Luther’s contribution to the Protestant Reformation forms the basis of the entire growth and development of Evangelical Lutheran theology. Furthermore, his writings have to a greater or lesser degree served as a direct source of inspiration for theological thought and the preaching of the Word throughout all of the epochs which have passed since the time of the Reformation. As a result, Luther’s writings have assumed a central place in the history of theology.
What we intend to do in this chapter is merely to provide a survey of the major facets of Luther’s theology, as seen against the background of previous and contemporary traditions.
Luther’s Development to the Diet of Worms, 1521
In modern Luther research many have shown partiality to “the theology of the young Luther.” This interest is based on the idea that the Reformation can be explained genetically by going back to the young Luther in order to see how his thinking developed. Furthermore, it is believed that significant parallels can be drawn between certain forms of modern theology and the young Luther and his earlier, relatively unknown world of thought. It ought to be remembered, however, that those who proceed on this basis look at the Reformer’s theology from points of view different from those he himself referred to in his more mature years. He himself was very critical of his earlier development and concluded that he was then in error in many respects and that he did not then clearly recognize the degree to which he was at variance with the scholastic tradition in which he had been educated.
But apart from this, it is certainly important for our understanding of Luther’s person and message to know something about his earlier development and the kind of education he received, for this forms the background for his appearance in public.
After preparatory schooling at Magdeburg and Eisenach, Martin Luther (1483–1546) enrolled in the year 1501 at the University of Erfurt, where he studied in the arts faculty and passed his master’s examinations on Jan. 7, 1505. Here he learned Aristotelian philosophy according to the via moderna, which is to say, in the nominalist tradition. Representatives of this school, which then dominated several German universities, stood in opposition to Thomism (via antiqua) and claimed that they understood and interpreted the philosophy of Aristotle in a more correct way. Later this was at times reflected in Luther’s polemics. He was known among his comrades as a “keen dialectician.”
After taking his master’s examination, Luther began to study law and at the same time to lecture in the arts faculty. But then the crisis occurred which in the summer of 1505 led him to decide to become a monk (the thunderstorm at Stotternheim, on July 2, 1505). Luther thus entered the cloister of the Augustinian eremites in Erfurt. After two years he was ordained as a priest (1507), and he studied theology in accordance with the study program of the cloister. During this time he became acquainted with the dogmatic position of the Occamists. Biel’s Collectorium and Peter d’Ailly’s and Occam’s sentence commentaries were included among the works he studied. In 1509, after lecturing for a year at Wittenberg on Aristotelian ethics, Luther himself became a so-called sententiarius, which gave him the right to lecture on the Sentences of Peter Lombard. The notes he made for these lectures have been preserved throughout the years. He also began to study Hebrew at this time, something quite unusual in those days.
In 1510 Luther was sent to Rome to attend to a matter which concerned a dispute in the Augustinian order, and he, like many other Rome-pilgrims of the time, was disappointed at the degeneracy there. After his return to Germany, Luther was forced to leave Erfurt and go to Wittenberg, where Elector Frederick the Wise had organized a small university in 1502 and where the vicar-general of Luther’s order, Johann von Staupitz, resided.
It was at the behest of Staupitz that Luther continued to devote himself to studying and preaching. In the following year (1512) Luther became doctor of theology and took a professorship, lectura in biblia, at the university.
At this time Luther was beset by anxiety, which could not be conquered even by an exaggerated use of the sacrament of penance. The Occamist doctrine of grace did not satisfy him. This doctrine stated that if a person did all he could, using his own powers (facere quod in se est), God would then also give him His grace. But how could one be sure that he had fulfilled all of the preliminaries? Occamist theology also calculated that man could, by his own natural powers, love God above all things. This prompted Luther to wonder whether or not he was one of the elect (predestination obsession).
In this situation Luther was helped to some extent by Staupitz, who was his confessor. Staupitz was a Thomist and a mystic, and therefore acted on the basis of a tradition different from Luther’s. He recommended, among other things, that Luther contemplate the crucified Christ rather than worry about his election, and thus see trials and tribulations as signs of God’s grace. On the strength of the new insights which Luther struggled to attain during this period, he acquired greater certainty and overcame his anxiety. Luther also later spoke of “temptations”—they occupy an important place in his theology. But in the question of their concrete background there is a difference between temptations during his time in the monastery and those he spoke of later on. The latter were more connected with difficulties in his life’s calling: the resistance and indifference of the people, the persecution and opposition from the pope and the enthusiasts, the realization that he alone was responsible for the upheavals of the Reformation, etc. During his time in the monastery, on the other hand, the question of predestination stood in the foreground. Luther’s temptations were also due to physical causes, but the assumption that his struggle in the monastery was a pathological depression is without valid foundation. This is proved, among other things, by his great capacity for work during this time.
From 1513 to 1517 Luther continued to work quietly—teaching, preaching, and disputing. During these years he lectured on the Psalms (1513–15), Romans (1515–16), Galatians (1516–17), and Hebrews (1517–18). Some of these lectures have been preserved, partly in notes taken by those who heard him and partly in Luther’s own notes.
These early writings prepared the way for Luther’s later appearance on a much larger stage and contributed to the mature Reformation point of view. With respect to the interpretation of Scripture, Luther here expressed the opinion that one can understand the Bible only from the vantage point of religious experience or, more properly, as a result of being practiced in faith.
Luther’s dependence on Augustine was very great. In his early years Luther as a general rule identified his position with Augustine’s. It was the latter’s teaching of sin and grace that Luther desired to uphold in opposition to the scholastic teaching of justification. This was also decisive as far as Luther’s relation to Occamism was concerned.
Many of the concepts derived from the nominalist tradition made a lasting impression on Luther’s thought. One can point, for example, to the distinction between theology and science, the critique of the habitus doctrine, or the idea of the absolute and well-ordered power of God (potentia Dei absoluta et ordinata). In the essential questions, however, one can see how radically Luther broke with Occamist theology. His polemical thrusts were directed early and often at this position. Occamism’s Pelagian doctrine of grace, and its blending of theology and philosophy were sharply attacked in a disputation against scholastic theology in 1517. Luther held that it was unreasonable to assert that man could of his own natural powers love God above all things and thereby prepare himself for the reception of grace. Rather, it is characteristic of natural man to love himself and the world and to be opposed to God. Grace precedes a good will, and to do good one must first be good. The Occamists spoke of a “logic of faith,” applicable even in questions involving the mysteries of faith, but in doing so they had to bring theological propositions before the bar of reason and mix together theology and philosophy. It had been said during the Middle Ages that no one could be a theologian without the help of Aristotle. But Luther said that no one could be a theologian unless he rejected the help of Aristotle.
Luther’s first appearances elicited small attention. But when he posted his Ninety-five Theses on Oct. 31, 1517, and thus took up arms against the flourishing misuse of the indulgence system, he aroused a storm which soon led to a complete break with the Church of Rome and its theology. A war of pamphlets ensued, involving among others Sylvester Prierias and Luther, and in 1518 the Roman curia, acting through Cardinal Cajetan, made a clumsy attempt to force Luther to recant (at Augsburg). A highly polemical debate between the Roman theologian Johann Eck and Luther, held in Leipzig in 1519, produced no great victory for either side.
As seen from the theological point of view, the disputation held when Luther visited in Heidelberg in 1518 was of greater significance. This debate not only touched upon the pertinent question of indulgences but also concerned the problems of sin and grace, of man’s inability to do good, of free will and faith. As the theses of 1517 had been directed against scholastic theology, the point of this disputation was directed against the theology and philosophy of Occamism. Luther also turned his back on the Occamist leaders at Erfurt. But as he did this, he won more and more respect from the younger generation. Wittenberg University flourished to such an extent during these years that it was soon able to compare itself with the greatest educational centers in all Germany.
A decisive event in Luther’s life was the discovery that the “righteousness of God” as referred to in Romans is not a righteousness that judges and demands, but the righteousness given by God in grace. Luther mentioned this discovery in the Foreword to his collected works (1545), and he associated it with the preparation of his second commentary on the Psalms, written in 1518–19. In interpreting the passage in Ps. 30 which says (in the Vulgate version) in tua justitia libera me, Luther went to the words in Rom. 1:17, “For in it [the Gospel] the righteousness of God is revealed through faith for faith, etc.,” and thereby achieved this insight after long deliberation. This discovery provided him with a key to the understanding of similar passages in the Bible, and he thus attained new clarity with respect to the point which became central in Reformation theology. The significance of this discovery (called das Turmerlebnis) has been the object of lively discussion in Luther research. If it happened at the same time as the Reformation breakthrough, it should most likely be assigned to an earlier year than Luther indicated, namely to the period 1511–14. Other scholars have tried to give another explanation while retaining Luther’s own dating.
Some of Luther’s most significant writings were published in the years 1519 and 1520. As evidence of his extraordinary productivity during these years one can point to the fact that in the second half of 1519 Luther published no less than 16 books. The 80-page (in the Weimar edition, 40) rejoinder directed against Sylvester Prierias was written in two days. Among other writings produced in these years were the minor Lectures on Galatians (1519); A Treatise on Good Works; and On the Liberty of a Christian (1520). In the same year appeared the Address to the Christian Nobility of the German Nation, with suggestions for reforms in education and in the church; also the controversial tract On the Babylonian Captivity of the Church, in which Luther made it clear that he had broken with the Roman concept of the sacraments, as well as with the monastic system. In so doing he also attacked some of the most important foundations of medieval culture.
A bull of excommunication was drawn up by degrees in Rome, in which Luther was accused of heresy on 41 points. These points did not touch upon the major aspects of his theology, however; for the most part they were of an inconsequential nature. The above-mentioned Dr. Eck and papal nuncio Jerome Aleander took the bull up to Germany to be made public. Among other things, the bull prescribed that Luther’s writings should be burned. Book burnings were organized in a number of places, but they did not awaken any great response. Luther responded by permitting an auto-da-fé to be held outside Wittenberg on Dec. 10, 1520, in which the canon law and certain other Romish books were burned. He also threw the papal bull into the fire on that occasion, an act which apparently went unnoticed for the most part at that time. What was more important in this event was Luther’s repudiation of canon law, which was symbolized by the burning of the same.
After negotiating at length, Elector Frederick of Saxony finally succeeded in bringing the Luther matter before the Reichstag, which met in Worms in April 1521, with Emperor Charles V in attendance. Standing before the assembled diet, Luther was called upon to recant. His famous answer, which he presented after a day of deliberation, made it clear that he could not recant unless he was convinced by Scripture or by right reason. The discussions which followed between Luther and the leading Catholic theologians present in Worms only served to show more clearly that it was impossible for Luther to accept the Roman Church and its theology.
Luther’s Theology in Relation to Occamism and Late Medieval Mysticism
We have already noted the decisive break between Luther and Occamism, which was that aspect of scholasticism to which Luther stood nearest. The criticism which led Luther to reject the Occamist doctrine of grace has also been mentioned. According to Occamism, grace was a new condition in man, a habitus infusus, imparted as a reward to those who did all they could to prepare themselves for the reception of grace. Luther, on the other hand, looked upon grace as the forgiveness of sin, which can be received only by those who are in themselves sinful and as nothing before God. To ascribe to man a natural ability to love God or to prepare himself for grace is to render the Gospel null and void, said Luther.
There are those, however, especially in Roman Catholic quarters, who have tried to show that Luther was essentially dependent on the Occamist tradition on certain other points of doctrine. It is asserted that this was true, for example, of the imputation concept, as well as with respect to the relationship between theology and philosophy. Even at these points, however, it is possible to observe a difference in kind between Occamism and Lutheranism in spite of a certain similarity of thought.
Occamism appended the following to the accepted doctrine of justification: God, in His potentia absoluta, can make a sinner righteous without reference to any habitual grace and independently of the existing order of salvation. Justification takes place only by imputation or by divine acceptance. When Luther said, correspondingly, that God “declares” a sinner to be righteous, or that justification has its sole basis in God’s free mercy, he was proceeding on an entirely different basis. Such acts do not presuppose a gratuitous disregard of sin or of the order of salvation; they rather do presuppose God’s order of salvation, whereby sinners are justified for Christ’s sake apart from all merit of their own. The basis of salvation is to be found not in arbitrary power exercised by God, but in Christ’s substitutionary suffering and in the perfect merit which He won. So in spite of certain external similarities, Luther’s concept of imputation was basically quite different from that of the nominalists.
With respect to the question of the relationship between theology and philosophy, nominalism destroyed the harmonious unity which was characteristic of high scholasticism. The truth of theology cannot be the object of “knowing” in the proper sense of the term, they maintained, inasmuch as it is not based on direct observation or rational axioms and therefore cannot be proved beyond all doubt. Theological knowledge presupposes revelation, and its certainty rests on external authority. In spite of this, however, Occamism assumed that there was a close relationship between the knowledge of faith and reason, and rational speculation was accepted without question as an aid in the interpretation ofthe articles of faith. As a result, theological knowledge was placed for all practical purposes on the same level as philosophical speculation.
In general, Luther agreed with the Occamist distinction between faith and reason, but at the same time he gave up on rational speculation and insisted that one could not judge or fathom revealed truth by the use of reason. The gulf between faith and reason as Luther understood it does not exist simply because the knowledge of faith is based on authority, but above all because reason has been blinded through the corruption of nature and as a result is unable to understand “what belongs to the Spirit of God.” Luther therefore concluded that nominalist speculation concerning the questions of faith represented an inappropriate blending of theology and philosophy. The distinction which Luther himself drew between faith and reason did not rest merely on the plane of epistemological theory; for him it was a matter which concerned the basic theological questions. This distinction was related in Luther’s theology to the purely theological contrast between flesh and Spirit and between Law and Gospel. As a result, there was no profound agreement between Luther and Occamism in this matter either. Rather, as seen on the theological level, there was the sharpest antithesis.
Luther’s relationship to late medieval mysticism has also been discussed at length by scholars in the field of Luther research. There were a number of clear points of contact here—more important, perhaps, than those which united Luther with the nominalists—but nevertheless, there were also profound differences with respect to the basic questions.
Mysticism represented a personal, experiential kind of religion, which was in opposition not only to the Christianity of the institutional church but also to scholastic education. The mystics insisted that philosophic wisdom was unprofitable and deceitful. Luther, in his opposition to scholasticism, could go along with such tendencies to a certain degree, at the same time that he made this kind of criticism much more profound.
