmless means.[522]
2. Some of Luther’s Practical Principles of Life
We find in Luther no dearth of strong expressions which, like his
advice to Weller and Schlaginhaufen, seem to discountenance fear of
sin, penance and any striving after virtue. It remains to determine
from their context the precise meaning which he attached to them.
_Luther on Sin_
As early as 1518 Luther, in a sermon at Erfurt, had given vent to the
words already quoted: “What does it matter whether we commit a fresh
sin so long as we do not despair but repeat: Thou, my God, still
livest, Christ, my Lord, has destroyed sin; then at once the sin is
gone.... The reason why the world is so out of joint and lies in such
error is that there has been no real preacher for so long.”[523]
“Hence we say,” so later on we read in his exposition of John xvii.,
“that those who are true Saints of Christ must be great sinners and
yet remain Saints.... Of themselves, and for all their works, they are
nothing but sinners and under condemnation, but by the holiness of
another, viz. of the Lord Christ, bestowed on them by faith, they are
made holy.”[524]
And further: “The Christian faith differs greatly from the faith and
religion of the Pope and the Turks, etc., for, by it, in spite of his
consciousness of sin, a man, amidst afflictions and the fear of death,
continues to hope that God for Christ’s sake will not impute to him his
sin.... But so great is this grace that a man is startled at it and
finds it hard to believe.”[525]—He himself and many others often found
it difficult, indeed terribly difficult, to believe. They were obliged
to “reassure themselves” by the Word of God. A few more quotations may
here be added.
“To be clean of heart not only means not to harbour any impure
thoughts, but that the conscience has been enlightened and assured by
the Word of God that the law does not defile; hence the Christian must
understand that it does not harm him whether he keeps it [the law] or
not; nay, he may even do what is otherwise forbidden, or leave undone
what is usually commanded; it is no sin in him, for he is incapable
of sinning because his heart is clean. On the other hand, an impure
heart defiles itself and sins in everything because it is choked with
law.”[526]
“God says in the law: Do this, leave that undone, this do I require of
thee. But the Evangel does not preach what we are to do or to leave
undone, it requires nothing of us. On the contrary. It does not say: Do
this or that, but only tells us to hold out our hands and take: Behold,
O man, what God has done for thee; He has caused His own Son to take
flesh for thee, has allowed Him to be done to death for thy sake, and
to save thee from sin, death and the devil; believe this and accept it
and thou shalt be saved.”[527]
Such statements, which must not be regarded as spoken merely on the
spur of the moment, rest on the idea that sin only troubles the man who
looks to the law; let us look rather to the Gospel, which is nothing
but grace, and simply cover over our sin by a firm faith in Christ,
then it will not harm us in any way. Yet it would be quite a mistake to
infer from this that Luther always regarded sin with indifference, or
that he even recommended it on principle; as a rule he did not go so
far as we just saw him do (p. 175 ff.) in his exhortations to persons
tempted; there, moreover, his invitation to commit sin, and his other
misplaced instructions, may possibly be explained by the excitement
of the hand-to-hand struggle with the devil, in which he fancied
himself to be engaged whenever he had to do with doubts concerning
his doctrines, or with souls showing signs of halting or of despair.
On the contrary, he teaches, as a rule, that sin is reprehensible; he
also instructs man to fight against concupiscence which leads up to
it. (Vol. i., p. 114 f.) He is fond of exhorting to amendment of life
and to avoid any scandal. Still, the barriers admitted by his doctrine
of Justification against this indifference with regard to sin were not
strong enough.[528]
As to Luther’s teaching on the manner in which sin was forgiven, we
shall merely state his ideas on this subject, without attempting to
bring them into harmony; the fact is that, in Luther’s case, we must
resign ourselves to a certain want of sequence.
He teaches: “Real faith is incompatible with any sin whatsoever;
whoever is a believer must resist sinful lusts by the power and
the impulse of the faith and Spirit.”[529] “Whoever has faith in
the forgiveness of sins does not obey sinful lusts, but fights
against them until he is rid of them.”[530] Where mortal sin has
been committed, there, according to him, real faith was manifestly
lacking; it had already been denied and was no longer active, or even
present. A revival of faith, together with the necessary qualities of
confidence, covers over all such sins, including the sin of unbelief.
On the other hand, sins committed where faith was present, though
for the moment too weak to offer resistance, were sins of frailty;
there faith at once regains the upper hand and thus forgiveness
or non-imputation of the sin is secured. The denial of Peter was,
according to Luther, a sin of frailty, because it was merely due to
“chance weakness and foolishness.” Nevertheless he declares that, like
the treason of Judas, it was deserving of death.[531]
Luther teaches further, affording us incidentally an insight into
the inadequacy of his doctrine from another point of view, that, in
the case of the heathen or of Christians who had no faith, not only
was every sin a mortal sin, but also all works, even good works,
were mortal sins; indeed, they would be so even in the faithful,
were it not for Christ, the Redeemer, Whom we must cling to with
confidence. Moreover, as we know, man’s evil inclinations, the motions
of concupiscence, the bad tendencies of the pious, were all grievous
sins in Luther’s eyes; original sin with its involuntary effects he
considers an enduring offence; only faith, which merits forgiveness
and overcomes the terrors of conscience by the saving knowledge of
Christ, can ensure man against it, and the other sins.
“Thus our salvation or rejection depends entirely on whether we
believe or do not believe in Christ.... Unbelief retains all sin,
so that it cannot be forgiven, just as faith cancels all sin; hence
outside of such faith everything is and remains sinful and worthy of
damnation, even the best of lives, and the best of works.... In faith
a Christian’s life and works are pleasing to God, outside of Christ
everything is lost and doomed to perdition; in Christ all is good and
blessed, so that even the sin which flesh and blood inherits from
Adam is neither a cause of harm nor of condemnation.” “This, however,
is not to be understood as a permit to sin and to commit evil; for
since faith brings forgiveness of sin ... it is impossible that he who
lives openly unrepentant and secure in his sins and lusts should be
a Christian and a believer.”[532] In conclusion he explains to what
category of hearers he is speaking: “To them [the faithful] this is
said, in order that sin may not harm nor condemn them; to the others,
who are without faith and reprobate, we do not preach.”[533] Amongst
the numerous other questions which here force themselves upon us, one
is, why Luther did not address his Evangel to those “without faith,”
and to the “reprobate,” according to the example of Christ.[534]
The fanatics, particularly Carlstadt, were not slow in attacking
Luther on account of his doctrine of faith alone. Carlstadt described
this “faith” of Luther’s as a “paper faith” and a “heartless faith.”
He perceived the “dangers to the interior life which might arise from
the stress laid on faith alone, viz. the enfeebling of the moral
powers and the growth of formalism.”[535] The modern Protestant
biographer of Carlstadt, from whom these words are taken, points out
that “moral laxity too often went hand-in-hand with Luther’s doctrine
of the forgiveness of sins.”[536] “Owing to an assiduous depreciation
of the moral code no criterion existed according to which the
direction of the impulses of the will could be determined, according
to Luther’s doctrine of Justification.”[537] The Lutheran teaching was
“admirably adapted to suit the life of the individual,” but the moral
laxity which followed in its train “could not be considered as merely
an exceptional phenomenon.”[538] There is no doubt that “much dross
came to the surface when ‘faith only’ was applied to the forgiveness
of sins.”[539]
A Protestant theologian, A. Hegler, one of those who demur to Luther’s
doctrines, mentioned above, owing to their moral consequences,
remarks: “It remains that the idea of justification without works was,
at the time of the Reformation, often found side by side with moral
laxity, and that, sometimes, the latter was actually the effect of
the former.” Seeking the reason why so talented a man as Sebastian
Franck should have seceded, after having been a Lutheran preacher till
1528, he remarks: “There is much to lead us to suppose that the sight
of the moral indifference and coarseness of the evangelicals was the
determining factor.”[540]
After having considered Luther’s principles with regard to the theory
of sin, we now proceed to give some of his utterances on penance.