Religious anthropology was another point of contact. The mystics spoke of the “old man” as the egocentric will in opposition to God, and of the “new man” as the will which is united with God. This contrast reminds us of Luther’s distinction between the old man and the new. Furthermore, the mystics strongly emphasized the significance of suffering and tribulation for the growth of the Christian. They also spoke of putting the egocentric will to death and of the contrast between the“inner” and the “outer” man. This has its parallels in Luther. He adopted the mystic point of view in many respects and gave expression to similar experiences concerning communion between God and man.
At the same time, however, the decisive difference between Luther and the mystics is to be found in the theological view of man. They did not agree about sin, for example. Luther taught the doctrine of original sin, while the mystics held to the idea that there is an indestructible divine nucleus in man’s innermost being. The mystic way is to turn away from all that is external, from all that belongs to the world. Even sin was looked upon at times as something external, something that does not touch the inner man. It amounts to this, that the world is looked upon as something unreal, immaterial, which the mystic must learn to disregard. But as Luther saw it, sin could not be ignored in such a manner, inasmuch as man is a sinner through and through. Man’s self-knowledge consists precisely in that he comes to know himself as a sinner. For the mystic the object is to enter his own innermost being and thereby to experience liberation; for Luther conversion is to experience God’s judgment upon oneself.
As can be seen from what has been said, Luther and the mystics also conceived of man’s union with God in different ways. According to the mystics, this union takes place within man’s soul, beyond sin and corruption. Luther also spoke of faith as a darkness in the soul of man, as something beyond all experience (or observation). But it is not an experience of the divine as something resident in our being, but an adherence to the external Word. Luther also believed that the fellowship between God and man is something real, but that it is a fellowship between God and sinful man. As seen from the human side, it is not absorption in the divine but a recognition of sin and a plea for grace.
Mysticism assumed so many different forms, however, that in comparing Luther with mysticism one cannot justly refer to the latter as an unambiguous quantity. Luther admitted that he thought very highly of the German mysticism which he found in Tauler and Theologia deutsch. He also appreciated the insights of Bernard of Clairvanx, although he was critical of some, while he categorically rejected the Platonic mysticism as presented in the writings of Dionysius the Areopagite (see above, pp. 147–48). In the sermons of Tauler, Luther found a concept of salvation which was free of the prevalent emphasis on merit and which conceived of Christian righteousness not only as “virtue” but as a supernatural participation in God’s own being, as God’s presence in the soul. In his critique of the scholastic concept of grace and merit, Luther therefore sensed a close kinship with this kind of mysticism, in spite of the distance between himself and the ideas that were typical of mysticism in general.
Major Aspects of Luther’s Theology
a. Understanding of Scripture. Luther’s theology is a theology of the Word. “So faith comes from what is heard, and what is heard comes by the preaching of Christ” (Rom. 10:17). These Pauline words were of basic significance to the Protestant Reformation. The divine Word, which creates faith, stands out at the same time as the foundation of theology. The authority of Scripture had certainly been emphasized before this—and not least of all in the Occamist tradition—but when Luther referred to Scripture as the divine Word, brought to man through the apostles and prophets, he spoke with a new conviction concerning the primary position and the inalienable authority of the Word. What was new about Luther’s attitude toward Scripture was chiefly his deeper insight into its content. Furthermore, Luther recognized that the authority of the Word was valid even where it was opposed by tradition; it is binding on the conscience. Finally, the principles of interpretation were also thoroughly transformed in Luther’s exposition of the Bible.
Christ is at the center of the Bible. “Scripture ought to be understood for Christ, not against Him; yes, if it does not refer to Him it is not true Scripture.” “Take Christ away from the Bible and what more do you find there?” Essential to understanding the Word is accepting the promises of the Gospel by faith. If this faith is lacking, the divine Word cannot be understood rightly. Luther thereby removed himself from a legalistic interpretation of the Bible, which finds in Scripture a collection of different doctrines and commands, and from a closely related “enthusiastic” concept which claims to possess the “inner Word” as a norm for the interpretation of the Bible. By clearly comprehending the fact that the message of the Gospel is the central facet of the content of Scripture, Luther possessed a certain freedom with respect to his view of the details of the Bible, a freedom which signified nothing else than that the central content (total context) of the Bible is the determining factor in the interpretation of the details. This was by no means a defiance of Scripture’s canonical authority. Luther’s position has sometimes been interpreted to mean this, but such conclusions are incorrect. Understanding in the deeper sense presupposes exactly what we mentioned—the obedience of faith before the external Word. Faith itself, therefore, is based on the unconditioned validity of the Word. Its authority is also justified by this, that we men, because of our weakness, must be bound to Scripture as an external, binding norm. “If the church is not to be destroyed, it is necessary for us to hold fast to the distinct commands and writings of the apostles.” According to another of Luther’s statements, the apostles are our infallible teachers by virtue of a special divine commission.
In our relationship to the Bible, therefore, both freedom and constraint hold sway. As seen from the point of view of faith as such, we are free with respect to the literal details. Faith is of primary importance in the interpretation of the Bible; this means that Scripture should be understood in the spirit of Christ and not legalistically. But as seen from the point of view of the conditions under which faith comes into being, we are bound to Scripture as an external authority.
Men have frequently pointed to Luther’s so-called critique of the canon (to certain statements made about James, among others) as an example of his freedom vis-à-vis the authority of Scripture. But this is misleading. As a matter of fact, Luther did not feel that the New Testament canon was absolutely fixed. He looked upon four of the last books of the New Testament (Hebrews, James, Jude, and Revelation) as apocryphal, or as writings whose apostolic authority was debatable. According to Luther, evangelical character and apostolic authenticity are above all important in the determination of canonicity. Thus, for example, what is said in the Epistle of James about faith and works is interpreted as an indication that the epistle is neither apostolic nor canonical. (In the Protestant tradition, it was not until the time of Gerhard that also the so-called antilegomena among the New Testament writings began to be recognized as truly canonical.)
In spite of certain similarities, there is a great contrast between Luther’s interpretation of the Bible and the modern, historical interpretation, but this contrast has frequently been overlooked. It is certainly true that Luther attached the greatest importance to what he called the literal or historical meaning of Scripture. But by this he did not mean a historical interpretation in the modern sense of the term; it was rather an understanding derived from within the context of faith. Luther believed, for example, that the Old Testament is a direct witness to Christ, and not simply that it contains some predictions about Him. The “history of religion” view of the Bible was unknown at that time.
Luther’s understanding of the Old Testament corresponded to the ideas he went on to develop with respect to the relationship between Law and Gospel. The Mosaic law, in the jurisdictional sense, was abolished through Christ. It was for the Jews what the Saxon laws were for the Germans and is therefore valid only for a certain people and in a limited time. The Law has, however, received a higher fulfillment than the external execution of the commandments. It points forward to the Gospel and is brought to its fulfillment only through the proclamation of righteousness by faith in Christ. The Law is therefore preserved, and as God’s commands, to which all men are bound, it is valid even in the era of the new covenant. At the same time, however, we can also see the Gospel in the Old Testament. Christ is there too, not only as the future Messiah, foretold in the Law and the Prophets, but also as the One who speaks directly in the Psalms and through the prophets.
The traditional medieval interpretation of the Bible held that Scripture has a fourfold meaning. It can be expounded literally, tropologically (i.e., with respect to the individual Christian), anagogically (i.e., with respect to eternity), and also allegorically, by which was meant that one could, for example, allow the Word to point to general realities in the world of faith or of the church.
Luther rejected this scheme. As far as he was concerned, Scripture has but one original and proper meaning, the grammatical or historical. He also recognized, as a matter of course, the figurative interpretation, which is to be found in the Bible itself, as for example in the parallels drawn between Christ and certain Old Testament figures (typology). Luther also spoke (especially in his early sermons) of a sensus spiritualis ormysticus, which points to a direct allegory. But this point of view was given a subordinate position. It lacked reliability, and it appeared in Luther’s sermons only as a traditional embellishment of the exposition of Scripture. In later years Luther forsook this kind of Bible interpretation more and more.
In Luther’s view of Scripture is the idea that the Bible can be understood from out of itself, each person acting as his own interpreter. The interpretations of tradition or of the clergy are not necessary for a right understanding of the Bible (as Roman Catholic theologians have said). The Word possesses in itself an “external clarity” which it conveys and administers through the office of the ministry (in ministerio verbi). It is for this reason as well that Scripture—without the addition of human commands and doctrinal opinions—is the sole foundation of faith.
The “external clarity” of the Word must be distinguished from the so-called “inner clarity,” which is the hearts understanding of the content of Scripture. This comes into being only through the Holy Spirit, who enlightens and instructs man internally. Luther also emphasized the significance of experience for the proper understanding of God’s Word. Training in faith, plus the experience which is given through the application of faith and through tribulation of faith and through tribulation of various kinds, is necessary for a genuine insight into the Word (the school of the Holy Spirit).
It is characteristic of Reformation theology that the Word is placed in the center of things not only as a source of insight into a supernatural reality but also as an effective, creative, and life-giving Word, through which God judges and raises up. Faith is related to the Word itself, not simply to a metaphysical reality behind the Word, and there it finds salvation. In this we can see a fundamental contrast between Reformation theology and scholastic theology.
b. Law and Gospel; evangelical penance. According to one of Luther’s well-known expressions, the proper division of Law and Gospel is the Christian’s highest art. One can with good reason refer to the dialectic which Luther had in mind here as being fundamental to his entire theology.
It is possible to receive the impression from the many relevant statements which have been made that Law and Gospel are two distinct orders and that in the life of the Christian the order of the Law ought to be replaced by the order of the Gospel. Luther, however, was very much opposed to this interpretation (as he made clear in his dispute with the antinomians, for example). For just as the Law never reaches fulfillment apart from the Gospel, so also must the Gospel be preached together with the Law; the Law serves as background. Apart from the Law, the meaning of the Gospel would be lost. How could one proclaim the forgiveness of sin apart from the Law, which reveals sin and accuses the conscience? For as the Law unmasks sin and condemns man, it also drives him to seek the help of Christ (cf. Rom. 3:20; Gal. 3:19, 24). Thus it is that Law and Gospel are closely linked together in this tangible manner; they mutually condition one another. Nevertheless it is necessary (as said) clearly to distinguish the one from the other.
The Law tells us what we are to do, under the threat of punishment. The Gospel, on the other hand, promises and provides the forgiveness of sin. Just as one must differentiate between the righteousness which is acceptable before men and that which is acceptable before God, so one must also distinguish between the preaching of the Law and that of the Gospel. One task of the Law is to compel men to act, to promote the good and prevent the evil. As such it therefore includes all public order and activity on the different levels of life. Luther called this the civil use of the Law (usus legis civilis). But when it comes to a man’s relation to God—his righteousness in a higher sense—the task of the Law is completely different. The Law cannot produce a single good work, and man is here referred to the Word of the Gospel, which offers him forgiveness of sin for the sake of Christ. In this context the function of the Law is simply to reveal sin and to make the threat of wrath real—the wrath under which man stands because of his sinful nature. Luther called this the theological or the spiritual use of the Law (usus theologicus seu spiritualis).
Law and Gospel characterize two kinds of preaching, which simultaneously exert their effect: the Law accuses and judges, while the Gospel awakens faith in the heart and thereby raises man up and re-creates him so that he can begin to love God and his neighbor—i.e., so that he can live in the frame of mind which the command of love demands.
It was obedience to Law and Gospel which produced the evangelical form of penance. In Luther’s theology this form gradually replaced the institutional system of penance developed during the Middle Ages, the misuse of which Luther attacked as early as in the Ninety-five Theses of 1517. Some of the major aspects of his critique of the Roman doctrine of penance will be apparent from what follows.
Repentance in the New Testament sense (μεταvοια) is not simply a temporary penitential act, as in the Roman Catholic system; it is rather a lifelong conversion accomplished by the death of the old man and by participation in Christ’s substitutionary satisfaction. This fundamental discovery, testified to already in the Ninety-five Theses (cf., e.g., Thesis 1), gradually brought with it a radical transformation of the entire doctrine of penance.
The proper kind of contrition is not that which is merely concerned about isolated offenses, but is rather to be found in the brokenheartedness which the Law brings about through the insight that all men stand under the curse of sin. As a result, contrition is not a meritorious activity but is a passive acceptance of the accusation of the Law, which presupposes faith in the judgment God’s Word pronounces over sinful men.
As a consequence of this, the confession of sin is something other than a recitation of all of one’s faults in the confessional, which is an impossible demand. But in addition to this, sin does not consist of isolated offenses; it is the corruption of one’s entire nature, which is not recognized until the Word of God is proclaimed. At the same time, however, Luther continued to emphasize the great usefulness of private confession. But he refused to believe that the granting of absolution is a priestly privilege. He looked upon it as a brotherly service which every Christian has the right to practice in an effort to strengthen and comfort the conscience of the penitent.
Forgiveness of sin is not dependent on the merit of contrition, and neither must it be made to depend on satisfaction; it is granted to the faithful exclusively for the sake of the mercy of Christ. The true “satisfaction” is to be found in the suffering and death of Christ, while the demand for making satisfaction is contrary to the meaning of the Gospel, as is also the indulgence system.
In this new interpretation, repentance can thus no longer be designated as a meritorious act. It is rather the fruit of the preaching of Law and Gospel. The judgment of wrath does its work through the Law, by accusing the conscience and by showing man that everything in him is sinful. The Word of forgiveness is proclaimed through the Gospel, which awakens faith in God’s mercy and grace and transforms man in such a way that he receives a new mind and turns his eyes from himself to that which Christ is and does. So understood, repentance involves the entire life of the Christian and denotes what happens when Law and Gospel exert their influence and justification by faith is brought about.
c. Doctrine of justification. According to Luther there are two kinds of righteousness, an external and an inner. The former consists of external deeds and is acquired through just conduct. This can also be called civic righteousness, for it concerns man as a member of society, or his conduct in relation to other men. His external life is judged to be either righteous or unrighteous.