_Luther’s Views on Penance_
Although he speaks of repentance as the first step towards salvation
in the case of the sinner, yet the idea of repentance, remorse or
contrition was ever rather foreign to him. He will not admit as valid
any repentance aroused by the demands and menaces of the law;[541] in
the case of man, devoid of free will, it must be a result of Divine
charity and grace; repentance without a love of justice is, he says,
at secret enmity with God and only makes the sin greater.[542] Yet he
also declares, not indeed as advocating penance as such, that it merely
acts through faith “previous to and independently of all works,” of
which, as we know, he was always suspicious; all that was needed was to
believe “in God’s Mercy,” and repentance was already there.[543]
He is nevertheless in favour of the preachers exhorting Christians
to repentance by diligent reference to the commandments, and to the
chastisements threatened by God, so as to instil into them a salutary
fear. The law, he goes on to say, in contradiction to the above, must
do its work, and by means of its terrors drive men to repentance
even though love should have no part in it. Here he is perfectly
conscious of the objection which might be raised, viz. that he had
made “repentance to proceed from, and to be the result of, justifying
faith.” To this he replies, that repentance itself forms part of the
“common faith,” because it is first necessary to believe that there is
a God Who commands and makes afraid; this circumstance justifies the
retention of penance, “for the sake of the common, unlearned folk.”[544]
The Catholic Church, on the other hand, formulates her doctrine of
penance and regeneration, for the most cultured as well as for the
“common and unlearned,” in terms simple and comprehensible, and in
perfect accord with both Scripture and theology: Adults “are prepared
for justification, when, moved and assisted by Divine grace ... they,
of their free will, turn to God, believing that those things are
true which have been Divinely revealed and promised; above all, that
the ungodly is justified by God’s grace and by the redemption which
is in Christ Jesus; recognising with a wholesome fear of the Divine
Justice their sinfulness, they turn to God’s mercy, and, being thus
established in hope, gain the confidence that God, for Christ’s sake,
will be gracious to them. Thus they begin to love God as the source
of all justice and to conceive a certain hatred (‘_odium aliquod_’)
and detestation for sin, i.e. to perform that penance which must take
place previous to baptism. Finally, they must have the intention of
receiving baptism, of commencing a new life and of observing the
commandments of God.”[545] “Those who, after having received the grace
of justification, fall into sin [’without loss of faith’],[546] with
God’s help may again be justified, regaining through the Sacrament of
Penance and Christ’s merits the grace they had lost.... Christ Jesus
instituted the Sacrament of Penance when He said: ‘Receive ye the Holy
Ghost: whose sins ye shall forgive, they are forgiven them; and whose
sins ye shall retain, they are retained.’ Hence we must teach that
the repentance of a sinner after falling into sin is very different
from that which accompanies baptism, and involves not merely a turning
away from, and a detestation for, sin, or a contrite and humble heart,
but also a Sacramental confession of the sin, or at least a purpose
of making such a confession in due season, and receiving the priestly
absolution; finally, it involves satisfaction by fasting, almsdeeds,
prayer and other pious exercises.”[547]
Such, according to the Catholic doctrine, is the process approved of
by Holy Scripture, the various phases of which rest alike on religion
and psychology, on the positive ordinances of God and on human nature.
Luther, however, thrust all this aside; his quest was for a simpler and
easier method, through faith alone, by which sin may be vanquished or
covered over.
His moral character, so far as it reveals itself in his teaching,
is here displayed in an unfavourable light, for he is never weary
of emphasising the ease with which sin can be covered over—and
that in language which must necessarily have had a bad effect on
discipline—when we might have expected to hear some earnest words on
penance. A few of his sayings will help to make yet clearer his earlier
statements.
“You see how rich the Christian is,” he says, “since, even should he
desire it, he is unable to forfeit his salvation, no matter how many
sins he may commit, unless indeed he refuses to believe (‘_nisi nolit
credere_’). No sin but unbelief can bring him to damnation; everything
else is at once swept away by this faith, so soon as he returns to it,
or recollects the Divine promise made to the baptised.”[548]
“Christ’s Evangel is indeed a mighty thing.... God’s Word brings
everything to pass speedily, bestows forgiveness of sins and the gift
of eternal life; and the cost of this is merely that you should hear
the Word, and after hearing it believe. If you believe, then you
possess it without any trouble, expense, delay or difficulty.”[549]
“No other sin exists in the world save unbelief. All others are mere
trifles, as when my little Hans or Lena misbehave themselves in the
corner, for we all take that as a big joke. In the same way faith
covers the stench of our filth before God.... All sins shall be
forgiven us if only we believe in the Son.”[550]
“As I have often said, the Kingdom of Christ is nothing else but
forgiveness and perpetual blotting out of sin, which is extinguished,
covered over, swept away and made clean while we are living here.”
“Christ makes things so easy for us who stand before God in fear and
trembling.”[551]
“_Summa summarum_: Our life is one long ‘_remissio peccatorum_,’ and
forgiveness of sin, otherwise it could not endure.”[552]
Here, indeed, we have one of the main props of Luther’s practical
theology. To this the originator of the doctrine sought to remain
faithful to the very end of his life, whereas certain other points
of his teaching he was not unwilling to revise. His ideas on sin and
repentance had sprung originally from his desire to relieve his own
conscience,[553] and, of this, they ever retained the mark. The words
and doctrine of a teacher are the best witnesses we have to his moral
character, and here the doctrine is one which affords but little
stimulus to virtue and Christian perfection, but rather the reverse.
In what follows we shall consider more closely the relation between
this doctrine and the effort after virtue, while at the same time
taking into account that passivity, nay, entire unfreedom of the will
for doing what is good, proclaimed by Luther.
_Luther on Efforts after Higher Virtue._
The effort to attain perfection and to become like to Christ, which is
the highest aim of the Christian, is scarcely promoted by making the
whole Gospel to consist merely in the happy enjoyment of forgiveness.
The hard work required for the building up of a truly virtuous life
on the rude soil of the world, necessarily involving sacrifice,
self-denial, humiliation and cheerful endurance of suffering, was more
likely to be looked at askance and carefully avoided by those who clung
to such a view.
On the pretext of opposing the “false humility of the holy-by-works,”
Luther attacks many practices which have always been dear to pious
souls striving after God. At the same time he unjustly implies that
the Catholics made holiness to consist merely in extraordinary works,
performed, moreover, by human strength alone, without the assistance of
grace. “This all comes from the same old craze,” he declares;[554] “as
soon as we hear of holiness we immediately think of great and excellent
works and stand gaping at the Saints in heaven as though they had got
there by their own merits. What _we_ say is that the Saints must be
good, downright sinners.” (See above, p. 180.) “The most holy state is
that of those who believe that Christ alone is our holiness, and that
by virtue of His holiness, as already stated, everything about us, our
life and actions, are holy, just as the person too is holy.”[555]
After this, who can contend that Luther sets before the world the
sublime and arduous ideal of a life of virtue such as has ever been
cherished by souls inflamed with the love of Christ? To rest content
with a standard so low is indeed to clip the wings of virtue. This
is in no way compensated for by Luther’s fervent exhortations to the
Christian, “to confess the Word, more particularly in temptation and
persecution,” because true and exalted virtue was present wherever
there was conflict on behalf of the Word [as preached by him], or by
his asseveration, that “where the Word is and brings forth fruit so
that men are willing to suffer what must be suffered for it, there
indeed we have living Saints.” Living Saints? Surely canonisation is
here granted all too easily. Nor does Luther make good the deficiencies
of his teaching, by depriving good works of any merit for heaven, or
by requiring that they should be performed purely out of love of God,
without the least thought of reward. He thereby robs the practice of
good works of a powerful stimulus, as much in conformity with the Will
of God as with human nature. He is too ready here to assume that the
faithful are angels, raised above all incentive arising from the hope
of reward, though, elsewhere, he looks upon men only too much as of the
earth earthly.
At any rate he teaches that good works spring spontaneously from the
faith by which man is justified, and that the outcome is a life of
grace in which the faithful has every incentive to the performance of
his duty and to works of charity towards his neighbour. He also knows
how to depict such spontaneous, practical efforts on the part of the
righteous in attractive colours and with great feeling. Passages of
striking beauty have already been quoted above from his writings.
Too often, as he himself complains, such good works are conspicuous
by their absence among the followers of the evangelical faith; he
is disappointed to see that the new teaching on faith serves only
to engender lazy hearts. Yet this was but natural; nature cannot be
overcome even in the man who is justified without an effort on his
part; without exertion, self-sacrifice, self-conquest and prayer no
one can make any progress and become better pleasing to God; not
holiness-by-works, but the sanctifying of our works, is the point
to be aimed at, and, for this purpose, Holy Scripture recommends no
mere presumptuous, fiducial faith as the starting-point, but rather
a pious fear of God, combined with a holy life; no mere reliance on
a misapprehension of the freedom of the children of God, but rather
severe self-discipline, watchfulness and mortification of the whole
man, who, freely and of his own accord, must make himself the image
of his crucified Saviour. Those of Luther’s followers who, to their
honour, succeeded in so doing, did so, and were cheered and comforted,
not by following their leader’s teaching, but by the grace of God which
assists every man.
We must, however, refer to another point of importance already once
discussed. Why speak at all of good works and virtue, when Luther’s
doctrine of the passivity and unfreedom of the will denies the
existence of all liberty as regards either virtue or sin? (See vol.
ii., p. 223 ff.)
Luther’s doctrine of Justifying Faith is closely bound up with his
theories on the absence of free will, man’s inability to what do is
good, and the total depravity of human nature resulting from original
sin. In his “_De servo arbitrio_” against Erasmus, Luther deliberately
makes the absence of free will the basis of his view of life.