Inner righteousness, on the other hand, consists of the purity and perfection of the heart. As such, it cannot be acquired through external deeds—no more than man can make himself to be God. For this righteousness is of God and comes only as a gift, by faith in Jesus Christ. This righteousness is judged not before men but before God. Because man is sinful, he cannot attain to this righteousness by himself. It contradicts all reason and goes beyond anything that can be comprehended or achieved by human effort. This righteousness is acquired through the suffering and death of Christ, and it is attributed to man by faith, quite apart from human merit or worth. God declares sinners to be righteous for the sake of Christ. Such justification is brought about when a man humbles himself before God, recognizes himself to be a sinner, and cries out for the mercy and grace of God. Such a man confesses that he is full of sin, lies, folly, incompetence, and perdition, while God is all that is good. In this faith, and with such prayers, man’s heart becomes one with the righteousness and virtue of God. Christ becomes his righteousness, his sanctification, his deliverance. This is the inner righteousness (justitia ab intra, ex fide, ex gratia) set forth in accordance with the words of Paul, “For we hold that a man is justified by faith apart from works of the Law.” (Rom. 3:28)
We also find, in the Reformation doctrine of justification by faith, that the concept of faith itself has been transformed. It is distinctly different from the parallel concept taught by scholastic theology.
In the scholastic tradition, men spoke of faith as something conceivable on the level of reason, which could be acquired through instruction and preaching (fides acquisita). This was distinguished from infused faith (fides infusa), which is a gift of grace and implies complete adherence to all revealed truth. Luther rejected this distinction: The faith which “comes by preaching” coincides with that which (according to Rom. 3:28) is justifying; it is wholly and completely a gift of God, a “truly infused faith” (fides vere infusa). It is not conceivable to the mind of man, and it signifies not only an intellectual adherence to the truths of faith but an actual fellowship with God, in which man places all of his trust in God and looks to Him as the source of all good (cf. the exposition of the First Commandment in the Large Catechism).
Justifying faith, in other words, is not only a historical knowledge of the content of the Gospel; it is the acceptance of the merits of Christ. Faith, therefore, is trust in God’s mercy for the sake of Christ. In this connection Luther coined the phrase fides apprehensiva Christi. The decisive thing is that the Gospel of Christ’s victory over sin and death is received as saving and life-giving truth. “The acquired faith as well as the infused faith of the sophists says of Christ, ‘I believe in the Son of God, who suffered and was awakened,’ and there it leaves off. But the true faith says, ‘I certainly believe in God’s Son, who suffered and was resurrected; I am sure that He did all of this for me, for my sins ….’ This ‘for me’ or ‘for us’—when it is embraced in faith—makes for a true faith; this is different from all other kinds of faith, which only hear of things that have happened” (WA 39 I, 44 ff.). As Luther understood it, faith is not only a mass of knowledge; it is a living power, “which makes Christ active in us, opposing death, sin, and the Law.” (Ibid.)
The Lutheran sola fide concept must also be understood in the light of what has been said. Also here Luther’s opposition to scholasticism lies in the background. In previous years men spoke, on the basis of Gal. 5:6, of a fides caritate formata (the Vulgate version) and gave the impression that faith was not alone sufficient for justification. Faith could please God only if it were associated with deeds of love.
Luther demonstrated that the Pauline passage quoted above refers not to justification but to the Christian life as a whole, which is definitely characterized by faith active in love. Justification itself, on the other hand, is solely the work of faith. It takes place not on the basis of human merit but only for the sake of the righteousness of Christ, which has been credited to us. And faith, as we have already said, is the acceptance of Christ’s substitutionary deeds as having been carried out for our sake. It makes man one with Christ, so that Christ “lives in his heart by faith.” Faith therefore is not an “unformed” function of the soul, which must be perfected by love. It is itself active, a life-giving power, which can only unceasingly do what is good.
In his description of faith Luther referred to the example of Abraham as this is given in Rom. 4: “Abraham believed God, and it was reckoned to him as righteousness.” In connection with this, it is customary to speak of an imputative justification as characteristic of Reformation theology. The righteousness which is here referred to is not an inherent quality in man. Man is declared to be righteous through God’s own decree. And this is done not on the basis of any quality or merit in man himself, but for the sake of Christ (propter Christum). Luther also put it this way, that no one but a sinner can be justified. And with that we come back to where we began: the righteousness under discussion here can only come to man as a gift, an aliena justitia, i.e., it is not our own but Christ’s righteousness, which is imputed to us by faith.
But this so-called imputation concept must not be interpreted to mean that it refers only to an external form of judgment. For it was precisely in this context (as we saw) that Luther spoke of an “inner righteousness.” The verdict which exonerates, which makes a man just, is God’s own living and creative Word, which provides the new birth and changes man entirely. Therefore there is no contradiction (as some have wanted to maintain) between the concept of imputation as the basis of justification and the idea of faith as a living, active power. For the Holy Spirit is given with faith, and He works that which is good and through love fulfills the Law.
Many misunderstandings have arisen concerning Luther’s doctrine of faith and works. For example, it is said that the Lutheran sola fide concept implies that good works have lost their rightful significance. A glance at Luther’s thinking on the subject would reveal, however, that such conclusions are not at all in agreement with his principles.
Faith and love are related to one another as are Law and Gospel, or as the divine and human natures in Christ. They can certainly be distinguished from one another, but they cannot be separated. The righteousness of faith refers to man in his relation to God (coram Deo). The righteousness of good works or love refers, on the other hand, to man in relation to his neighbor (coram hominibus). These must not be confused in such a way that man will seek to become just in the sight of God on the strength of his good works, nor in such a way that he will attempt to conceal sin with grace. Both would be signs of a false faith. From this it follows that faith and works can be sharply separated, even designated as incompatible opposites; but at the same time it is also true that they are very intimately related.
With respect to justification itself, good works must be as clearly distinguished from faith as possible. For this has to do with faith alone. As Luther expressed it, the Law must not be permitted to force its way up in the conscience. The man who has been crushed by the Law, and recognizes himself to be a sinner, can be raised up only by faith. He must look only to the cross of Christ, and not to the Law or to his own works, as though they could make satisfaction for his misdeeds. On this point, therefore, faith and works are mutually exclusive.
But when one looks upon the actual life of the Christian in its entirety, he can see that faith and works always go together. Faith cannot be apart from works; it constantly does what is good. As a result, we can speak of works in such a way that faith is presupposed by them and included within them. When the Bible, for example, refers to the works of the Law, the basic demand is for faith. For apart from faith no one can fulfill the Law or do what is good. Hence it is that the demand for works itself presupposes faith.
Similarly, one can speak of faith in such a way that good works are included in the very concept of faith. Faith is thus conceived of in a concrete sense, as faith incarnate in the works of love. But this does not mean that love forms faith, as the scholastics said; on the contrary, it is faith that forms love. That is to say, it is faith alone which makes our deeds good. To use another expression, faith is the divine nature of good works. With respect to justification, therefore, faith is spoken of in an abstract manner apart from all works and before all works. But when reference is made to the Christian life as a whole, faith and love belong together and could not be thought of as separate; for faith takes form in love, and love becomes what it is through faith.
d. Luther’s concept of man. Luther’s theological view of man corresponds with his doctrine of justification, but it is sharply at odds with the medieval view of man. It is often said that a “whole man” (totus homo) view of man was characteristic of Luther. Instead of the scholastic dualism between body and soul, higher and lower spiritual powers, Luther introduced a concept of wholeness into the theological context. The results of this can be seen in various facets of his theology.
Original sin, as Luther understood it, is not merely the lack of original Godlikeness; it is a real form of corruption, which has set its mark on the whole man. In concrete terms sin is not only concupiscentia—conceived of as a negative disposition of the lower powers of the soul—but an evil which effects man in his entirety, including (and indeed above all) the higher powers of the soul
According to Luther, unbelief is the basic sin, a turning away from God. The first sin, which included all others in itself, was a doubting of God’s Word and a deviation from the divine command (el. Gen. 3:1 ff.). In this alienation from God there is present at the same time an evil desire, a false intention, determined by self-love and pride, which has left an indelible mark on the will of man. Even the pious are not without sin—not even when they are at their best. The judgment which says that man is a sinner involves his entire person, such as he is before God. If man is judged only in his relationship to other men, and on the basis of his observable conduct, the import of original sin may not be apparent. The corruption of sin is congenital, transmitted from generation to generation by natural propagation, and is therefore present prior to all experience and all conscious expressions of the will. As a result, this concept of sin must not be confused with the use of the term in a moral or legal sense. Luther spoke of original sin as a hidden evil (malum absconditum), an inscrutable mystery, which in a secret manner determines the shape of human existence. One can grasp the fact that he is a sinner in the Biblical sense only in the light of the Word, and this reality can be kept in mind only in the knowledge of faith, in confession and prayer.
In some instances Luther’s concept of original sin has been interpreted as something which concerns only the God-man relationship, i.e., that it is a distorted relation to God. But this is not fair to Luther, for whom original sin meant a real corruption of human nature, involving both body and soul, or the entire man. The depths of this injury cannot be comprehended by man, inasmuch as we do not know what human life would be without sin. That it is a concrete form of corruption is also evident from this, that sin is assumed to be inherited along with our physical birth. “All that is born of father and mother is sin.” Original sin is not simply a condition of guilt, which is removed by Baptism; it is also a corruptio naturae, which does not cease to exert its influence until the body is destroyed in the grave.
What the totus homo view means, therefore, is that man is seen from the theological point of view in his relationship to God (coram Deo). And so he is perceived as completely determined by this relationship and not as a composite of various spiritual faculties and powers. The image of God in man (imago Dei, Gen. 1:26), or the original righteousness, does not consist of man’s talents and reason, nor of anything else which now characterizes him as man; it rather refers to man’s original perfection and holiness. In a corresponding way, original sin is not simply an inclination toward evil, attached to the lower spiritual powers (concupiscentia, fomes); it is the corruption of man in his entirety.
According to the scholastics, original sin is removed through Baptism. That which remains in the lives of the faithful was said to be merely a vestige of concupiscence, which was not considered to be sin—only a propensity to sin. Luther agreed that the guilt of original sin is certainly removed through Baptism, but the corrupting influence of original sin remains even in those who have been regenerated. The vestiges of sin are in themselves sin. Concupiscence is not merely a force which drives a man to sin; it is in itself sin. This concrete sinfulness gradually abates, however, in those who live under the dominion of the Holy Spirit. A conflict between the Spirit and the flesh begins as soon as a man begins to believe. The faithful are therefore both just and sinful at one and the same time (simul justus et peccator). This means, as Luther understood it, not only that sin abates and righteousness increases, but also that the man who has faith in Christ is—that is to say, is reckoned to be—completely righteous, at the same time that he, in his fleshly nature, is completely a sinner. Sin and righteousness are therefore perpetual attributes of the entire man. One is both an “old man” and a “new man” simultaneously. The same person is both “two whole men and one whole man” (duo toti homines et unus torus homo).
Free will: Luther’s ideas concerning man’s free will must be seen in the light of his doctrine of justification. As seen from another point of view, these ideas also give clear expression to his torus homo view of man.
In the famous controversial treatise De servo arbitrio, which he wrote against Erasmus in 1525, Luther argues as follows: With respect to that which concerns salvation or eternal blessedness, man is completely without a free will; it is entirely a divine quality, which can only be ascribed to God. As Erasmus understood it, man has the capacity to decide to accept or reject grace. Were this not the case, he maintained, the admonitions of Scripture would be meaningless. Luther asserted, on the other hand, that there was absolutely no support for this concept of a free will in Scripture, regardless of how many ecclesiastical authorities might be quoted. Such a free will simply does not exist. It is pure illusion. Salvation depends exclusively on the omnipotent divine will of grace. As far as Scriptural admonitions are concerned, they do not appeal to a free capacity for good; they are rather designed to reveal man’s lack of such capacity and, in so doing, his actual condition. This is the function of the Law.
As shown above, the idea of a meritum de congruo—natural man’s preparation for grace—grew apace during the Middle Ages. This was the tradition that Erasmus perpetuated, even though his own position can best be designated as rationalistic humanism, influenced by late medieval mysticism. In rejecting the Erasmian point of view, Luther turned against the entire psychologizing tendency which characterized the medieval ordo salutis and which implied that grace and merit were on the same level.
The merit concept, which was one of the fundamentals of the medieval tradition, was either rejected completely or transformed from the ground up in Reformation theology. If “merit” signifies a good deed, deserving of grace or blessedness in whole or in part, the idea is entirely foreign to Luther’s teaching of justification. The Scriptural idea of reward for good works was construed by Luther in a wholly different manner and was not related to the acquisition of salvation. Hence it was that the merit concept itself was altered in the Lutheran point of view.
The freedom of the will which Luther denied was defined by Erasmus as the capacity to associate oneself with that which leads to eternal blessedness or to turn away from it. This freedom refers, therefore, to the ability to do good in the spiritual sense, or the power to choose between good and evil. So if this freedom is denied, this does not involve determinism as it is commonly understood.
Luther drew a sharp line of demarcation between two kingdoms or dominions. The one is subject to reason and involves worldly concerns, while the other involves faith and spiritual concerns. In the former, said Luther, man has a free will; in the latter he does not. Luther therefore spoke of a libertas in externis. There is such a thing as natural good, which reason can recognize and choose. But this in no way suggests a modification of the total judgment which says that before God man is a sinner and can be considered righteous only through God’s mercy, by faith in Christ. In like manner, the unfree will is something which completely determines man’s life and brings him into bondage under sin. It just isn’t so, as the scholastics maintained, that grace and free will work together for man’s salvation. Man’s salvation is the work of grace from first to last.
e. The doctrine of grace and predestination. Luther understood the concept of grace in its literal sense. To him it signified God’s favor or God’s love active on behalf of man’s salvation. Unlike the scholastics, he did not think of grace as an infused quality which elevates man’s natural goodness to a supernatural level and facilitates virtue. Man is sheer sin, and enmity towards God. Because of this, salvation is entirely a work of grace. It is not accomplished simply because some powers of grace are made available to man; it is God Himself who does it, working directly through His Spirit. In Luther’s theology, grace is not delineated above all against the background of man’s lack of supernatural good, but against the wrath of God, which condemns man because of sin. The only basis of salvation is the secret of the atonement revealed in the Gospel of Christ. The divine will of grace is combined with God’s almighty power and is therefore the only source of the faith which accepts the promises of God—as is the case with all of the good that is found in man.
The connection between grace and God’s omnipotence provided the basis for Luther’s concept of predestination, which was propounded at greatest length in his book De servo arbitrio. Man is not free and is totally unable to contribute to his own salvation; God, on the other hand, is He who works all in all, and with an unalterable necessity impels all that takes place, both good and evil. Did Luther say that God is the source of evil? Yes, as seen from one point of view He is, for nothing is done apart from His willing and without His active cooperation. He is the active and driving force in all things. But the fact that what takes place is evil does not depend on God but on the cooperation of sinful instruments. To illustrate this point, Luther referred to the case of a carpenter who had to work with a poor ax; the results were poor, even though he was a good carpenter. The most difficult problem arises when this idea of God’s omnipotence is associated with the doctrine of grace.
If the answer to the question of man’s salvation or damnation lies in God’s unchangeable power and decree, why does God not permit all men to be saved? Does not the blame for lost souls come to rest upon God Himself, who in His omnipotence permitted men to fall victim to damnation? Luther answered these difficult questions in the following manner:
One must distinguish between what holds true for the hidden God and that which God has revealed in His Word. That the omnipotent God impels and effects even that which is evil is characteristic of the hidden God (Deus absconditus). But the Gospel makes it clear, on the other hand, that God offers His grace to all and that God wants all men to be saved. We are called upon to hold fast to this revelation and not to brood arrogantly over the hidden and inscrutable divine majesty.
Condemnation befalls man as a just punishment for his sin and is therefore a consequence of God’s righteousness. But if salvation and damnation are completely in the hands of God, then the question is: Why doesn’t God alter the will of those who go lost? His question cannot be answered; the answer has not been revealed. Luther, in this context, distinguished between the light of nature, the light of grace, and the light of glory. There are things that can only be understood in the light of grace, as for example—why do the good suffer while the evil prosper? Such a question cannot be answered solely in the light of nature. By the same token, there are things that are not apparent in the light of faith or grace but will be understood in the light of glory. The mystery of predestination is included in this category. The fact that it is perfectly just for God to permit some people to suffer condemnation will be understandable only in eternity.
f. Luther’s doctrine of the call and his understanding of society. The word “call” itself (Beruf, vocatio) can be used to refer to the call of the Gospel to God’s kingdom, as well as to the work one does or the position one holds in our earthly society. It can also designate the factors involved in bringing a man into the office of the ministry, the preaching office. Luther’s doctrine of the call refers to the second of these three meanings. In fact, the German word Beruf, when used in this sense, is Luther’s own creation.
Call and creation go together. It is God, in His sustaining power, who places men in the various callings and positions. There is no difference of rank here, however; the purely secular callings are no less important in the sight of God. In Luther’s concept of the call there is a critique of the Roman teaching of the spiritual and secular estates. Those who presume that they are serving God better than others by entering a monastery do violence to God’s own order. Instead of serving their neighbors in a genuine calling, they avoid this service and choose their own form of worship. It is not the external form of one’s service which determines whether it is good or not; it is faith—which either does or does not precede one’s deeds. Because of this, even the humblest tasks are more pleasing to God than all self-chosen “good works”—provided only that they are carried out in faith and with a good conscience. One is not blessed by his works, that is to say, but by faith alone. What, then, is the purpose of the call?
The purpose of the call is to serve one’s neighbor. It is a part of this earthly life and is upheld by mutual service as its highest goal. In whatever position a man finds himself, he is to serve his neighbor. Thus it is that God’s commands are observed. Within the framework of his calling one finds a superfluity of good deeds to be done. But the call, as seen in this context, does not refer only to wage-earning activity; it is concerned with everything involved in one’s situation. A person is called not only to be a farmer or a craftsman or a ruler but also to be a father or mother, son or daughter, etc.
Man cooperates with God in his calling. There he is an instrument for God’s sustaining activity. When he fulfills that which belongs to his calling, he is doing something useful for his neighbor, and God thereby reveals His goodness and foresight. We receive good gifts through other men, who execute the tasks implicit in their calling. God works through us in the same way for our neighbors benefit, when we are faithful in our calling. The Christian need not, therefore, select special tasks for himself in order to increase God’s pleasure. He need only carry out those tasks which come to hand through the demands of his calling.
Luther’s concept of the call implies two things: (1) that the position and work which each man has is to be looked upon as a divine command, in which man is to seek God’s help and obey His will, and (2) that human society is to be shaped by mutual service, in which men serve each other and bring God’s gifts to their neighbors by fulfilling their various tasks.
Another consequence of Luther’s concept of creation is to be found in his doctrine of the two realms, the spiritual and the secular. God exercises His dominion over the human race in different ways: in part through the Word and the sacraments, in part through the authorities and the secular order. The gifts which are needed for man’s salvation are imparted in the spiritual realm, while the external order which is necessary for human society (and also for the existence of the church) is upheld through the secular realm.
This distinction must not be confused with modern ideas concerning church and state, in which the state is thought to stand outside the religious sphere, while the church represents the spiritual domain. According to Luther, God rules in both, in the spiritual as well as the secular. The latter is an expression of the ongoing creation, of God’s providential care. In some respects both realms are included in God’s Word, inasmuch as the secular authority is also constituted by God’s word and command. At the same time Luther drew a sharp line of demarcation between the two realms. The spiritual realm is without external power. Its power is exercised by God Himself through the Word and the preaching office. The secular realm is subject to human reason, and its authority is exercised by men who have the power to enforce laws, etc. It is God Himself who is active in both realms, and thus they are united. In the spiritual sphere God works through the Gospel to save men, and in the secular He works through the Law and impels men to live in a certain way, to do the good and avoid the evil, so that their neighbors can be ministered to and general chaos prevented.
Hence we can see that the spiritual realm does not represent a special sphere of power at the side of the secular. Neither is the latter a purely profane area, completely sundered from God. The secular authorities represent God’s own power, as it confronts man in visible form in our earthly relationships. Even a completely pagan authority can be used by God to work what is good, to uphold public order and promote human society.
In this connection it must be noted that Luther distinguished between Person and Amt. God works that which is good through the offices He has established. He impels office bearers to be anxious about the welfare of others, to serve for their benefit. God does this even though the office bearer is not himself a good man. It is true that evil men can misuse the established order and corrupt the secular realm, but God works through these orders in spite of this; He is independent of man’s evil. For even those who are evil can be forced, by the secular powers or by concern for their own good, to execute the tasks of their office and thus minister to their neighbor’s welfare.
On the basis of his doctrine of the two realms, Luther opposed both the medieval concept of the church as being superior to the state, and also the political concept of the enthusiasts, who looked upon the state as something foreign to faith and who conceived of man’s relation to God in purely spiritual terms (an “inner” experience without “external” implications). The Anabaptists and other representatives of the spiritualistic position were commonly referred to as Schwarmgeister, “enthusiasts.” One of their principles was that a Christian should not become involved in political activity.
Luther ordinarily divided human interdependence into three broad ranks, ecclesia, politia, and oeconomia, which correspond in general with the church, the state, and the home respectively. The two latter represent the secular realm, while the church represents the spiritual. The ranks correspond with the callings. One finds his position within one of these three ranks. They overlap, of course, so that one person might be involved in more than one rank (Stand), according to the varied relationships in which he finds himself. A man might at the same time be a father, a pastor, and a citizen.
Luther’s understanding of authority was based on Rom. 13:1: “Let every person be subject to the governing authorities. For there is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been instituted by God.” The Christian is thereby obligated to obey even those rulers who do not share his faith. The only exception is found in the words, “We must obey God rather than men” (Acts 5:29). If the authorities should command that which is contrary to God’s command or implies a denial of the Christian faith, the Christian must refuse to obey, and suffer instead the punishment meted out to him for the sake of his faith. But Luther did not approve of armed uprisings against the state. Insurrection is contrary to God’s order. Even if the cause is just, rebellion is nonetheless reprehensible, and one should rather take his stand with those who are hurt by the rebellion. No subject dare oppose the authorities in a violent manner. There is only one exception: the Wunderleute whom God expressly chooses to overturn a regime which is obviously tyrannical or incompetent.
As will be clear from what has been said, Luther’s concept of the calling was directed against the medieval monastic system and the distinction between the spiritual and secular estates expressed by this system. In his book De votis monasticis (1522) Luther carefully scrutinized and criticized the monkish vows. He came to the conclusion that they are contrary both to God’s Word and to reason. The idea that the monk’s way of life is superior to and more perfect than ordinary callings is contrary to God’s commands, which concern all Christians to the same degree.
Luther’s view of society can also be seen in the light of the position which he took vis-à-vis the “enthusiasts.” According to the latter, political activity is evil, and Christians ought not to get involved in it. On the contrary, they are called upon to manifest their opposition to earthly society. Even armed opposition was not foreign to this point of view. In the so-called Peasants’ War of 1525 a number of these enthusiasts (including Thomas Muenzer) took over the leadership. Luther on the other hand, who had earlier dissociated himself from this group and fought against it and its iconoclasm, violently attacked the peasants and finally urged the princes to use armed force to put down the uprising.
With respect to the exercise of secular power, Luther developed the conviction (especially in the book Whether Soldiers, Too, May Live in a State of Salvation, published in 1526) that the Christian can in good conscience serve the state by wielding the sword, for it represents God’s own order and is not established or contrived by man himself.
g. Luther’s concept of worship and the sacraments. In reforming the worship life of the church, Luther (as in so many other matters) had to fight on two fronts. He had to contend not only against Roman abuses on the one hand but also against the radical reforming zeal of the enthusiasts on the other.
Luther maintained that the worship life of the Roman Church deteriorated because of the neglect of the preaching of the Word, which had been replaced by the Mass. This misuse was further compounded by the fact that the Mass was looked upon as having an agreeable effect upon God, rather than being an occasion for fellowship around Word and Sacrament.
Luther intended to retain the continual reading of the Scriptures at daily worship services, but he also felt that the Word should be preached, which is to say, interpreted. “If God’s Word is not preached, it would be better if men neither sang nor read or came together,” said Luther in On the Arrangement of the Church Service in a Congregation (1523). The Lord’s Supper should be celebrated every Sunday, or when there are those who wish to receive it. But the daily private Mass of the clergy was abolished.
Current discussion of Luther’s concept of worship is, as a rule, dominated by his polemical writings on the subject, his utterances against the Roman Mass. But we must also emphasize the fact that the Reformation brought with it the reanimation of worship concepts of the New Testament and the early church. This is particularly obvious in Luther’s earlier presentations on the subject. In A Sermon Concerning the Most Holy Sacrament (1519) he pointed to the idea of community as the basic motive of worship. The worship service is the coming together of the congregation, in which a mutual exchange takes place between Christ and the congregation and among the Christians themselves. Our sins are laid on Christ, and His righteousness comes to us. In a similar way, we share the burdens and worries of our fellow Christians and pledge ourselves to bear the cross, at the same time that we receive help and support through our fellowship in the congregation.
It should also be noted that, in spite of all his criticisms of the sacrificial concept of the Mass, Luther by no means completely rejected the idea of sacrifice as having an essential place in the worship service. The mistake in the sacrificial concept of the Mass is that the perfect sacrifice which Christ offered once and for all has been made into a sacrifice continually offered by man. The belief is that in the Mass the priest makes the sacrifice in Christ’s stead. As a result the Lord’s Supper has come to be thought of as a human achievement and is involved in the works-righteousness context. This is in direct opposition to the meaning of the Lord’s Supper. For the Lord’s Supper is not a gift we present to God; it is a gift given to us by God, viz., the body and blood of Christ. Therefore it is not a sacrifice in the Roman sacramental sense of the term.
But at the same time the Lord’s Supper—and every other worship service—can be called a sacrifice, in so far as we there give ourselves to Christ, presenting our bodies as a living sacrifice (cf. Rom. 12:1). Furthermore, a worship service is a sacrifice of prayer and thanksgiving, given as our answer to God’s mercy and His gifts of grace. It can also be called a sacrifice in the sense that Christ, as our intercessor in heaven, offers Himself before God on our behalf. (A Treatise on the New Testament, 1520)
During Luther’s stay at the Wartburg in 1521–22 his supporters in Wittenberg sought, under the leadership of Karlstart, to carry out a radical purge of church ceremonies and all liturgical embellishments. The rationale for this action was provided by the so-called spiritualists or enthusiasts, whom we mentioned earlier. In addition to Karlstadt, Thomas Muenzer was the best known among the leaders of this group. They held that faith and the worship service should be purely spiritual in nature, that no external embellishments were required. It was this point of view which lay behind their iconoclasm and their rejection of all ceremonials. Everything “fleshly” was to be denied, and this included external, material things in general.
As Luther understood it, however, the fleshly is not the external in and of itself, but rather that which has been tainted by the flesh. Similarly, he felt that the spiritual is not the opposite of the external, but that which is permeated by the Spirit of God. If the Word of God is permitted to exert its effect, then ceremonies and pictures can also be consecrated to the edification of the congregation. The mistake made by the enthusiasts was that they thought they could achieve their purpose by demolishing pictures, while they set aside and ignored the Word.
The sacraments: In his book On the Babylonian Captivity of the Church (1520) Luther broke with the sacramental system of the Roman Church. Of the seven traditional sacraments, Luther designated only two as being genuine sacraments, Baptism and the Lord’s Supper. (At the beginning Luther also considered penance to be a sacrament.) Only these, in his estimation, are divinely instituted signs that accompany the divine promise of grace. The fundamental thing in a sacrament is the word of promise connected with the sign. Luther rejected the idea that the sacramental act is effective in itself (the ex opere operato concept). That which is effective in the sacraments (as elsewhere) is the divine Word, and not the human act as such. With this, the basis of the entire Roman sacramental cult, including its reserved Host, its Masses for the dead, and other private Masses, was set aside.
Baptism expresses the participation of the Christian in the death and resurrection of Christ. The Christian is to die daily to sin, so that the new man may arise. The essentials of Baptism are water and the Word, used together. At the same time that he rejected the scholastic (Thomistic) concept of an indwelling power in the water, Luther was also sharply critical of the enthusiasts, who disdained the external sign. It is not the water itself which has such a great effect, but the water connected with the Word. But since it is God Himself who instituted the sacramental sign, the external act is God’s work and not man’s. A baptism provided by an unworthy pastor is nevertheless valid. Neither is the effect of the sacrament dependent on the presence of faith in the one who is baptized. Those who receive Baptism without having faith need not be baptized again if they subsequently come to believe. As a result of this, Luther did not consider it an important question whether a baptized child can be said to have faith. He accepted the traditional answer, that the faith of the sponsors takes the place of the child’s faith, but on other occasions expressed the opinion that we must also presuppose faith in the child as the effect of the divine Word. In opposition to the enthusiasts (and Anabaptists) who insisted on adult Baptism, Luther took for granted, upheld, and justified infant Baptism on the ground that Christ’s salvation concerns little children as well.