Deprived of any power of choice or self-determination, man is at the
mercy of external agents, diabolical or Divine, to such an extent
that he is unable to will except what they will. Whoever has and
keeps the Spirit of God and the faith cannot do otherwise than fulfil
the Will of God; but whoever is under the domination of the devil
is his spiritual captive. To sum up what was said previously: man
retains at most the right to dispose of things inferior to him, not,
however, any actual, moral freedom of choice, still less any liberty
for doing what is good such as would exclude all interior compulsion.
He is created for eternal death or for everlasting life; his destiny
he cannot escape; his lot is already pre-ordained. Luther’s doctrine
brings him into line, even as regards the “harshest consequences of
the predestinarian dogma, with Zwingli, Calvin, and Melanchthon in
his earliest evangelical Theology.”[556] According to one of the most
esteemed of Lutheran theologians, “what finds full and comprehensive
expression in the work ‘_De servo arbitrio_’ is simply the conviction
which had inspired Luther throughout his struggle for his pet doctrine
of salvation, viz. the doctrine of the pure grace of God as against the
prevailing doctrine of free will and man’s own works.”[557] According
to this theory, in spite of the lack of free will, God requires of man
that he should keep the moral law, and, to encourage him, sets up a
system of rewards and punishments. Man is constrained to this as it
were in mockery, that, as Luther says, God may make him to realise his
utter powerlessness.[558] God indeed deplores the spiritual ruin of
His people—this much the author is willing to allow to his opponent
Erasmus—but, the God Who does so is the God of revelation, not the
Hidden God. “The God Who conceals Himself beneath His Majesty grieves
not at man’s undoing, He takes no step to remedy it, but works all
things, both life and death.” God, “by that unsearchable knowledge of
His, wills the death of the sinner.”[559]
“Even though Judas acted of his own will and without compulsion, still
his willing was the work of God, Who moved him by His Omnipotence as
He moves all things.”[560] In the same way, according to Luther, the
hardening of Pharao’s heart was in the fullest sense God’s work.[561]
Adam’s sin likewise is to be traced back to the Will of God.[562] We
must not ask, however, how all this can be reconciled with the goodness
and justice of God. We must not expect God to act according to human
law.[563]
It was necessary to recall the above in order to show how such a
doctrine robs the moral law of every inward relation to its last end,
and degrades it till it becomes a mere outward, arbitrary barrier.
Luther may well thank his want of logic that this system failed to be
carried to its extremest consequences; the ways of the world are not
those of the logician.
Who but God can be held responsible in the last instance for the world
being, as Luther complains, the “dwelling-place” of the devil, and his
very kingdom? According to him the devil is its “Prince and God”;[564]
every place is packed with devils.[565] Indeed, “the whole world is
Satanic and to a certain extent identified with Satan.”[566] “In such
a kingdom all the children of Adam are subject to their lord and king,
i.e. the devil.”[567] Such descriptions given by Luther are often so
vivid that one might fancy the devil was making war upon God almost
like some independent power. Luther, however, admits that the devil has
“only a semblance of the Godhead, and that God has reserved to Himself
the true Godhead.”[568] Ethically the consequence of such a view of the
world is a pessimism calculated to lame both the powers and the desires
of anyone striving after higher aims.
Luther’s pessimism goes so far, that too often he is ready to believe
that, unlike the devil, Christ loves “to show Himself weak” in man. He
writes, for instance, that Satan desired to drag him in his toils down
into the abyss, but that the “weak Christ” was ever victorious, or at
least “fighting bravely.”[569] That it was possible for Christ to be
overcome he would not have allowed, yet, surely, an excuse might have
been sought for man’s failings in Christ’s own “weakness,” particularly
if man is really devoid of free will for doing what is good.
Luther was always fond of imputing weaknesses and sins to the Saints.
Their works he regarded as detracting from the Redemption and the Grace
of Christ, which can be appropriated only by faith. Certain virtues
manifested by the Saints and their heroic sacrifices Luther denounced
as illusions, as morally impossible and as mere idolatry.
“The Apostles themselves were sinners, yea, regular scoundrels....
I believe that the prophets also frequently sinned grievously, for
they were men like us.”[570] He quotes examples from the history of
the Apostles previous to the descent of the Holy Ghost. Elsewhere he
alludes to the failings they betrayed even in later life. “To hear”
that the Apostles, even after they had received the Holy Ghost, were
“sometimes weak in the faith,” is, he says, “very consoling to me
and to all Christians.” Peter “not only erred” in his treatment of
the Gentile Christians (Gal. ii. 11 ff.), “but sinned grossly and
grievously.” The separation of Paul and Barnabas (Acts xv. 39) was
very blameworthy. “Such instances,” he says, “are placed before us for
our comfort; for it is very consoling to hear that such great Saints
have also sinned.” “Samson, David and many other fine and mighty
characters, filled as they were with the Holy Ghost, fell into great
sins,” which is a “splendid consolation to faint-hearted and troubled
consciences.” Paul himself did not believe as firmly as he spoke; he
was, in point of fact, better able to speak and write than to believe.
“It would scarcely be right for us to do all that God has commanded,
for then what need would there be for the forgiveness of sins?”[571]
“Unless God had told us how foolishly the Saints themselves acted, we
should not have been able to arrive at the knowledge of His Kingdom,
which is nothing else but the forgiveness of sins.”[572] Here He is
referring to the stumbling and falls of the Patriarchs; he adds:
“What wonder that we stumble? And yet this is no cloak or excuse for
committing sin.” Nevertheless, he speaks of Abraham, whom he credits
with having fallen into idolatry and sin, as though holiness of life
were of no great importance: “Believe as he did and you are just as
holy as he.”[573] “We must interpret all these stories and examples as
told of men like ourselves; it is a delusion to make such a fuss about
the Saints. We ought to say: If they were holy, why, so are we; if we
are sinners, why, so were they; for we are all born of the same flesh
and blood and God created us as much as He did them; one man is as
good as another, and the only difference between us is faith. If you
have faith and the Word of God, you are just as great; you need not
trouble yourself about being of less importance than he, unless your
faith is less strong.”[574]
By his “_articulus remissionis_,” the constantly reiterated Evangel of
the forgiveness of sins by faith, Luther certainly succeeded in putting
down the mighty from their seats, but whether he inspired the lowly to
qualify for their possession is quite another question.
On the unsafe ground of the assurance of salvation by faith alone
even the fanatics were unwilling to stand; their preference was for a
certain interior satisfaction to be secured by means of works. Hence
they and their teaching—to tell the truth a very unsatisfactory
one—became a target for Luther’s sarcasm. By a pretence of strict
morals they would fain give the lie to the words of the Our Father,
“Forgive us our trespasses”; “but we are determined not to make
the Our Father untrue, nor to reject this article (the ‘_remissio
peccatorum_’), but to retain it as our most precious treasure, in
which lies our safety and salvation.”[575] An over-zealous pursuit of
sanctity and the works of the Spirit might end by detracting from a
trusting reliance upon Christ. In Catholic times, for instance, the
two things, works and faith, had, so he complains, been “hopelessly
mixed.” “This, from the beginning until this very day, has been a
stumbling-block and hindrance to the new doctrine of faith. If we
preach works, then an end is made of faith; hence, if we teach faith,
works must go to the wall.”[576]
We must repeat, that, by this, Luther did not mean to exclude works;
on the contrary, he frequently counsels their performance. He left
behind him many instructions concerning the practice of a devout
life, of which we shall have to speak more fully later. On the other
hand, however, we can understand how, on one occasion, he refused
to draw up a Christian Rule of Life, though requested to do so by
his friend Bugenhagen, arguing that such a thing was superfluous.
We can well understand his difficulty, for how could he compile a
rule for the promotion of practical virtue when he was at the same
time indefatigable in condemning the monkish practices of prayer and
meditation, pious observances and penitential exercises, as mere
formalities and outgrowths of the theory of holiness-by-works? It was
quite in keeping with his leading idea, and his hatred of works, that
he should stigmatise the whole outward structure of the Christian life
known hitherto as a mere “service of imposture.”
“Christ has become to all of us a cloak for our shame.”[577]
“Our life and all our doings must not have the honour and glory of
making us children of God and obtaining for us forgiveness of sins and
everlasting life. What is necessary is that you should hear Christ
saying to you: ‘Good morning, dear brother, in Me behold your sin and
death vanquished.’ The law has already been fulfilled, viz. by Christ,
so that it is not necessary to fulfil it, but only to hang it by faith
around Him who fulfils it, and to become like Him.”[578]
“This is the Evangel that brings help and salvation to the conscience
in despair.... The law with its demands had disheartened, nay, almost
slain it, but now comes this sweet and joyful message.”[579]
“Be a sinner and sin boldly, but believe more boldly still.”[580]
_Luther’s “Pecca fortiter.”_
In what has gone before, that we might the better see how Luther’s
standard of life compared with his claim to a higher calling, we have
reviewed in succession his advice and conduct with regard to one of the
principal moral questions of the Christian life, viz. how one is to
behave when tempted to despondency and to despair of one’s salvation;
further, his attitude—theoretical and practical—towards sin, penance
and the higher tasks and exercises of Christian virtue. On each several
point the ethical defects of his system came to light, in spite of all
his efforts to conceal them by appealing to the true freedom of the
Christian, to the difference between the law and the Gospel, or to the
power of faith in the merits of Christ.