Luther’s concept of the Lord’s Supper: In his book On the Babylonian Captivity of the Church Luther attacked the Roman Catholic doctrine of the Lord’s Supper on the three following points: (1) The failure to give the chalice to the laity. This is contrary to the institution of Christ and is based on certain untenable speculations about the whole being found in one of the elements. (2) The doctrine of transubstantiation, the idea that the bread and the wine are altered, that they lose their natural substance. This theory has no support in Scripture. There is no reason to suppose that the bread ceases to be what it is by nature, bread. (3) The sacrifice of the Mass, whereby the Mass is made into a human work and in part profaned to a simple racket (Geschäft). The Lord’s Supper is not a feat which men perform to make atonement with God.
Luther explained the meaning of the Lord’s Supper on the basis of the Biblical account of its institution. It is Christ’s testament to His disciples, in which His gift of grace, the forgiveness of sins, is granted. In Baptism the essentials are the water and the Word with which it is connected. In the Lord’s Supper, likewise, the essentials are the physical reception of the elements and the associated words of promise, “given and shed for you for the remission of sins.” The Lord’s Supper is a sacrament only because of the presence of the Word. Here St. Augustine’s statement applies: “The Word comes to the element and makes a sacrament” (Accedit verbum ad elementum et fit sacramentum). The magical implications of the doctrine of transubstantiation are thereby obviated.
Even though Luther rejected transubstantiation, he nevertheless held to the teaching of the Real Presence in the Sacrament of the Altar. The bread and wine are, in the power of the Word and the divine institution, the true body and blood of Christ, given under the form of the bread and wine. In previous years some of the nominalists, including Pierre d’Ailly, expressed ideas which Luther could accept (the so-called doctrine of consubstantiation). It was said, e.g., that it is actual bread and wine which is distributed in the Lord’s Supper, but that Christ’s body and blood are also given in, with, and under the external elements—as it appears in the simplest interpretation of the words of institution. How this happens is wholly incomprehensible to reason. Luther’s concept of the Real Presence was developed above all in the sacramental controversy of the 1520s. Luther’s opponents were in part the enthusiasts, led by Karlstadt, and in part Zwingli and his disciples Oecolampadius and Bucer.
In his writing Against the Heavenly Prophets (1525) Luther came out against Karlstadt and his concept of the Lord’s Supper. Later Zwingli entered the controversy and published his Amica exegesis, which was directed specifically at Luther (1527). A number of smaller treatises were exchanged, and then Luther, in his detailed presentation A Confession Concerning the Lords Supper (1528), gave his final answer to the onslaught of his opponents. In the following year Luther and Zwingli and a few other theologians met at Marburg and discussed this and other matters. It was hoped that an agreement with respect to the Lord’s Supper could be brought about and that the German and Swiss Reformers could thus be united. Many points on the Marburg agenda were agreed upon, but the question of the physical presence in the Lord’s Supper was passed over intentionally, since the participants were unable to agree on it. The dream of a “pan-Protestant union” thereby came to nought. The so-called Wittenberg Concord of 1536 served as the basis of an external unity for a brief period. This statement was dominated by the Lutheran point of view, which came to prevail in Germany.
Karlstadt and Zwingli represented the symbolical or spiritualistic concept of the Lord’s Supper. They said that the external elements are merely symbols of the heavenly, purely spiritual realities to which faith is directed. We cannot, therefore, speak of a material or physical presence but only of a symbolic act, in the performance of which the fellowship of faith with the heavenly Christ is the essential factor. Zwingli interpreted the est of the formula of institution as signify: “This signifies My body and blood.” Luther examined the exegetical support for this interpretation, and he asserted that the word est must retain its direct and simple meaning, even though reason is offended thereby. As the statement stands in Scripture, it indicates that the body and blood of Christ are present in the Sacrament not in a figurative manner but as a reality, in their essence. Luther had a somewhat higher opinion of the interpretation set forth by Oecolampadius. He said that the word “body” should be understood figuratively, and not the est. The words of institution were thus interpreted to say: “This is a symbol of My body” (figura corporis mei). But Luther rejected this also.
This was not simply an argument over words. The underlying points of view were diametrically opposed in their entirety. Zwingli proceeded on the basis of a fundamental dualism between the spiritual and the physical. Faith, he said, can only be directed toward Christ’s divine nature. It can therefore have nothing to do with the earthly elements or with Christ’s body and blood. He cited, in this connection, the words found in John 6:63: “The flesh is of no avail.” The important thing in the Lord’s Supper, therefore, is the participation of faith in the heavenly gifts, not the physical eating. Zwingli sought to express this in his symbolical interpretation, as indicated above. Furthermore, he spoke of the words “Christ’s body and blood” (in this context) as an alloeosis, i.e., a rhetorical figure which implies that what is said about Christ’s human nature properly refers to His divine nature.
Luther, on the other hand, most intimately combined the Word (to which faith is directed) and the external elements which are received in the Lord’s Supper. They belong together in the power of the words of institution. As a result, the Word and the physical eating are, taken together, the essentials of the Lord’s Supper. The presence of Christ is not conditioned by faith. Even the unbelievers who participate in the Lord’s Supper receive the sacramental gifts—not as a blessing, to be sure, but as judgment. It is by all means true that the forgiveness of sins comes only by faith, but the “eating” of Christ’s body and blood is not only done “spiritually” but in a physical way (oralis, with the mouth). At the same time, Christ’s body and blood in the Sacrament are not something physical but something spiritual. Luther thereby broke through the philosophical dualism between spirit and matter which lay behind the spiritualistic concept.
In opposition to Zwingli’s alloeosis, Luther came out in support of a genuine communicatio idiomatum. This means that the qualities of the divine and human natures are communicated from the one nature to the other and that they permeate one another on the basis of the unity of Christ’s person. The expression “Christ’s body and blood” has reference to Christ’s humanity. But on the basis of the unity which exists between His divine and human natures, the human nature shares in the qualities of the divine nature and must be most closely related thereto. Faith is therefore directed at Christ the man, and it receives His body and blood in the Lord’s Supper, which is, at the same time, the body and blood of the Son of God. This receiving takes place through the physical eating, and not simply as the result of faith’s communion in the spiritual sphere.
The idea of the communication of attributes sheds additional light on the question of the Real Presence. Luther sought to explain this idea (to the extent that it can be explained) by referring to the so-called doctrine of ubiquity: Christ is everywhere present as God. And His human nature shares in this quality. Because of this, Christ can be present also as man in the bread and wine given in the Sacrament of the Altar. The origins of this doctrine of ubiquity go back to nominalism, and subsequent Lutheran theology took up the idea of the ubiquity of Christ’s human nature, particularly in order to distinguish between its own concept of the Lord’s Supper and that of the Reformed tradition.
h. Luther’s doctrine of the church. In order to understand Luther’s concept of the church we ought rather to use the term “the Christian congregation,” since the word “church” as used in our day has a connotation which it did not have in Luther’s mind.
For Luther, the church (ecclesia) was first and foremost the fellowship of believers, which is defined in the Third Article of the creed as “the communion of saints.” It is a congregation of all on earth who have faith in Christ. This does not refer to an external association with institutions and offices but to an inner fellowship shared by all who have a common faith and a common hope. As such, the church is an object of faith. Luther’s strong emphasis on this spiritual, invisible fellowship as constitutive of the church was something new. The church to him was not the external institution embodied in the person of the pope, but a oneness of the faithful brought about by the Holy Spirit. This fellowship is invisible and independent of time and place. For no one can see who it is that has true faith, or know where this faith is found.
But one can also speak of the church in another sense. For it is also an external fellowship, a tangible assembly of persons who gather in a particular building, who belong to a certain parish or diocese, etc. In this sense the church has specific regulations, offices, services, and customs. All who have been baptized, all who have been reached by the preaching of the Word and who confess the Christian faith belong to this external Christendom. Here one cannot draw a line of demarcation between those who really believe and those who are hypocrites.
The first-named fellowship is referred to as the inner, spiritual church or Christendom, while the other is referred to as the external, physical Christendom. They are not to be separated. For the inner, spiritual fellowship is the essential element in the external congregation. It is for the sake of this spiritual fellowship that the congregation is held together. But just as it is wrong for the papists to identify the church with the tangible institution, so is it also wrong to abandon the external fellowship in order to found a congregation only for the saints (as the enthusiasts did). Faith must attach itself to the external signs (the sacraments) and to the external Word, and in like manner it must also seek for true Christian fellowship in the external congregation—insofar as the Word and sacraments are found there. In the interest of clarity one must distinguish between the inner and the external congregation or church, but in the concrete they must not be separated from one another; on the contrary, they must be as closely related as possible.
Luther’s concept of the church was clearly expressed in his critique of the papacy and its claims. He believed that the words spoken to Peter, “Upon this rock I will build My church” (Matt. 16), point not to the pope in Rome but to the faith which Peter confessed. At the Leipzig Debate (1519) Luther for the first time attacked the claim of the pope to be the head of Christendom. He asserted that the supports on which this claim was based were false, not only the above-named interpretation of Matt. 16:18 but also the canon law, which provided the basis of papal power. Luther himself made the discovery that the papacy was not nearly as ancient as was commonly believed.
It was customary to refer to the Old Testament description of the Aaronic priesthood as an anticipation of the Roman papacy. Luther repudiated this interpretation. The Old Testament priesthood was abolished in and with Christ. The Old Testament priesthood foreshadowed the coming of Christ, and it was fulfilled in Him.
What are the characteristics of the true church? Luther spoke of three: Baptism, the Lord’s Supper, and (above all) the proclamation of the Word. Where the Gospel is preached, there is the true church; and where the Gospel is lacking, so is the true church. The church has its life and being in the Word. The church consists of the fellowship of saints, but it is constituted by the Word and the sacraments. It is through these means that the Holy Spirit works and gathers the Christians of the world. As far as the papacy is concerned, Luther certainly did not feel that it could be juxtaposed with the church. But he recognized that the Gospel was available in the Church of Rome also, in spite of the misuse and neglect of the preaching office; so Christians could be found also there.
If the church is constituted by the Word, then what is the significance of the office of the ministry? Luther rejected the cleavage between clergy and laity, between the spiritual estate and the secular, which he found in the Church of Rome. Under the new covenant every Christian is a priest in the sense that he can come into the presence of God. This privilege comes to us through Baptism. But external order demands that certain persons should be chosen to administer the Word and sacraments. In other words, they carry out the priestly task on behalf of the congregation. This is not the only conceivable position to take, however. If it were consistently applied, it would imply that ordination is merely a call to a certain form of service. But there is evidence to show that Luther also thought of ordination as a real consecration to a lifelong divine mission.
In this context Luther distinguished between estate (Stand) and office (Amt). The Christian estate, which can be called, in a figurative sense, the priestly estate, is common to all Christians. Because of this, the distinction between the spiritual and secular estates must cease. But the office must be held by certain persons chosen for it, who discharge the responsibility of preaching the Word and administering the sacraments. For Luther there was only one office, the office of the Word or the preaching office. Bishops and teachers belong to this same office, even though they are called to perform other tasks. If the office is to be administered properly, it requires a public call. This comes from the authorities, who are men, and yet it is a call from God.
What we intend to do in this chapter is merely to provide a survey of the major facets of Luther’s theology, as seen against the background of previous and contemporary traditions.
Luther’s Development to the Diet of Worms, 1521
In modern Luther research many have shown partiality to “the theology of the young Luther.” This interest is based on the idea that the Reformation can be explained genetically by going back to the young Luther in order to see how his thinking developed. Furthermore, it is believed that significant parallels can be drawn between certain forms of modern theology and the young Luther and his earlier, relatively unknown world of thought. It ought to be remembered, however, that those who proceed on this basis look at the Reformer’s theology from points of view different from those he himself referred to in his more mature years. He himself was very critical of his earlier development and concluded that he was then in error in many respects and that he did not then clearly recognize the degree to which he was at variance with the scholastic tradition in which he had been educated.
But apart from this, it is certainly important for our understanding of Luther’s person and message to know something about his earlier development and the kind of education he received, for this forms the background for his appearance in public.
After preparatory schooling at Magdeburg and Eisenach, Martin Luther (1483–1546) enrolled in the year 1501 at the University of Erfurt, where he studied in the arts faculty and passed his master’s examinations on Jan. 7, 1505. Here he learned Aristotelian philosophy according to the via moderna, which is to say, in the nominalist tradition. Representatives of this school, which then dominated several German universities, stood in opposition to Thomism (via antiqua) and claimed that they understood and interpreted the philosophy of Aristotle in a more correct way. Later this was at times reflected in Luther’s polemics. He was known among his comrades as a “keen dialectician.”
After taking his master’s examination, Luther began to study law and at the same time to lecture in the arts faculty. But then the crisis occurred which in the summer of 1505 led him to decide to become a monk (the thunderstorm at Stotternheim, on July 2, 1505). Luther thus entered the cloister of the Augustinian eremites in Erfurt. After two years he was ordained as a priest (1507), and he studied theology in accordance with the study program of the cloister. During this time he became acquainted with the dogmatic position of the Occamists. Biel’s Collectorium and Peter d’Ailly’s and Occam’s sentence commentaries were included among the works he studied. In 1509, after lecturing for a year at Wittenberg on Aristotelian ethics, Luther himself became a so-called sententiarius, which gave him the right to lecture on the Sentences of Peter Lombard. The notes he made for these lectures have been preserved throughout the years. He also began to study Hebrew at this time, something quite unusual in those days.
In 1510 Luther was sent to Rome to attend to a matter which concerned a dispute in the Augustinian order, and he, like many other Rome-pilgrims of the time, was disappointed at the degeneracy there. After his return to Germany, Luther was forced to leave Erfurt and go to Wittenberg, where Elector Frederick the Wise had organized a small university in 1502 and where the vicar-general of Luther’s order, Johann von Staupitz, resided.
It was at the behest of Staupitz that Luther continued to devote himself to studying and preaching. In the following year (1512) Luther became doctor of theology and took a professorship, lectura in biblia, at the university.
At this time Luther was beset by anxiety, which could not be conquered even by an exaggerated use of the sacrament of penance. The Occamist doctrine of grace did not satisfy him. This doctrine stated that if a person did all he could, using his own powers (facere quod in se est), God would then also give him His grace. But how could one be sure that he had fulfilled all of the preliminaries? Occamist theology also calculated that man could, by his own natural powers, love God above all things. This prompted Luther to wonder whether or not he was one of the elect (predestination obsession).
In this situation Luther was helped to some extent by Staupitz, who was his confessor. Staupitz was a Thomist and a mystic, and therefore acted on the basis of a tradition different from Luther’s. He recommended, among other things, that Luther contemplate the crucified Christ rather than worry about his election, and thus see trials and tribulations as signs of God’s grace. On the strength of the new insights which Luther struggled to attain during this period, he acquired greater certainty and overcame his anxiety. Luther also later spoke of “temptations”—they occupy an important place in his theology. But in the question of their concrete background there is a difference between temptations during his time in the monastery and those he spoke of later on. The latter were more connected with difficulties in his life’s calling: the resistance and indifference of the people, the persecution and opposition from the pope and the enthusiasts, the realization that he alone was responsible for the upheavals of the Reformation, etc. During his time in the monastery, on the other hand, the question of predestination stood in the foreground. Luther’s temptations were also due to physical causes, but the assumption that his struggle in the monastery was a pathological depression is without valid foundation. This is proved, among other things, by his great capacity for work during this time.
From 1513 to 1517 Luther continued to work quietly—teaching, preaching, and disputing. During these years he lectured on the Psalms (1513–15), Romans (1515–16), Galatians (1516–17), and Hebrews (1517–18). Some of these lectures have been preserved, partly in notes taken by those who heard him and partly in Luther’s own notes.
These early writings prepared the way for Luther’s later appearance on a much larger stage and contributed to the mature Reformation point of view. With respect to the interpretation of Scripture, Luther here expressed the opinion that one can understand the Bible only from the vantage point of religious experience or, more properly, as a result of being practiced in faith.
Luther’s dependence on Augustine was very great. In his early years Luther as a general rule identified his position with Augustine’s. It was the latter’s teaching of sin and grace that Luther desired to uphold in opposition to the scholastic teaching of justification. This was also decisive as far as Luther’s relation to Occamism was concerned.
Many of the concepts derived from the nominalist tradition made a lasting impression on Luther’s thought. One can point, for example, to the distinction between theology and science, the critique of the habitus doctrine, or the idea of the absolute and well-ordered power of God (potentia Dei absoluta et ordinata). In the essential questions, however, one can see how radically Luther broke with Occamist theology. His polemical thrusts were directed early and often at this position. Occamism’s Pelagian doctrine of grace, and its blending of theology and philosophy were sharply attacked in a disputation against scholastic theology in 1517. Luther held that it was unreasonable to assert that man could of his own natural powers love God above all things and thereby prepare himself for the reception of grace. Rather, it is characteristic of natural man to love himself and the world and to be opposed to God. Grace precedes a good will, and to do good one must first be good. The Occamists spoke of a “logic of faith,” applicable even in questions involving the mysteries of faith, but in doing so they had to bring theological propositions before the bar of reason and mix together theology and philosophy. It had been said during the Middle Ages that no one could be a theologian without the help of Aristotle. But Luther said that no one could be a theologian unless he rejected the help of Aristotle.
Luther’s first appearances elicited small attention. But when he posted his Ninety-five Theses on Oct. 31, 1517, and thus took up arms against the flourishing misuse of the indulgence system, he aroused a storm which soon led to a complete break with the Church of Rome and its theology. A war of pamphlets ensued, involving among others Sylvester Prierias and Luther, and in 1518 the Roman curia, acting through Cardinal Cajetan, made a clumsy attempt to force Luther to recant (at Augsburg). A highly polemical debate between the Roman theologian Johann Eck and Luther, held in Leipzig in 1519, produced no great victory for either side.
As seen from the theological point of view, the disputation held when Luther visited in Heidelberg in 1518 was of greater significance. This debate not only touched upon the pertinent question of indulgences but also concerned the problems of sin and grace, of man’s inability to do good, of free will and faith. As the theses of 1517 had been directed against scholastic theology, the point of this disputation was directed against the theology and philosophy of Occamism. Luther also turned his back on the Occamist leaders at Erfurt. But as he did this, he won more and more respect from the younger generation. Wittenberg University flourished to such an extent during these years that it was soon able to compare itself with the greatest educational centers in all Germany.
A decisive event in Luther’s life was the discovery that the “righteousness of God” as referred to in Romans is not a righteousness that judges and demands, but the righteousness given by God in grace. Luther mentioned this discovery in the Foreword to his collected works (1545), and he associated it with the preparation of his second commentary on the Psalms, written in 1518–19. In interpreting the passage in Ps. 30 which says (in the Vulgate version) in tua justitia libera me, Luther went to the words in Rom. 1:17, “For in it [the Gospel] the righteousness of God is revealed through faith for faith, etc.,” and thereby achieved this insight after long deliberation. This discovery provided him with a key to the understanding of similar passages in the Bible, and he thus attained new clarity with respect to the point which became central in Reformation theology. The significance of this discovery (called das Turmerlebnis) has been the object of lively discussion in Luther research. If it happened at the same time as the Reformation breakthrough, it should most likely be assigned to an earlier year than Luther indicated, namely to the period 1511–14. Other scholars have tried to give another explanation while retaining Luther’s own dating.
Some of Luther’s most significant writings were published in the years 1519 and 1520. As evidence of his extraordinary productivity during these years one can point to the fact that in the second half of 1519 Luther published no less than 16 books. The 80-page (in the Weimar edition, 40) rejoinder directed against Sylvester Prierias was written in two days. Among other writings produced in these years were the minor Lectures on Galatians (1519); A Treatise on Good Works; and On the Liberty of a Christian (1520). In the same year appeared the Address to the Christian Nobility of the German Nation, with suggestions for reforms in education and in the church; also the controversial tract On the Babylonian Captivity of the Church, in which Luther made it clear that he had broken with the Roman concept of the sacraments, as well as with the monastic system. In so doing he also attacked some of the most important foundations of medieval culture.
A bull of excommunication was drawn up by degrees in Rome, in which Luther was accused of heresy on 41 points. These points did not touch upon the major aspects of his theology, however; for the most part they were of an inconsequential nature. The above-mentioned Dr. Eck and papal nuncio Jerome Aleander took the bull up to Germany to be made public. Among other things, the bull prescribed that Luther’s writings should be burned. Book burnings were organized in a number of places, but they did not awaken any great response. Luther responded by permitting an auto-da-fé to be held outside Wittenberg on Dec. 10, 1520, in which the canon law and certain other Romish books were burned. He also threw the papal bull into the fire on that occasion, an act which apparently went unnoticed for the most part at that time. What was more important in this event was Luther’s repudiation of canon law, which was symbolized by the burning of the same.
After negotiating at length, Elector Frederick of Saxony finally succeeded in bringing the Luther matter before the Reichstag, which met in Worms in April 1521, with Emperor Charles V in attendance. Standing before the assembled diet, Luther was called upon to recant. His famous answer, which he presented after a day of deliberation, made it clear that he could not recant unless he was convinced by Scripture or by right reason. The discussions which followed between Luther and the leading Catholic theologians present in Worms only served to show more clearly that it was impossible for Luther to accept the Roman Church and its theology.
Luther’s Theology in Relation to Occamism and Late Medieval Mysticism
We have already noted the decisive break between Luther and Occamism, which was that aspect of scholasticism to which Luther stood nearest. The criticism which led Luther to reject the Occamist doctrine of grace has also been mentioned. According to Occamism, grace was a new condition in man, a habitus infusus, imparted as a reward to those who did all they could to prepare themselves for the reception of grace. Luther, on the other hand, looked upon grace as the forgiveness of sin, which can be received only by those who are in themselves sinful and as nothing before God. To ascribe to man a natural ability to love God or to prepare himself for grace is to render the Gospel null and void, said Luther.
There are those, however, especially in Roman Catholic quarters, who have tried to show that Luther was essentially dependent on the Occamist tradition on certain other points of doctrine. It is asserted that this was true, for example, of the imputation concept, as well as with respect to the relationship between theology and philosophy. Even at these points, however, it is possible to observe a difference in kind between Occamism and Lutheranism in spite of a certain similarity of thought.
Occamism appended the following to the accepted doctrine of justification: God, in His potentia absoluta, can make a sinner righteous without reference to any habitual grace and independently of the existing order of salvation. Justification takes place only by imputation or by divine acceptance. When Luther said, correspondingly, that God “declares” a sinner to be righteous, or that justification has its sole basis in God’s free mercy, he was proceeding on an entirely different basis. Such acts do not presuppose a gratuitous disregard of sin or of the order of salvation; they rather do presuppose God’s order of salvation, whereby sinners are justified for Christ’s sake apart from all merit of their own. The basis of salvation is to be found not in arbitrary power exercised by God, but in Christ’s substitutionary suffering and in the perfect merit which He won. So in spite of certain external similarities, Luther’s concept of imputation was basically quite different from that of the nominalists.
With respect to the question of the relationship between theology and philosophy, nominalism destroyed the harmonious unity which was characteristic of high scholasticism. The truth of theology cannot be the object of “knowing” in the proper sense of the term, they maintained, inasmuch as it is not based on direct observation or rational axioms and therefore cannot be proved beyond all doubt. Theological knowledge presupposes revelation, and its certainty rests on external authority. In spite of this, however, Occamism assumed that there was a close relationship between the knowledge of faith and reason, and rational speculation was accepted without question as an aid in the interpretation ofthe articles of faith. As a result, theological knowledge was placed for all practical purposes on the same level as philosophical speculation.
In general, Luther agreed with the Occamist distinction between faith and reason, but at the same time he gave up on rational speculation and insisted that one could not judge or fathom revealed truth by the use of reason. The gulf between faith and reason as Luther understood it does not exist simply because the knowledge of faith is based on authority, but above all because reason has been blinded through the corruption of nature and as a result is unable to understand “what belongs to the Spirit of God.” Luther therefore concluded that nominalist speculation concerning the questions of faith represented an inappropriate blending of theology and philosophy. The distinction which Luther himself drew between faith and reason did not rest merely on the plane of epistemological theory; for him it was a matter which concerned the basic theological questions. This distinction was related in Luther’s theology to the purely theological contrast between flesh and Spirit and between Law and Gospel. As a result, there was no profound agreement between Luther and Occamism in this matter either. Rather, as seen on the theological level, there was the sharpest antithesis.
Luther’s relationship to late medieval mysticism has also been discussed at length by scholars in the field of Luther research. There were a number of clear points of contact here—more important, perhaps, than those which united Luther with the nominalists—but nevertheless, there were also profound differences with respect to the basic questions.
Mysticism represented a personal, experiential kind of religion, which was in opposition not only to the Christianity of the institutional church but also to scholastic education. The mystics insisted that philosophic wisdom was unprofitable and deceitful. Luther, in his opposition to scholasticism, could go along with such tendencies to a certain degree, at the same time that he made this kind of criticism much more profound.
Religious anthropology was another point of contact. The mystics spoke of the “old man” as the egocentric will in opposition to God, and of the “new man” as the will which is united with God. This contrast reminds us of Luther’s distinction between the old man and the new. Furthermore, the mystics strongly emphasized the significance of suffering and tribulation for the growth of the Christian. They also spoke of putting the egocentric will to death and of the contrast between the“inner” and the “outer” man. This has its parallels in Luther. He adopted the mystic point of view in many respects and gave expression to similar experiences concerning communion between God and man.
At the same time, however, the decisive difference between Luther and the mystics is to be found in the theological view of man. They did not agree about sin, for example. Luther taught the doctrine of original sin, while the mystics held to the idea that there is an indestructible divine nucleus in man’s innermost being. The mystic way is to turn away from all that is external, from all that belongs to the world. Even sin was looked upon at times as something external, something that does not touch the inner man. It amounts to this, that the world is looked upon as something unreal, immaterial, which the mystic must learn to disregard. But as Luther saw it, sin could not be ignored in such a manner, inasmuch as man is a sinner through and through. Man’s self-knowledge consists precisely in that he comes to know himself as a sinner. For the mystic the object is to enter his own innermost being and thereby to experience liberation; for Luther conversion is to experience God’s judgment upon oneself.
As can be seen from what has been said, Luther and the mystics also conceived of man’s union with God in different ways. According to the mystics, this union takes place within man’s soul, beyond sin and corruption. Luther also spoke of faith as a darkness in the soul of man, as something beyond all experience (or observation). But it is not an experience of the divine as something resident in our being, but an adherence to the external Word. Luther also believed that the fellowship between God and man is something real, but that it is a fellowship between God and sinful man. As seen from the human side, it is not absorption in the divine but a recognition of sin and a plea for grace.
Mysticism assumed so many different forms, however, that in comparing Luther with mysticism one cannot justly refer to the latter as an unambiguous quantity. Luther admitted that he thought very highly of the German mysticism which he found in Tauler and Theologia deutsch. He also appreciated the insights of Bernard of Clairvanx, although he was critical of some, while he categorically rejected the Platonic mysticism as presented in the writings of Dionysius the Areopagite (see above, pp. 147–48). In the sermons of Tauler, Luther found a concept of salvation which was free of the prevalent emphasis on merit and which conceived of Christian righteousness not only as “virtue” but as a supernatural participation in God’s own being, as God’s presence in the soul. In his critique of the scholastic concept of grace and merit, Luther therefore sensed a close kinship with this kind of mysticism, in spite of the distance between himself and the ideas that were typical of mysticism in general.
Major Aspects of Luther’s Theology
a. Understanding of Scripture. Luther’s theology is a theology of the Word. “So faith comes from what is heard, and what is heard comes by the preaching of Christ” (Rom. 10:17). These Pauline words were of basic significance to the Protestant Reformation. The divine Word, which creates faith, stands out at the same time as the foundation of theology. The authority of Scripture had certainly been emphasized before this—and not least of all in the Occamist tradition—but when Luther referred to Scripture as the divine Word, brought to man through the apostles and prophets, he spoke with a new conviction concerning the primary position and the inalienable authority of the Word. What was new about Luther’s attitude toward Scripture was chiefly his deeper insight into its content. Furthermore, Luther recognized that the authority of the Word was valid even where it was opposed by tradition; it is binding on the conscience. Finally, the principles of interpretation were also thoroughly transformed in Luther’s exposition of the Bible.