On glancing back at what has been said, we can readily understand why
those Catholic contemporaries, who took up the pen against Luther and
his followers, directed their attacks by preference on these points of
practical morality.
Johann Fabri (i.e. Schmidt) of Heilbronn, who filled the office of
preacher at Augsburg Cathedral until he was forced to vacate the pulpit
owing to the prohibition issued by the Magistrates against Catholic
preaching in 1534, wrote at a later date, in 1553, in his work “The
Right Way,” of Luther and those preachers who shared his point of
view: “The sweet, sugary preachers who encourage the people in their
wickedness say: The Lord has suffered for us, good works are unclean
and sinful, a good, pious and honest life with fasting, etc., is mere
Popery and hypocrisy, the Lord has merited heaven for us and our
goodness is all worthless. These and such-like are the sweet, sugary
words they preach, crying: Peace, Peace! Heaven has been thrown open,
only believe and you are already justified and heirs of heaven. Thus
wickedness gets the upper hand, and those things which draw down upon
us the wrath of God and rob us of eternal life are regarded as no sin
at all. But the end shall prove whether the doctrine is of God, as the
fruit shows whether the tree is good. What terror and distress has been
caused in Germany by those who boast of the new Gospel it is easier
to bewail than to describe. Ungodliness, horrible sins and vices hold
the field; greater and more terrible evil, fear and distress have never
before been heard of, let alone seen in Germany.”[581]
Matthias Sittardus, from the little town of Sittard in the Duchy of
Jülich, a zealous and energetic worker at Aachen, wrote as follows
of Luther’s exhortations quoted above: “The result is that men say,
What does sin matter? Christ took it away on the cross; the evil that
I do—for I must sin and cannot avoid it—He is ready to bear; He
will answer for it and refrain from imputing it to me; I have only to
believe and off it goes like a flash. Good works have actually become
a reproach and are exposed to contempt and abuse.”[582]—Elsewhere he
laments, that “there is much glorying in and boasting of faith,” but of
“good works and actions little” is seen.[583]
Alluding to man’s unfreedom for doing what is good, as advocated by
Luther, Johann Mensing, a scholarly and busy popular writer, says:
“They [the preachers] call God a sinner and maintain that God does all
our sins in us. And when they have sinned most grievously they argue
that such was God’s Will, and that they could do nothing but by God’s
Will. They look upon the treachery of Judas, the adultery of David and
Peter’s denial as being simply the work of God, just as much as the
best of good deeds.”[584]
The words quoted above: “Be a sinner and sin boldly, but believe more
boldly still,” are Luther’s own.
The saying, which must not be taken apart from the context, was
employed by Luther in a letter to Melanchthon, on August 1, 1521.[585]
The writer, who was then at the Wartburg, was engaged in a “heated
struggle”[586] on the question of the Church, and on religious vows,
for the setting aside of which he was seeking a ground. At the
Wartburg he was, on his own confession, a prey to “temptations and
sins,”[587] though in this he only saw the proof that his Evangel
would triumph over the devil. The letter is the product of a state
of mind, restless, gloomy and exalted, and culminates in a prophetic
utterance concerning God’s approaching visitation of Germany on
account of its persecution of the Evangel.
The passage which at present interests us, taken together with the
context, runs thus:
“If you are a preacher of grace, then preach a real, not a fictitious
grace; if your grace is real, then let your sin also be real and
not fictitious. God does not save those who merely fancy themselves
sinners. Be a sinner and sin boldly, but believe more boldly still
(‘_esto peccator et pecca fortiter, sed fortius fide_’); and rejoice
in Christ, Who is the conqueror of sin, death and the world; we must
sin as long as we are what we are. This life is not the abode of
justice, but we look for a new heaven and a new earth wherein dwelleth
righteousness, as Peter says. It suffices that by the riches of the
glory of God we have come to know the Lamb, Who taketh away the sin of
the world; sin shall not drag us away from Him, even should we commit
fornication or murder thousands and thousands of times a day. Do you
think that the price and the ransom paid for our sins by this sublime
Lamb is so insignificant? Pray boldly, for you are in truth a very
bold sinner.”
This is language of the most extravagant paradox. What it really
means is very objectionable. Melanchthon is to pray very fervently
with the hope of obtaining the Divine assistance against sin, but at
the same time he is to sin boldly. This language of the Wartburg is
not unlike that in which Luther wrote, from the Castle of Coburg,
to his pupil, Hieronymus Weller, when the latter was tempted to
despair, to encourage him against the fear of sin (above, p. 175 f.);
that letter too was written in anguish of spirit and in a state of
excitement similar to what he had experienced in the Wartburg. We
might, it is true, admit that, in these words Luther gave the rein
to his well-known inclination to put things in the strongest light,
a tendency to be noticed in some of his other statements quoted
above. On the other hand, however, the close connection between the
compromising words and his whole system of sin and grace, can scarcely
be denied; we have here something more than a figure of rhetoric.
Luther’s endeavour was to reassure, once and for all, Melanchthon,
who was so prone to anxiety. The latter shrank from many of the
consequences of Luther’s doctrines, and at that time was possibly also
a prey to apprehension concerning the forgiveness of his own sins.
Hence the writer of the letter seeks to convince him that the strength
of the fiducial faith preached by himself, Luther, was so great, that
no sense of sin need trouble a man. To have “real, not fictitious,
sin” to him, means as much as: Be bold enough to look upon yourself as
a great sinner; “Be a sinner,” means: Do not be afraid of appearing
to be a sinner in your own sight; Melanchthon is to be a bold sinner
in his own eyes in order that he may be the more ready to ascribe all
that is good to the grace which works all. Thus far there is nothing
which goes beyond Luther’s teaching elsewhere.
The passage is, however, more than a mere paradoxical way of
expressing the doctrine dear to him.
Luther, here and throughout the letter, does not say what he ought
necessarily to have said to one weighed down by the consciousness of
sin; of remorse and compunction we hear nothing whatever, nor does
he give due weight and importance to the consciousness of guilt; he
misrepresents grace, making it appear as a mere outward, magical
charm, by which—according to an expression which cannot but offend
every religious mind—a man is justified even though he be a murderer
and a libertine a thousand times over. Luther’s own words here are
perhaps the best refutation of the Lutheran doctrine of Justification,
for he speaks of sin, even of the worst, in a way that well lays bare
the weaknesses of the system of fiducial faith.
It is unfortunate that Luther should have impressed such a stigma upon
his principal doctrine, both in his earliest statements of it, for
instance, in his letter to George Spenlein in 1516, and, again, in
one of his last epistles to a friend, also tormented by scruples of
conscience, viz. George Spalatin.[588]
In the above-mentioned letter to Melanchthon, in which Luther expresses
his contempt for sin by the words “_Pecca fortiter_,” he is not only
encouraging his friend with regard to possible sins of the past, but
is also thinking of temptations in the future. His advice is: Sin
boldly and fearlessly—whereas what one would have expected would have
been: Should you fall, don’t despair. The underlying idea is: No sin is
so detestable as to affright the believer, which is further explained
by the wanton phrase: “even should we commit fornication or murder
thousands and thousands of times a day.”
However much stress we may be disposed to lay on Luther’s warnings
against sin, and whatever allowance we may make for his rhetoric, still
the “_Pecca fortiter_” stands out as the result of his revolt against
the traditional view of sin and grace, with which his own doctrine of
Justification refused to be reconciled. These inauspicious words are
the culmination of Luther’s practical ideas on religion, borne witness
to by so many of his statements, which, at the cost of morality, give
the reins to human freedom and to disorder. Such was the state of mind
induced in him by the spirits of the Wartburg, such the enthusiasm
which followed his “spiritual baptism” on his “Patmos,” that isle of
sublime revelations.
Such is the defiance involved in the famous saying that an impartial
critic, Johann Adam Möhler, in his “Symbolism” says: “Although too much
stress must not be laid on the passage, seeing how overwrought and
excited the author was, yet it is characteristic enough and important
from the point of view of the history of dogma.”[589] G. Barge, in his
Life of Carlstadt, says, that Luther in his letter to Melanchthon had
reduced “his doctrine of Justification by faith alone to the baldest
possible formula.”[590] “If Catholic research continues to make this
[the ‘_Pecca fortiter_’] its point of attack, we must honestly admit
that there is reason in its choice.”