Christ is at the center of the Bible. “Scripture ought to be understood for Christ, not against Him; yes, if it does not refer to Him it is not true Scripture.” “Take Christ away from the Bible and what more do you find there?” Essential to understanding the Word is accepting the promises of the Gospel by faith. If this faith is lacking, the divine Word cannot be understood rightly. Luther thereby removed himself from a legalistic interpretation of the Bible, which finds in Scripture a collection of different doctrines and commands, and from a closely related “enthusiastic” concept which claims to possess the “inner Word” as a norm for the interpretation of the Bible. By clearly comprehending the fact that the message of the Gospel is the central facet of the content of Scripture, Luther possessed a certain freedom with respect to his view of the details of the Bible, a freedom which signified nothing else than that the central content (total context) of the Bible is the determining factor in the interpretation of the details. This was by no means a defiance of Scripture’s canonical authority. Luther’s position has sometimes been interpreted to mean this, but such conclusions are incorrect. Understanding in the deeper sense presupposes exactly what we mentioned—the obedience of faith before the external Word. Faith itself, therefore, is based on the unconditioned validity of the Word. Its authority is also justified by this, that we men, because of our weakness, must be bound to Scripture as an external, binding norm. “If the church is not to be destroyed, it is necessary for us to hold fast to the distinct commands and writings of the apostles.” According to another of Luther’s statements, the apostles are our infallible teachers by virtue of a special divine commission.
In our relationship to the Bible, therefore, both freedom and constraint hold sway. As seen from the point of view of faith as such, we are free with respect to the literal details. Faith is of primary importance in the interpretation of the Bible; this means that Scripture should be understood in the spirit of Christ and not legalistically. But as seen from the point of view of the conditions under which faith comes into being, we are bound to Scripture as an external authority.
Men have frequently pointed to Luther’s so-called critique of the canon (to certain statements made about James, among others) as an example of his freedom vis-à-vis the authority of Scripture. But this is misleading. As a matter of fact, Luther did not feel that the New Testament canon was absolutely fixed. He looked upon four of the last books of the New Testament (Hebrews, James, Jude, and Revelation) as apocryphal, or as writings whose apostolic authority was debatable. According to Luther, evangelical character and apostolic authenticity are above all important in the determination of canonicity. Thus, for example, what is said in the Epistle of James about faith and works is interpreted as an indication that the epistle is neither apostolic nor canonical. (In the Protestant tradition, it was not until the time of Gerhard that also the so-called antilegomena among the New Testament writings began to be recognized as truly canonical.)
In spite of certain similarities, there is a great contrast between Luther’s interpretation of the Bible and the modern, historical interpretation, but this contrast has frequently been overlooked. It is certainly true that Luther attached the greatest importance to what he called the literal or historical meaning of Scripture. But by this he did not mean a historical interpretation in the modern sense of the term; it was rather an understanding derived from within the context of faith. Luther believed, for example, that the Old Testament is a direct witness to Christ, and not simply that it contains some predictions about Him. The “history of religion” view of the Bible was unknown at that time.
Luther’s understanding of the Old Testament corresponded to the ideas he went on to develop with respect to the relationship between Law and Gospel. The Mosaic law, in the jurisdictional sense, was abolished through Christ. It was for the Jews what the Saxon laws were for the Germans and is therefore valid only for a certain people and in a limited time. The Law has, however, received a higher fulfillment than the external execution of the commandments. It points forward to the Gospel and is brought to its fulfillment only through the proclamation of righteousness by faith in Christ. The Law is therefore preserved, and as God’s commands, to which all men are bound, it is valid even in the era of the new covenant. At the same time, however, we can also see the Gospel in the Old Testament. Christ is there too, not only as the future Messiah, foretold in the Law and the Prophets, but also as the One who speaks directly in the Psalms and through the prophets.
The traditional medieval interpretation of the Bible held that Scripture has a fourfold meaning. It can be expounded literally, tropologically (i.e., with respect to the individual Christian), anagogically (i.e., with respect to eternity), and also allegorically, by which was meant that one could, for example, allow the Word to point to general realities in the world of faith or of the church.
Luther rejected this scheme. As far as he was concerned, Scripture has but one original and proper meaning, the grammatical or historical. He also recognized, as a matter of course, the figurative interpretation, which is to be found in the Bible itself, as for example in the parallels drawn between Christ and certain Old Testament figures (typology). Luther also spoke (especially in his early sermons) of a sensus spiritualis ormysticus, which points to a direct allegory. But this point of view was given a subordinate position. It lacked reliability, and it appeared in Luther’s sermons only as a traditional embellishment of the exposition of Scripture. In later years Luther forsook this kind of Bible interpretation more and more.
In Luther’s view of Scripture is the idea that the Bible can be understood from out of itself, each person acting as his own interpreter. The interpretations of tradition or of the clergy are not necessary for a right understanding of the Bible (as Roman Catholic theologians have said). The Word possesses in itself an “external clarity” which it conveys and administers through the office of the ministry (in ministerio verbi). It is for this reason as well that Scripture—without the addition of human commands and doctrinal opinions—is the sole foundation of faith.
The “external clarity” of the Word must be distinguished from the so-called “inner clarity,” which is the hearts understanding of the content of Scripture. This comes into being only through the Holy Spirit, who enlightens and instructs man internally. Luther also emphasized the significance of experience for the proper understanding of God’s Word. Training in faith, plus the experience which is given through the application of faith and through tribulation of faith and through tribulation of various kinds, is necessary for a genuine insight into the Word (the school of the Holy Spirit).
It is characteristic of Reformation theology that the Word is placed in the center of things not only as a source of insight into a supernatural reality but also as an effective, creative, and life-giving Word, through which God judges and raises up. Faith is related to the Word itself, not simply to a metaphysical reality behind the Word, and there it finds salvation. In this we can see a fundamental contrast between Reformation theology and scholastic theology.
b. Law and Gospel; evangelical penance. According to one of Luther’s well-known expressions, the proper division of Law and Gospel is the Christian’s highest art. One can with good reason refer to the dialectic which Luther had in mind here as being fundamental to his entire theology.
It is possible to receive the impression from the many relevant statements which have been made that Law and Gospel are two distinct orders and that in the life of the Christian the order of the Law ought to be replaced by the order of the Gospel. Luther, however, was very much opposed to this interpretation (as he made clear in his dispute with the antinomians, for example). For just as the Law never reaches fulfillment apart from the Gospel, so also must the Gospel be preached together with the Law; the Law serves as background. Apart from the Law, the meaning of the Gospel would be lost. How could one proclaim the forgiveness of sin apart from the Law, which reveals sin and accuses the conscience? For as the Law unmasks sin and condemns man, it also drives him to seek the help of Christ (cf. Rom. 3:20; Gal. 3:19, 24). Thus it is that Law and Gospel are closely linked together in this tangible manner; they mutually condition one another. Nevertheless it is necessary (as said) clearly to distinguish the one from the other.
The Law tells us what we are to do, under the threat of punishment. The Gospel, on the other hand, promises and provides the forgiveness of sin. Just as one must differentiate between the righteousness which is acceptable before men and that which is acceptable before God, so one must also distinguish between the preaching of the Law and that of the Gospel. One task of the Law is to compel men to act, to promote the good and prevent the evil. As such it therefore includes all public order and activity on the different levels of life. Luther called this the civil use of the Law (usus legis civilis). But when it comes to a man’s relation to God—his righteousness in a higher sense—the task of the Law is completely different. The Law cannot produce a single good work, and man is here referred to the Word of the Gospel, which offers him forgiveness of sin for the sake of Christ. In this context the function of the Law is simply to reveal sin and to make the threat of wrath real—the wrath under which man stands because of his sinful nature. Luther called this the theological or the spiritual use of the Law (usus theologicus seu spiritualis).
Law and Gospel characterize two kinds of preaching, which simultaneously exert their effect: the Law accuses and judges, while the Gospel awakens faith in the heart and thereby raises man up and re-creates him so that he can begin to love God and his neighbor—i.e., so that he can live in the frame of mind which the command of love demands.
It was obedience to Law and Gospel which produced the evangelical form of penance. In Luther’s theology this form gradually replaced the institutional system of penance developed during the Middle Ages, the misuse of which Luther attacked as early as in the Ninety-five Theses of 1517. Some of the major aspects of his critique of the Roman doctrine of penance will be apparent from what follows.
Repentance in the New Testament sense (μεταvοια) is not simply a temporary penitential act, as in the Roman Catholic system; it is rather a lifelong conversion accomplished by the death of the old man and by participation in Christ’s substitutionary satisfaction. This fundamental discovery, testified to already in the Ninety-five Theses (cf., e.g., Thesis 1), gradually brought with it a radical transformation of the entire doctrine of penance.
The proper kind of contrition is not that which is merely concerned about isolated offenses, but is rather to be found in the brokenheartedness which the Law brings about through the insight that all men stand under the curse of sin. As a result, contrition is not a meritorious activity but is a passive acceptance of the accusation of the Law, which presupposes faith in the judgment God’s Word pronounces over sinful men.
As a consequence of this, the confession of sin is something other than a recitation of all of one’s faults in the confessional, which is an impossible demand. But in addition to this, sin does not consist of isolated offenses; it is the corruption of one’s entire nature, which is not recognized until the Word of God is proclaimed. At the same time, however, Luther continued to emphasize the great usefulness of private confession. But he refused to believe that the granting of absolution is a priestly privilege. He looked upon it as a brotherly service which every Christian has the right to practice in an effort to strengthen and comfort the conscience of the penitent.
Forgiveness of sin is not dependent on the merit of contrition, and neither must it be made to depend on satisfaction; it is granted to the faithful exclusively for the sake of the mercy of Christ. The true “satisfaction” is to be found in the suffering and death of Christ, while the demand for making satisfaction is contrary to the meaning of the Gospel, as is also the indulgence system.
In this new interpretation, repentance can thus no longer be designated as a meritorious act. It is rather the fruit of the preaching of Law and Gospel. The judgment of wrath does its work through the Law, by accusing the conscience and by showing man that everything in him is sinful. The Word of forgiveness is proclaimed through the Gospel, which awakens faith in God’s mercy and grace and transforms man in such a way that he receives a new mind and turns his eyes from himself to that which Christ is and does. So understood, repentance involves the entire life of the Christian and denotes what happens when Law and Gospel exert their influence and justification by faith is brought about.
c. Doctrine of justification. According to Luther there are two kinds of righteousness, an external and an inner. The former consists of external deeds and is acquired through just conduct. This can also be called civic righteousness, for it concerns man as a member of society, or his conduct in relation to other men. His external life is judged to be either righteous or unrighteous.
Inner righteousness, on the other hand, consists of the purity and perfection of the heart. As such, it cannot be acquired through external deeds—no more than man can make himself to be God. For this righteousness is of God and comes only as a gift, by faith in Jesus Christ. This righteousness is judged not before men but before God. Because man is sinful, he cannot attain to this righteousness by himself. It contradicts all reason and goes beyond anything that can be comprehended or achieved by human effort. This righteousness is acquired through the suffering and death of Christ, and it is attributed to man by faith, quite apart from human merit or worth. God declares sinners to be righteous for the sake of Christ. Such justification is brought about when a man humbles himself before God, recognizes himself to be a sinner, and cries out for the mercy and grace of God. Such a man confesses that he is full of sin, lies, folly, incompetence, and perdition, while God is all that is good. In this faith, and with such prayers, man’s heart becomes one with the righteousness and virtue of God. Christ becomes his righteousness, his sanctification, his deliverance. This is the inner righteousness (justitia ab intra, ex fide, ex gratia) set forth in accordance with the words of Paul, “For we hold that a man is justified by faith apart from works of the Law.” (Rom. 3:28)
We also find, in the Reformation doctrine of justification by faith, that the concept of faith itself has been transformed. It is distinctly different from the parallel concept taught by scholastic theology.
In the scholastic tradition, men spoke of faith as something conceivable on the level of reason, which could be acquired through instruction and preaching (fides acquisita). This was distinguished from infused faith (fides infusa), which is a gift of grace and implies complete adherence to all revealed truth. Luther rejected this distinction: The faith which “comes by preaching” coincides with that which (according to Rom. 3:28) is justifying; it is wholly and completely a gift of God, a “truly infused faith” (fides vere infusa). It is not conceivable to the mind of man, and it signifies not only an intellectual adherence to the truths of faith but an actual fellowship with God, in which man places all of his trust in God and looks to Him as the source of all good (cf. the exposition of the First Commandment in the Large Catechism).
Justifying faith, in other words, is not only a historical knowledge of the content of the Gospel; it is the acceptance of the merits of Christ. Faith, therefore, is trust in God’s mercy for the sake of Christ. In this connection Luther coined the phrase fides apprehensiva Christi. The decisive thing is that the Gospel of Christ’s victory over sin and death is received as saving and life-giving truth. “The acquired faith as well as the infused faith of the sophists says of Christ, ‘I believe in the Son of God, who suffered and was awakened,’ and there it leaves off. But the true faith says, ‘I certainly believe in God’s Son, who suffered and was resurrected; I am sure that He did all of this for me, for my sins ….’ This ‘for me’ or ‘for us’—when it is embraced in faith—makes for a true faith; this is different from all other kinds of faith, which only hear of things that have happened” (WA 39 I, 44 ff.). As Luther understood it, faith is not only a mass of knowledge; it is a living power, “which makes Christ active in us, opposing death, sin, and the Law.” (Ibid.)
The Lutheran sola fide concept must also be understood in the light of what has been said. Also here Luther’s opposition to scholasticism lies in the background. In previous years men spoke, on the basis of Gal. 5:6, of a fides caritate formata (the Vulgate version) and gave the impression that faith was not alone sufficient for justification. Faith could please God only if it were associated with deeds of love.
Luther demonstrated that the Pauline passage quoted above refers not to justification but to the Christian life as a whole, which is definitely characterized by faith active in love. Justification itself, on the other hand, is solely the work of faith. It takes place not on the basis of human merit but only for the sake of the righteousness of Christ, which has been credited to us. And faith, as we have already said, is the acceptance of Christ’s substitutionary deeds as having been carried out for our sake. It makes man one with Christ, so that Christ “lives in his heart by faith.” Faith therefore is not an “unformed” function of the soul, which must be perfected by love. It is itself active, a life-giving power, which can only unceasingly do what is good.
In his description of faith Luther referred to the example of Abraham as this is given in Rom. 4: “Abraham believed God, and it was reckoned to him as righteousness.” In connection with this, it is customary to speak of an imputative justification as characteristic of Reformation theology. The righteousness which is here referred to is not an inherent quality in man. Man is declared to be righteous through God’s own decree. And this is done not on the basis of any quality or merit in man himself, but for the sake of Christ (propter Christum). Luther also put it this way, that no one but a sinner can be justified. And with that we come back to where we began: the righteousness under discussion here can only come to man as a gift, an aliena justitia, i.e., it is not our own but Christ’s righteousness, which is imputed to us by faith.