The last words are from Walter Köhler, now at the University of
Zürich, a Protestant theologian and historian, who has severely
criticised all Luther’s opinions on sin and grace.[591]
One of the weak points of Luther’s theology lies, according
to Köhler,[592] in the “clumsiness of his doctrine of sin and
salvation.” “How, in view of the total corruption of man” (through
original sin, absence of free will and loss of all power), can
redemption be possible at all unless by some mechanical and
supernatural means? Luther says: “By faith alone.” But his “faith is
something miraculous, in which psychology has no part whatever; the
corruption is mechanical and so is the act of grace which removes
it.” In Luther’s doctrine of sin, as Köhler remarks, the will, the
instrument by which the process of redemption should be effected,
becomes a steed “ridden either by God or by the devil. If the Almighty
is the horseman, He throws Satan out of the saddle, and _vice
versa_; the steed, however, remains entirely helpless and unable to
rid himself of his rider. In such a system Christ, the Redeemer,
must appear as a sort of ‘_deus ex machina_,’ who at one blow sets
everything right.” It would not be so bad, were at least “the Almighty
to overthrow Satan. But He remains ever seated in heaven, i.e. Luther
never forgets to impress on man again and again that he cannot get out
of sin: ‘The Saints remain always sinners at heart.’”
Although, proceeds Köhler, better thoughts, yea, even inspiring ones,
are to be found in Luther’s writings, yet the peculiar doctrines just
spoken of were certainly his own, at utter variance though they be
with our way of looking at the process of individual salvation, viz.
from the psychological point of view, and of emphasising the personal
will to be saved. “In spite of Luther’s plain and truly evangelical
intention of attributing to God alone all the honour of the work of
salvation,” he was never able “clearly to comprehend the personal,
ethico-religious value of faith”; “on the contrary, he makes man to
be shifted hither and thither, by the hand of God, like a mere pawn,
and in a fashion entirely fatalistic”; “when Christ enters, then,
according to him, all is well; I am no longer a sinner, I am set
free” (“_iam ego peccatum non habeo et sum liber_”)[593];—“but where
does the ethical impulse come in?” Seeing that sin is merely covered
over, and, as a matter of fact, still remains, man must, according
to Luther, “set to work to conquer it without, however, ever being
entirely successful in this task, or rather he must strengthen his
assurance of salvation, viz. his faith. Such is Luther’s ethics.” The
critic rightly points out, that this “system of ethics is essentially
negative,” viz. merely directs man how “not to fall” from the
“pedestal” on which he is set up together with Christ. Man, by faith,
is raised so high, that, as Luther says, “nothing can prejudice his
salvation”;[594] “Christian freedom means ... that we stand in no need
of any works in order to attain to piety and salvation.”[595]
3. Luther’s Admissions Concerning His own Practice of Virtue
St. Paul, the far-seeing Apostle of the Gentiles, says of the ethical
effects of the Gospel and of faith: “Those who are Christ’s have
crucified their flesh with the lusts thereof. If we live in the Spirit
let us also walk in the Spirit.” He instances as the fruits of the
Spirit: “Patience, longanimity, goodness, benignity, mildness, faith,
modesty, continency, chastity” (Gal. v. 22 ff.). Amongst the qualities
which must adorn a teacher and guide of the faithful he instances
to Timothy the following: “It behoveth him to be blameless, sober,
prudent, of good behaviour, chaste, no striker, not quarrelsome; he
must have a good testimony of them that are without, holding the
mystery of the faith in a pure conscience” (1 Tim. iii. 2 ff.). Finally
he sums up all in the exhortation: “Be thou an example to the faithful
in word, in conversation, in charity, in faith, in chastity” (_ibid._,
iv. 12).
It seems not unjust to expect of Luther that his standard of life
should be all the higher, since, in opposition to all the teachers of
his day and of bygone ages, and whilst professing to preach nought
but the doctrine of Christ, he had set up a new system, not merely of
faith, but also of morals. At the very least the power of his Evangel
should have manifested itself in his own person in an exceptional
manner.
How far was this the case? What was the opinion of his contemporaries
and what was his own?
Catholics were naturally ever disposed to judge Luther’s conduct from a
standpoint different from that of Luther’s own followers. A Catholic,
devoted to his Church, regarded as his greatest blemish the conceit of
the heresiarch and devastator of the fold; to him it seemed intolerable
that a disobedient and rebellious son of the Church should display
such pride as to set himself above her and the belief of antiquity and
should attack her so hatefully. As for his morality, his sacrilegious
marriage with a virgin dedicated to God, his incessant attacks upon
celibacy and religious vows, and his seducing of countless souls to
break their most sacred promises, were naturally sufficient to debase
him in the eyes of most Catholics.
There were, however, certain questions which both Catholics and
Lutherans could ask and answer impartially: Did Luther possess in any
eminent degree the fiducial faith which he represented as so essential?
Did this faith produce in him those fruits he extols as its spontaneous
result, above all a glad heart at peace with God and man? Further: How
far did he himself come up even to that comparatively low standard to
which, theoretically, he reduced Christian perfection?
If we seek from Luther’s own lips an estimate of his virtues, we shall
hear from him many frank statements on the subject.
The first place belongs to what he says of his faith and personal
assurance of salvation.
Of faith, he wrote to Melanchthon, who was tormented with doubts
and uncertainty: “To you and to us all may God give an increase of
faith.... If we have no faith in us, why not at least comfort ourselves
with the faith that is in others? For there must needs be others who
believe instead of us, otherwise there would be no Church left in the
world, and Christ would have ceased to be with us till the end of time.
If He is not with us, where then is He in the world?”[596]
He complains so frequently of the weakness of his own faith that we
are vividly reminded how greatly he himself stood in need of the
“consolation” of dwelling on the faith that was in others. He never,
it is true, attributes to himself actual unbelief, or a wilful abandon
of trust in the promises of Christ, yet he does speak in strangely
forcible terms—and with no mere assumed humility or modesty—of the
weakness of this faith and of the inconstancy of his trust.
Of the devil, who unsettles him, he says: “Often I am shaken, but
not always.”[597] To the devil it was given to play the part of
torturer. “I prefer the tormentor of the body to the torturer of the
soul.”[598]—“Alas, the Apostles believed, of this there can be no
doubt; I can’t believe, and yet I preach faith to others. I know that
it is true, yet believe it I cannot.”[599] “I know Jonas, and if he
[like Christ] were to ascend to heaven and disappear out of our sight,
what should I then think? And when Peter said: ‘In the name of Jesus,
arise’ [Acts iii. 6], what a marvel that was! I don’t understand it
and I can’t believe it; and yet all the Apostles believed.”[600]
“I have been preaching for these twenty years, and read and written,
so that I ought to see my way ... and yet I cannot grasp the fact,
that I must rely on grace alone; and still, otherwise it cannot
be, for the mercy-seat alone must count and remain since God has
established it; short of this no man can reach God. Hence it is no
wonder that others find it so hard to accept faith in its purity,
more particularly when these devil-preachers [the Papists] add to the
difficulty by such texts as: ‘Do this and thou shalt live,’ item ‘Wilt
thou enter into life, keep the commandments’ (Luke x. 28; Matthew xix.
17).”[601]
He is unable to find within him that faith which, according to his
system, ought to exist, and, in many passages, he even insists on
its difficulty in a very curious manner. “Ah, dear child, if only
one could believe firmly,” he said to his little daughter, who “was
speaking of Christ with joyful confidence”; and, in answer to the
question, “whether then he did not believe,” he replied by praising
the innocence and strong faith of children, whose example Christ bids
us follow.[602]
In the notes among which these words are preserved there follows a
collection of similar statements belonging to various periods: “This
argument, ‘The just shall live in his faith’ (Hab. ii. 4), the devil
is unable to explain away. But the point is, who is able to lay hold
on it?”[603]—“I, alas, cannot believe as firmly as I can preach,
speak and write, and as others fancy I am able to believe.”[604]—When
the Apostle of the Gentiles speaks of dying daily (1 Cor. xv. 31),
this means, so Luther thinks, that he had doubts about his own
teaching. In the same way Christ withdraws Himself from him, Luther,
“so that at times I say: Truly I know not where I stand, or whether I
am preaching aright or not.”[605] “I used to believe all that the Pope
and the monks said, but now I am unable to believe what Christ says,
Who cannot lie. This is an annoying business, but we shall keep it for
that [the Last] Day.”[606]
“Conscience’s greatest consolation,” he also says, according to the
same notes, “is simply the Lord Christ,” and he proceeds to describe
in detail this consolation in language of much power, agreeably with
his doctrine of Justification. He, however, concludes: “But I cannot
grasp this consoling doctrine, I can neither learn it nor bear it in
mind.”[607]
“I am very wretched owing to the weakness of my faith; hardly can I
find any comfort in the death and resurrection of Christ, or in the
article of the forgiveness of sins.... I cannot succeed in laying hold
on the essential treasure, viz. the free forgiveness of sins.”[608]
“It is a difficult matter to spring straight from my sins to
the righteousness of Christ, and to be as certain that Christ’s
righteousness is mine as I am that my own body is mine.... I am
astonished that I cannot learn this doctrine.”[609]
In a passage already quoted Luther rightly described the task he
assigned to grace and faith as something “which affrights a man,” for
which reason it is “hard for him to believe”; he himself had often, so
to speak, to fight his way out of hell, “but it costs much before one
obtains consolation.”
Such statements we can well understand if we put ourselves in his
place. The effects he ascribed to fiducial faith were so difficult
of attainment and so opposed to man’s natural disposition, that
never-ending uncertainty was the result, both in his own case
and in that of many others. Moreover, he, or rather his peculiar
interpretation of Holy Scripture, was the only guarantee of his
doctrine, whereas the Catholic Church took her stand upon the broad
and firm basis of a settled, traditional interpretation, and traced
back her teaching to an authority instituted by God and equipped
with infallibility. In his “temptations of faith,” Luther clung to
the most varied arguments, dwelling at one time on the fact of his
election, at another on the depravity of his opponents, now on the
malice of the devil sent to oppose him, now on the supposed advantages
of his doctrine, as for instance, that it gave all the honour to God
alone and made an end of everything human, even of free will: “Should
Satan take advantage of this and ally himself with the flesh and with
reason, then conscience becomes affrighted and despairs, unless you
resolutely enter into yourself and say: Even should Cyprian, Ambrose,
Augustine, St. Peter, Paul, John, nay, an angel from heaven, teach
otherwise, yet I know for a certainty that what I teach is not human
but divine, i.e. that I ascribe all to God and nothing to man.”[610]
“I do not understand it, I am unable to believe ... I cannot believe
and yet I teach others. I know that it is right and yet believe it
I cannot. Sometimes I think: You teach the truth, for you have the
office and vocation, you are of assistance to many and glorify Christ;
for we do not preach Aristotle or Cæsar, but Jesus Christ. But when I
consider my weakness, how I eat and drink and am considered a merry
fellow, then I begin to doubt. Alas, if one could only believe!”[611]
“Heretics believe themselves to be holy. I find not a scrap of
holiness in myself, but only great weakness. As soon as I am assailed
by temptation I understand the Spirit, but nevertheless the flesh
resists. [That is] idolatry against the first table [of the law].
Gladly would I be formally just, but I am not conscious of being so.”
And Pomeranus replied: “Neither am I conscious of it, Herr
Doctor.”[612]
Before passing on to some of Luther’s statements concerning the
consonance of his life with faith, we may remark that there is no lack
of creditable passages in his writings on the conforming of ethics
to faith. Although here our task is not to depict in its entirety
the morality of Luther and his doctrine, but merely to furnish an
historical answer to the question whether there existed in him elements
which rendered his claim to a higher mission incredible, still we must
not forget his many praiseworthy exhortations to virtue, intended,
moreover, not merely for others, but also for himself.
That the devil must be resisted and that his tricks and temptations
lead to what is evil, has been insisted upon by few preachers so
frequently as by Luther, who in almost every address, every chapter of
his works, and every letter treats of the sinister power of the devil.
Another favourite, more positive theme of his discourses, whether to
the members of his household or to the larger circle of the public, was
the domestic virtues and the cheerful carrying out of the duties of
one’s calling. He was also fond, in the sermons he was so indefatigable
in preaching, of bringing home to those oppressed with the burden of
life’s troubles the consolation of certain evangelical truths, and of
breaking the bread of the Word to the little ones and the unlearned.
With the utmost earnestness he sought to awaken trust in God,
resignation to His Providence, hope in His Mercy and Bounty and the
confession of our own weakness. One idea on which he was particularly
fond of lingering, was, that we must pray because we depend entirely
upon God, and that we must put aside all confidence in ourselves in
order that we may be filled with His Grace.
Unfortunately such thoughts too often brought him back to his own pet
views of man’s passivity and absence of free will and the all-effecting
power of God. “The game is always won,” he cries, “and if it is
won there is no longer any pain or trouble more; there is no need
to struggle and fight, for all has already been accomplished.”[613]
“Christ, the Conqueror, has done all, so that there is nothing left
for us to do, to root out sin, to slay the devil or to overcome death;
they all have been trampled to the ground.... The doing was not,
however, our work.”[614]—“The Christian’s work is to sleep and do
nothing”; thus does he sum up in one of his sermons the exhortations
he had previously given to rest altogether on the merits of Christ;
even should a man “fall into sin and be up to the neck in it, let him
remember that Christ is no taker, but a most gracious giver”; this is
“a very sweet and cheering doctrine; others, it is true, teach that
you must do so much for sin, must live in this or that way, since God
must be paid to the last farthing before you can appear before Him.
Such people make of God a torturer and taskmaster.”[615] After having
recommended prayer he inveighs against what he calls its abuse: “They
say: I will pray until God gives me His Grace; but nothing comes of
it, because God says to them: You cannot and never will be able to
do anything; but I shall do everything.” “Everything through Christ:
through works, nothing whatever.”[616]
* * * * *
Luther has some remarkable admissions to make, particularly in his
private utterances, concerning the manner in which he himself and his
chosen circle lived their faith.
“I cannot express in words what great pains I took in the Papacy to
be righteous. Now, however, I have ceased entirely to be careful,
because I have come to the insight and belief that another has become
righteous before God in my stead.”[617]
“My doctrine stands whatever [my] life may be.”[618]
“Let us stick to the true Word that the seat of Moses may be ours.
Even should our manner of life not be altogether polished and perfect,
yet God is merciful; the laity, however, hate us.”[619]
“Neither would it be a good thing were we to do all that God commands,
for in that case He would be cheated of His Godhead, and the Our
Father, faith, the article of the forgiveness of sins, etc., would all
go to ruin. God would be made a liar. He would no longer be the one
and only truth, and every man would not be a liar [as Scripture says].
Should any man say: ‘If this is so, God will be but little served on
earth’ [I reply]: He is accustomed to that; He wills to be, and is, a
God of great mercy.”[620]
“I want to hand over a downright sinner to the Judgment Seat of our
Lord God; for though I myself may not have actually been guilty of
adultery, still that has not been for lack of good-will.”[621]—The
latter phrase was a saying of the populace, and does not in the least
mean that he ever really had the intention of committing the sin.
“I confess of myself,” he says in a sermon in 1532, “and doubtless
others must admit the same [of themselves], that I lack the diligence
and earnestness of which really I ought to have much more than
formerly; that I am much more careless than I was under the Papacy;
and that now, under the Evangel, there is nowhere the same zeal to
be found as before.” This he declares to be due to the devil and to
people’s carelessness, but not to his teaching.[622]
On other occasions he admits of his party as a whole, more particularly
of its leaders, viz. the theologians and Princes, that they fell more
or less short of what was required for a Christian life; among them he
expressly includes himself: “It is certain with regard to ourselves and
our Princes that we are not clean and holy, and the Princes have vices
of their own. But Christ loves a frank and downright confession.”[623]
Among such “confessions” made by Luther we find some concerning prayer.
Comparing the present with the past he says: “People are now so cold
and pray so seldom”; this he seeks to explain by urging that formerly
people were more “tormented by the devil.”[624] A better explanation
is that which he gave in his Commentary on Galatians: “For the more
confident we are of the freedom Christ has won for us, the colder and
lazier we are in teaching the Word, praying, doing good and enduring
contradictions.”[625]
We possess some very remarkable and even spirited exhortations to
prayer from Luther’s pen; on occasion he would also raise his own
voice in prayer to implore God’s assistance with feeling, fervour and
the greatest confidence, particularly when in anxiety and trouble
about his undertaking. (See vol. iv., xxv. 3.) He refers frequently
to his daily prayer, though he admits that the heretics, i.e. the
Anabaptists, also were in the habit of praying—in their own way. His
excessive labours and the turmoil of his life’s struggle left him,
however, little time and quiet for prayer, particularly for interior
prayer. Besides, he considered the canonical hours of the Catholics
mere “bawling,” and the liturgical devices for raising the heart
mere imposture. During the latter years he spent in the cloister
outside cares left him no leisure for the prayers which he was, as a
religious, bound to recite. Finally, towards the end of his life, he
often enough admits that his prayers were cold.[626] Frequently he was
obliged to stimulate his ardour for prayer as well as work by “anger
and zeal”;[627] “for no man can say,” as he puts it, “how hard a thing
it is to pray from the heart.”[628]
Even in the early part of his career he had deliberately and on
principle excluded one important sort of prayer, viz. prayer for help
in such interior trials as temptations against the celibacy enjoined
by the religious state, which he came to persuade himself was an
impossibility and contrary to the Will of God. Then, if ever, did he
stand in need of the weapon of prayer, but we read nowhere in his
letters, written in that gloomy period, of his imploring God humbly
for light and strength. On the contrary, he writes, in 1521: “What if
this prayer is not according to God’s Will, or if He does not choose
to grant it when it is addressed to Him?”[629] He ironically attacks
those who rightly said that “we must implore in all things the grace
of God, that He denies it to none,” and, that, with God’s grace, it
was possible to keep the vows. He replies to “these simple people and
those who care nothing for souls”: “Excellent! Why did you not advise
St. Peter to ask God that he might not be bound by Herod?” “That,”
he says, “is to make a mockery of serious matters” (“_est modus
ludendi_”)[630]—a censure which might very well have been flung back
at such a teacher of prayer.
Seventeen years later he gave the following advice on prayer: “We must
not curse, that is true, but pray we must that God’s name be hallowed
and honoured, and the Pope’s execrated and cursed together with his
god, the devil; that God’s Kingdom come, and that End-Christ’s kingdom
perish. Such a ‘paternosteral’ curse may well be breathed, and so
should every Christian pray.”[631] That the Pope be “cursed, damned,
dishonoured and destroyed, etc.,” such was his “daily, never-ending,
heartfelt prayer, as it was of all those who believe in Christ,” so
he assures us, “and I feel that my prayer is heard.”[632] His opinion
is that it is impossible to pray for anything without “cursing,” i.e.
excluding the opposite. “Someone asked Dr. Martin Luther whether
he who prayed thus must curse. ‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘for when I pray
“Hallowed be Thy Name,” I curse Erasmus and all heretics who dishonour
and blaspheme God.’”[633] His anger against the devil often broke
out in his prayers. “Though I cannot read or write,” he writes to
Melanchthon from the Coburg, “I can still think, and pray, and rage
(‘_debacchari_’) against the devil.”[634]
He ought to “offer incense to God,” he complains on one occasion in
1538 in his “Table-Talk,” but, instead, he brings Him “stinking pitch
and devil’s ordure by his murmuring and impatience.” “It is thus
that I frequently worship my God.... Had we not the article of the
forgiveness of sins, which God has firmly promised, our case would
indeed be bad.”[635] Again and again does he cast his anchor on this
article when threatened by the storms.
His private, non-polemical religious exercises seem to have been
exceedingly brief: “I have to do violence to myself daily in order
to pray, and I am satisfied to repeat, when I go to bed, the Ten
Commandments, the Our Father and then a verse or two; while thinking
these over I fall asleep.”[636] Unusual, and at the same time peculiar,
were the prayers which we hear of his offering with the intention of
doing some wholesome ill to his neighbour, or even of bringing about
the latter’s death in the interests of the Evangel. In a sermon on July
23, 1531, after reprimanding certain Wittenberg brewers, who, in the
hope of adding to their profits, were accustomed to adulterate their
beer, he says: “Unless you mend your ways, we shall pray that your
malt may turn to muck and sewage. Don’t forget that.”[637]
* * * * *
The Christian’s life of faith ought not merely to be penetrated with
the spirit of prayer but, in spite of all crosses and the temptations
from earthy things, to move along the safe path of peace and joy of
heart. Luther must have found much concerning “peace and joy in the
Holy Ghost” in his favourite Epistle to the Romans. He himself says:
“A Christian must be a joyful man.... Christ says, ‘Peace be with you;
let not your heart be troubled: have confidence, I have overcome the
world.’ It is the will of God that you be joyful.”
Of himself, however, he is forced to add: “I preach and write this,
but I have not yet acquired the art when tempted the other way. This
is in order that we may be instructed,” so he reassures himself. “Were
we always at peace, the devil would get the better of us.... The fact
is we are not equal to the holy Fathers in the matter of faith. The
further we fall short of them [this is another of his consolations],
the greater is the victory Christ will win; for in the struggle with
the devil we are the meanest, most stupid of foes, and he has a great
advantage over us.... Our Lord has determined to bring about the end
[the impending end of all] amidst universal foolishness.”[638] Thus,
according to him, the victory of Christ would be exalted all the more
by the absence of peace and joy amongst His followers.
What do we see of pious effort on his part, more particularly in the
matter of preparation for the sacraments, and repressing of self?
The spiritual life was to him a passive compliance with the faith
which God Himself was to awaken and preserve in the heart.
For “this is how it takes place,” he says, in a carefully considered
instruction, “God’s Word comes to me without any co-operation on my
part. I may, it is true, do this much, go and hear it, read it, or
preach it, so that it may sink into my heart. And this is the real
preparation which lies not in man’s powers and ability, but in the
power of God. Hence there is no better preparation on our part for
all the sacraments than to suffer God to work in us. This is a brief
account of the preparation.”[639]
Yet he himself perceived the peril of teaching that “those people were
fit to receive the sacrament whose hearts had been touched by the Word
of God so that they believed, and that whoever did not feel himself
thus moved should remain away.” He says: “I remark in many, myself
included, how the evil spirit, by insisting too much upon the right
side, makes people lazy and slow to receive the sacrament, and that
they refuse to come unless they feel assured that their faith has been
enkindled. This also is dangerous.”
Nevertheless he will have no “self-preparation”; such preparation, “by
means of one’s own works,” appeared to him Popish; it was loathsome to
God, and the doctrine of “faith alone” should be retained, even though
“reason be unable to understand it.”[640] Hence it is not surprising
that he declared it to be a dreadful “error and abuse” that we should
venture to prepare ourselves for the sacrament by our own efforts, as
those do who strive to make themselves worthy to receive the sacrament
by confession and other works.[641]
He storms at those priests who require contrition from the sinner who
makes his confession; his opinion is that they are mad, and that,
instead of the keys, they were better able to wield pitchforks.[642]
Even “were Christ Himself to come and speak to you as He did to
Moses and say, ‘What hast thou done?’ kill Him on the spot.”[643]
“Contrition only gives rise to despair, and insults God more than it
appeases Him.”[644] Such language may be explained by the fact, that,
in his theory, contrition is merely consternation and terror at God’s
wrath produced by the accusations of the law; the troubled soul ought
really to take refuge behind the Gospel.—How entirely different had
been the preparation recommended by the Church in previous ages for
the reception of the sacraments! She indeed enjoined contrition, but
as an interior act issuing in love and leading to the cleansing of
the soul. According to Luther, however, excessive purity of soul
was not advisable, and only led to presumption. “The devil is a holy
fellow,” he had said, “and has no need of Christ and His Grace”;
“Christ dwells only in sinners.”
On the other hand, in many fine passages, he recommends self-denial
and mortification as a check upon concupiscence. He even uses the
word “_mortificare_,” and insists that, till our last breath, we
must not cease to dread the “_fomes_” of the flesh and dishonourable
temptations. He alone walks safely, so he repeatedly affirms,
who keeps his passions under the dominion of the Spirit, suffers
injustice, resists the attacks of pride, and at the same time holds
his body in honour as the chaste temple of God by denying it much that
its evil lusts desire.
Luther himself, however, does not seem to have been overmuch given
to mortification, whether of the senses or of the inner man. He was
less notable for his earnest efforts to restrain the passions than for
that “openness to all the world had to offer,” and that “readiness
to taste to the full the joy of living,” which his followers admire.
Not only was he averse to penitential exercises, but he even refused
to regulate his diet: “I eat just what I like and bear the pains
afterwards as best I can.” “To live by the doctor’s rule is to live
wretchedly.” “I cannot comply with the precautions necessary to ensure
health; later on, remedies may do what they can.”[645] “I don’t
consult the doctors, for I don’t mean to embitter the one year of life
which they allow me, and I prefer to eat and drink in God’s name what
I fancy.”[646] With his reference to his “tippling” and the “Good
drink” we shall deal at greater length below, in section 5.
The aim of Luther’s ethics, as is plain from the above, did not rise
above the level of mediocrity. His practice, to judge from what has
been already said, involved the renunciation of any effort after the
attainment of eminent virtue. It may, however, be questioned whether he
was really true even to the low standard he set himself.
There is a certain downward tendency in the system of mediocrity which
drags one ever lower. Such a system carries with it the rejection
of all effort to become ever more and more pleasing to God, such as
religion must necessarily foster if it is to realise its vocation,
and to which those countless souls who were capable of higher things
have, under the influence of Divine grace, ever owed their progress.
The indispensable and noblest dowry of true piety is the moulding
of spiritual heroes, of men capable of overcoming the world and all
material things. Thousands of less highly endowed souls, under the
impulse from above, hasten to follow them, seeking the glory of God,
and comfort amidst the troubles of life, in religion and the zealous
practice of virtue. Mighty indeed, when transformed by them into
glowing deeds, were the watch words of the Church’s Saints: “I was
born for higher things,” “All for the greater glory of God,” “Conquer
thyself,” “Suffer and fight with courage and confidence.”
On the other hand, the system of mediocrity, organised yielding to
weakness, and the setting up of the lowest possible ethical standard,
could not be expected to furnish Luther and his disciples with any very
high religious motive. Even in the ordinary domain of Christian life
Luther’s too easy and over-confident doctrine of the appropriation
of the satisfaction made by Christ, sounds very different from our
Saviour’s exhortations: “Do penance, for the kingdom of heaven is at
hand”; “Whoever will come after Me, let him deny himself”; “Whoever
does not take up his cross and follow Me cannot be My disciple”;
or from those of St. Paul who said of himself, that the world was
crucified to him and he to the world; or from those of St. Peter:
“Seeing that Christ suffered in the flesh, arm yourselves with the like
mind.” “Do penance and be converted, that your sins may be blotted
out.” What Scripture requires of the faithful is not blind, mechanical
confidence in the merits of Christ as a cloak for our sins, but “fruits
worthy of penance.” In the long list of Luther’s works we seek in vain
for a commentary which brings these solemn statements on penance before
the mind of the reader with the emphasis hitherto habitual. Even were
such a commentary forthcoming, the living commentary of his own life,
which is the seal of the preacher’s words, would still be wanting.
On another point, viz. zeal for the souls of others, we see no less
clearly how far Luther was removed from the ideal. True zeal for souls
embraces all without exception, more particularly those who have gone
astray and who must be brought to see the light and to be saved.
Luther, on the other hand, again and again restricts most curiously the
circle to whom his Evangel is to be preached; the wide outlook of the
great preachers of the faith in the Church of olden days was not his.
“Three classes do not belong to the Evangel at all,” he had said, “and
to them we do not preach.... Away with the dissolute swine.” The three
classes thus stigmatised were, first the “rude hearts,” who “will
not accept the Evangel nor observe its behests”; secondly, “coarse
knaves steeped in great vices,” who would not allow themselves to be
bitten by the Evangel; thirdly, “the worst of all, who, beyond this,
even dare to persecute the Evangel.” The Evangel is, as a matter of
fact, intended only for “simple souls ... and to none other have we
preached.”[647] This explains why Luther long cherished the idea of
forming a kind of esoteric Church, or community consisting simply
of religiously disposed faithful; unfortunately “he did not find
such people,”[648] for most were content to neglect both Church and
Sacraments.
The older Church had exhorted all who held a cure of souls to be
zealous in seeking out such as had become careless or hostile. When,
however, someone asked Luther, in 1540, how to behave towards those
who had never been inside a church for about twenty years, he replied:
“Let them go to the devil, and, when they die, pitch them on the
manure-heap.”
The zeal for souls displayed by Luther was zeal for his own peculiar
undertaking, viz. for the Evangel which he preached. Zeal for the
general spread of the kingdom of God amongst the faithful, and
amongst those still sunk in unbelief, was with him a very secondary
consideration.
In reality his zeal was almost exclusively directed against the Papacy.
The idea of a universal Church, which just then was inspiring Catholics
to undertake the enormous missionary task of converting the newly
discovered continents, stood, in Luther’s case, very much in the
background.
Though, in part, this may be explained by his struggle for the
introduction of the innovations into those portions of Germany nearest
to him, yet the real reason was his surrender of the old ecclesiastical
ideal, his transformation of the Church into an invisible kingdom
of souls devoted to the Evangel, and his destruction of the older
conception of Christendom with its two hinges, viz. the Papacy
established for the spiritual and the Empire for the temporal welfare
of the family of nations. He saw little beyond Saxony, the land
favoured by the preaching of the new Gospel, and Germany, to which he
had been sent as a “prophet.” The Middle Ages, though so poor in means
of communication and geographical knowledge, compared with that age of
discovery, was, thanks to its great Catholic, i.e. world-embracing
ideas, inspired with an enthusiasm for the kingdom of God which found
no place in the ideals of Lutheranism. We may compare, for instance,
the heroic efforts of those earlier days to stem the incursions of the
Eastern infidel with the opinion expressed by the Wittenberg professor
on the war against the Crescent, where he declared the resistance
offered in the name of Christendom to the Turks to be “contrary to the
will of the Holy Ghost,” an opinion which he continued to hold, in
spite of, or perhaps rather because of, its condemnation by the Pope
(p. 76 ff., and p. 92). We may contrast the eloquent appeals of the
preachers of the Crusades—inspired by the danger which threatened from
the East—for the delivery of the Holy Land and the Holy Sepulchre,
with Luther’s statement quoted above, that God troubled as little
about the Tomb at Jerusalem as He did about the Swiss cows (p. 168).
In Luther’s thoughts the boundaries of the Christian world have
suddenly become much less extensive than in the Middle Ages, whilst
ecclesiastical interests, thanks to the new territorial rights of the
Princes, tend to be limited by the frontiers of the petty States.[649]
The stormy nature of the work on which his energies were spent could
not fail to impress on his personal character a stamp of its own. In
considering Luther’s ethical peculiarities, we are not at liberty to
pass over in silence the feverish unrest—so characteristic of him and
so unlike the calm and joyous determination evinced by true messengers
sent by God—the blind and raging vehemence, which not only suited the
violence of his natural disposition, but which he constantly fostered
by his actions. “The Lord is not in the storm”; these words, found in
the history of the Prophet Elias, do not seem to have been Luther’s
subject of meditation. He himself, characteristically enough, speaks
of his life-work as one long “tally-ho.” He was never content save
when worrying others or being worried himself; he always required
some object which he could pull to pieces, whereas true men of God are
accustomed to proceed quietly, according to a fixed plan, and in the
light of some great supernatural principle. With Luther excitement,
confusion and war were a second nature. “The anger and rage of my
enemies is my joy and delight, in spite of all their attempts to take
it from me and defraud me of it.... To hell-fire with such flowers and
fruits, for that is where they belong!”[650]
* * * * *
If, after listening to utterances such as the above, we proceed
to visit Luther in his domestic circle—as we shall in the next
section—we may well be surprised at the totally different impression
given by the man. In the midst of his own people Luther appears in a
much more peaceable guise.
He sought to fulfil his various duties as father of the family, towards
his children, the servants and the numerous guests who lived in or
frequented his house, whether relatives or others, so far as his
occupations permitted. He was affable in his intercourse with them,
sympathetic, benevolent and kind-hearted towards those who required his
help, and easily satisfied with his material circumstances. All these
and many other redeeming points in his character will be treated of
more in detail later. It is true that the ceaseless labours to which he
gave himself up caused him to overlook many abuses at his home which
were apparent to others.
The unrest, noise and bustle which reigned in Luther’s house, were,
at a later date, objected to by many outsiders. George Held wrote
in 1542 to George of Anhalt, who had thought of taking up his
abode with Luther, to dissuade him from doing so: “Luther’s house
is tenanted by a miscellaneous crowd (‘_miscellanea et promiscua
turba_’) of students, girls, widows, old women and beardless boys,
hence great unrest prevails there; many good men are distressed at
this on account of the Reverend Father [Luther]. Were all animated by
Luther’s spirit, then his house would prove a comfortable and pleasant
abode for you for a few days, and you would have an opportunity of
enjoying his familiar discourses, but, seeing how his house is at
present conducted, I would not advise you to take up your quarters
there.”[651]
Many of Luther’s friends and acquaintances were also dissatisfied
with Catherine Bora, because of a certain sway she seemed to exercise
over Luther, even outside the family circle, in matters both great
and small. In a passage which was not made public until 1907 we
find Johann Agricola congratulating himself, in 1544, on Luther’s
favourable disposition towards him: “Domina Ketha, the arbitress of
Heaven and Earth, who rules her husband as she pleases, has, for
once, put in a good word on my behalf.”[652] The assertion of Caspar
Cruciger, a friend of the family, where he speaks of Catherine as the
“firebrand in the house,” and also the report given to the Elector
by the Chancellor Brück, who accuses her of a domineering spirit,
were already known before.[653] Luther’s own admissions, to which we
shall return later, plainly show that there was some truth in these
complaints. The latest Protestant to write the life of Catherine
Bora, after pointing out that she was vivacious, garrulous and full
of hatred for her husband’s enemies, says: “The influence of such
a temperament, united with such strength of character, could not
fail to be evil rather than good, and for this both wife and husband
suffered.... We cannot but allow that Katey at times exerted a
powerful influence over Luther.” Particularly in moving him in the
direction in which he was already leaning, “her power over him was
great.”[654]
Luther’s son Hans was long a trial to the family, and his father
occasionally vents his ire on the youth for his disobedience and
laziness. He finally sent him to Torgau, where he might be more
carefully trained and have his behaviour corrected. Hans seems to have
been spoilt by his mother. Later on she spoke of him as untalented,
and as a “silly fellow,” who would be laughed at were he to enter the
Chancery of the Elector.[655] A niece, Magdalene Kaufmann, whom Luther
brought up in his house together with two other young relatives,[656]
was courted by Veit Dietrich, one of Luther’s pupils, who also
boarded with him. This was, however, discountenanced by the master
of the house, who declared that the wench “was not yet sufficiently
educated.” Luther was annoyed at her want of obedience and ended by
telling her that, should she not prove more tractable, he would marry
her to a “grimy charcoal-burner.” His opposition to the match with
Dietrich brought about strained relations between himself and one who
had hitherto been entirely devoted to him. Dietrich eventually found
another partner and was congratulated by Luther. Magdalene, with
Luther’s consent, married, first, Ambrose Berndt, an official of the
University, and, after his death in 1541, accepted the proposal of
Reuchlin, a young physician only twenty years of age, whom she married
in spite of Luther’s displeasure. With her restlessness she had
sorely troubled the peace of the household.[657]