But this so-called imputation concept must not be interpreted to mean that it refers only to an external form of judgment. For it was precisely in this context (as we saw) that Luther spoke of an “inner righteousness.” The verdict which exonerates, which makes a man just, is God’s own living and creative Word, which provides the new birth and changes man entirely. Therefore there is no contradiction (as some have wanted to maintain) between the concept of imputation as the basis of justification and the idea of faith as a living, active power. For the Holy Spirit is given with faith, and He works that which is good and through love fulfills the Law.
Many misunderstandings have arisen concerning Luther’s doctrine of faith and works. For example, it is said that the Lutheran sola fide concept implies that good works have lost their rightful significance. A glance at Luther’s thinking on the subject would reveal, however, that such conclusions are not at all in agreement with his principles.
Faith and love are related to one another as are Law and Gospel, or as the divine and human natures in Christ. They can certainly be distinguished from one another, but they cannot be separated. The righteousness of faith refers to man in his relation to God (coram Deo). The righteousness of good works or love refers, on the other hand, to man in relation to his neighbor (coram hominibus). These must not be confused in such a way that man will seek to become just in the sight of God on the strength of his good works, nor in such a way that he will attempt to conceal sin with grace. Both would be signs of a false faith. From this it follows that faith and works can be sharply separated, even designated as incompatible opposites; but at the same time it is also true that they are very intimately related.
With respect to justification itself, good works must be as clearly distinguished from faith as possible. For this has to do with faith alone. As Luther expressed it, the Law must not be permitted to force its way up in the conscience. The man who has been crushed by the Law, and recognizes himself to be a sinner, can be raised up only by faith. He must look only to the cross of Christ, and not to the Law or to his own works, as though they could make satisfaction for his misdeeds. On this point, therefore, faith and works are mutually exclusive.
But when one looks upon the actual life of the Christian in its entirety, he can see that faith and works always go together. Faith cannot be apart from works; it constantly does what is good. As a result, we can speak of works in such a way that faith is presupposed by them and included within them. When the Bible, for example, refers to the works of the Law, the basic demand is for faith. For apart from faith no one can fulfill the Law or do what is good. Hence it is that the demand for works itself presupposes faith.
Similarly, one can speak of faith in such a way that good works are included in the very concept of faith. Faith is thus conceived of in a concrete sense, as faith incarnate in the works of love. But this does not mean that love forms faith, as the scholastics said; on the contrary, it is faith that forms love. That is to say, it is faith alone which makes our deeds good. To use another expression, faith is the divine nature of good works. With respect to justification, therefore, faith is spoken of in an abstract manner apart from all works and before all works. But when reference is made to the Christian life as a whole, faith and love belong together and could not be thought of as separate; for faith takes form in love, and love becomes what it is through faith.
d. Luther’s concept of man. Luther’s theological view of man corresponds with his doctrine of justification, but it is sharply at odds with the medieval view of man. It is often said that a “whole man” (totus homo) view of man was characteristic of Luther. Instead of the scholastic dualism between body and soul, higher and lower spiritual powers, Luther introduced a concept of wholeness into the theological context. The results of this can be seen in various facets of his theology.
Original sin, as Luther understood it, is not merely the lack of original Godlikeness; it is a real form of corruption, which has set its mark on the whole man. In concrete terms sin is not only concupiscentia—conceived of as a negative disposition of the lower powers of the soul—but an evil which effects man in his entirety, including (and indeed above all) the higher powers of the soul
According to Luther, unbelief is the basic sin, a turning away from God. The first sin, which included all others in itself, was a doubting of God’s Word and a deviation from the divine command (el. Gen. 3:1 ff.). In this alienation from God there is present at the same time an evil desire, a false intention, determined by self-love and pride, which has left an indelible mark on the will of man. Even the pious are not without sin—not even when they are at their best. The judgment which says that man is a sinner involves his entire person, such as he is before God. If man is judged only in his relationship to other men, and on the basis of his observable conduct, the import of original sin may not be apparent. The corruption of sin is congenital, transmitted from generation to generation by natural propagation, and is therefore present prior to all experience and all conscious expressions of the will. As a result, this concept of sin must not be confused with the use of the term in a moral or legal sense. Luther spoke of original sin as a hidden evil (malum absconditum), an inscrutable mystery, which in a secret manner determines the shape of human existence. One can grasp the fact that he is a sinner in the Biblical sense only in the light of the Word, and this reality can be kept in mind only in the knowledge of faith, in confession and prayer.
In some instances Luther’s concept of original sin has been interpreted as something which concerns only the God-man relationship, i.e., that it is a distorted relation to God. But this is not fair to Luther, for whom original sin meant a real corruption of human nature, involving both body and soul, or the entire man. The depths of this injury cannot be comprehended by man, inasmuch as we do not know what human life would be without sin. That it is a concrete form of corruption is also evident from this, that sin is assumed to be inherited along with our physical birth. “All that is born of father and mother is sin.” Original sin is not simply a condition of guilt, which is removed by Baptism; it is also a corruptio naturae, which does not cease to exert its influence until the body is destroyed in the grave.
What the totus homo view means, therefore, is that man is seen from the theological point of view in his relationship to God (coram Deo). And so he is perceived as completely determined by this relationship and not as a composite of various spiritual faculties and powers. The image of God in man (imago Dei, Gen. 1:26), or the original righteousness, does not consist of man’s talents and reason, nor of anything else which now characterizes him as man; it rather refers to man’s original perfection and holiness. In a corresponding way, original sin is not simply an inclination toward evil, attached to the lower spiritual powers (concupiscentia, fomes); it is the corruption of man in his entirety.
According to the scholastics, original sin is removed through Baptism. That which remains in the lives of the faithful was said to be merely a vestige of concupiscence, which was not considered to be sin—only a propensity to sin. Luther agreed that the guilt of original sin is certainly removed through Baptism, but the corrupting influence of original sin remains even in those who have been regenerated. The vestiges of sin are in themselves sin. Concupiscence is not merely a force which drives a man to sin; it is in itself sin. This concrete sinfulness gradually abates, however, in those who live under the dominion of the Holy Spirit. A conflict between the Spirit and the flesh begins as soon as a man begins to believe. The faithful are therefore both just and sinful at one and the same time (simul justus et peccator). This means, as Luther understood it, not only that sin abates and righteousness increases, but also that the man who has faith in Christ is—that is to say, is reckoned to be—completely righteous, at the same time that he, in his fleshly nature, is completely a sinner. Sin and righteousness are therefore perpetual attributes of the entire man. One is both an “old man” and a “new man” simultaneously. The same person is both “two whole men and one whole man” (duo toti homines et unus torus homo).
Free will: Luther’s ideas concerning man’s free will must be seen in the light of his doctrine of justification. As seen from another point of view, these ideas also give clear expression to his torus homo view of man.
In the famous controversial treatise De servo arbitrio, which he wrote against Erasmus in 1525, Luther argues as follows: With respect to that which concerns salvation or eternal blessedness, man is completely without a free will; it is entirely a divine quality, which can only be ascribed to God. As Erasmus understood it, man has the capacity to decide to accept or reject grace. Were this not the case, he maintained, the admonitions of Scripture would be meaningless. Luther asserted, on the other hand, that there was absolutely no support for this concept of a free will in Scripture, regardless of how many ecclesiastical authorities might be quoted. Such a free will simply does not exist. It is pure illusion. Salvation depends exclusively on the omnipotent divine will of grace. As far as Scriptural admonitions are concerned, they do not appeal to a free capacity for good; they are rather designed to reveal man’s lack of such capacity and, in so doing, his actual condition. This is the function of the Law.
As shown above, the idea of a meritum de congruo—natural man’s preparation for grace—grew apace during the Middle Ages. This was the tradition that Erasmus perpetuated, even though his own position can best be designated as rationalistic humanism, influenced by late medieval mysticism. In rejecting the Erasmian point of view, Luther turned against the entire psychologizing tendency which characterized the medieval ordo salutis and which implied that grace and merit were on the same level.
The merit concept, which was one of the fundamentals of the medieval tradition, was either rejected completely or transformed from the ground up in Reformation theology. If “merit” signifies a good deed, deserving of grace or blessedness in whole or in part, the idea is entirely foreign to Luther’s teaching of justification. The Scriptural idea of reward for good works was construed by Luther in a wholly different manner and was not related to the acquisition of salvation. Hence it was that the merit concept itself was altered in the Lutheran point of view.
The freedom of the will which Luther denied was defined by Erasmus as the capacity to associate oneself with that which leads to eternal blessedness or to turn away from it. This freedom refers, therefore, to the ability to do good in the spiritual sense, or the power to choose between good and evil. So if this freedom is denied, this does not involve determinism as it is commonly understood.
Luther drew a sharp line of demarcation between two kingdoms or dominions. The one is subject to reason and involves worldly concerns, while the other involves faith and spiritual concerns. In the former, said Luther, man has a free will; in the latter he does not. Luther therefore spoke of a libertas in externis. There is such a thing as natural good, which reason can recognize and choose. But this in no way suggests a modification of the total judgment which says that before God man is a sinner and can be considered righteous only through God’s mercy, by faith in Christ. In like manner, the unfree will is something which completely determines man’s life and brings him into bondage under sin. It just isn’t so, as the scholastics maintained, that grace and free will work together for man’s salvation. Man’s salvation is the work of grace from first to last.
e. The doctrine of grace and predestination. Luther understood the concept of grace in its literal sense. To him it signified God’s favor or God’s love active on behalf of man’s salvation. Unlike the scholastics, he did not think of grace as an infused quality which elevates man’s natural goodness to a supernatural level and facilitates virtue. Man is sheer sin, and enmity towards God. Because of this, salvation is entirely a work of grace. It is not accomplished simply because some powers of grace are made available to man; it is God Himself who does it, working directly through His Spirit. In Luther’s theology, grace is not delineated above all against the background of man’s lack of supernatural good, but against the wrath of God, which condemns man because of sin. The only basis of salvation is the secret of the atonement revealed in the Gospel of Christ. The divine will of grace is combined with God’s almighty power and is therefore the only source of the faith which accepts the promises of God—as is the case with all of the good that is found in man.
The connection between grace and God’s omnipotence provided the basis for Luther’s concept of predestination, which was propounded at greatest length in his book De servo arbitrio. Man is not free and is totally unable to contribute to his own salvation; God, on the other hand, is He who works all in all, and with an unalterable necessity impels all that takes place, both good and evil. Did Luther say that God is the source of evil? Yes, as seen from one point of view He is, for nothing is done apart from His willing and without His active cooperation. He is the active and driving force in all things. But the fact that what takes place is evil does not depend on God but on the cooperation of sinful instruments. To illustrate this point, Luther referred to the case of a carpenter who had to work with a poor ax; the results were poor, even though he was a good carpenter. The most difficult problem arises when this idea of God’s omnipotence is associated with the doctrine of grace.
If the answer to the question of man’s salvation or damnation lies in God’s unchangeable power and decree, why does God not permit all men to be saved? Does not the blame for lost souls come to rest upon God Himself, who in His omnipotence permitted men to fall victim to damnation? Luther answered these difficult questions in the following manner:
One must distinguish between what holds true for the hidden God and that which God has revealed in His Word. That the omnipotent God impels and effects even that which is evil is characteristic of the hidden God (Deus absconditus). But the Gospel makes it clear, on the other hand, that God offers His grace to all and that God wants all men to be saved. We are called upon to hold fast to this revelation and not to brood arrogantly over the hidden and inscrutable divine majesty.
Condemnation befalls man as a just punishment for his sin and is therefore a consequence of God’s righteousness. But if salvation and damnation are completely in the hands of God, then the question is: Why doesn’t God alter the will of those who go lost? His question cannot be answered; the answer has not been revealed. Luther, in this context, distinguished between the light of nature, the light of grace, and the light of glory. There are things that can only be understood in the light of grace, as for example—why do the good suffer while the evil prosper? Such a question cannot be answered solely in the light of nature. By the same token, there are things that are not apparent in the light of faith or grace but will be understood in the light of glory. The mystery of predestination is included in this category. The fact that it is perfectly just for God to permit some people to suffer condemnation will be understandable only in eternity.
f. Luther’s doctrine of the call and his understanding of society. The word “call” itself (Beruf, vocatio) can be used to refer to the call of the Gospel to God’s kingdom, as well as to the work one does or the position one holds in our earthly society. It can also designate the factors involved in bringing a man into the office of the ministry, the preaching office. Luther’s doctrine of the call refers to the second of these three meanings. In fact, the German word Beruf, when used in this sense, is Luther’s own creation.
Call and creation go together. It is God, in His sustaining power, who places men in the various callings and positions. There is no difference of rank here, however; the purely secular callings are no less important in the sight of God. In Luther’s concept of the call there is a critique of the Roman teaching of the spiritual and secular estates. Those who presume that they are serving God better than others by entering a monastery do violence to God’s own order. Instead of serving their neighbors in a genuine calling, they avoid this service and choose their own form of worship. It is not the external form of one’s service which determines whether it is good or not; it is faith—which either does or does not precede one’s deeds. Because of this, even the humblest tasks are more pleasing to God than all self-chosen “good works”—provided only that they are carried out in faith and with a good conscience. One is not blessed by his works, that is to say, but by faith alone. What, then, is the purpose of the call?
The purpose of the call is to serve one’s neighbor. It is a part of this earthly life and is upheld by mutual service as its highest goal. In whatever position a man finds himself, he is to serve his neighbor. Thus it is that God’s commands are observed. Within the framework of his calling one finds a superfluity of good deeds to be done. But the call, as seen in this context, does not refer only to wage-earning activity; it is concerned with everything involved in one’s situation. A person is called not only to be a farmer or a craftsman or a ruler but also to be a father or mother, son or daughter, etc.
Man cooperates with God in his calling. There he is an instrument for God’s sustaining activity. When he fulfills that which belongs to his calling, he is doing something useful for his neighbor, and God thereby reveals His goodness and foresight. We receive good gifts through other men, who execute the tasks implicit in their calling. God works through us in the same way for our neighbors benefit, when we are faithful in our calling. The Christian need not, therefore, select special tasks for himself in order to increase God’s pleasure. He need only carry out those tasks which come to hand through the demands of his calling.
Luther’s concept of the call implies two things: (1) that the position and work which each man has is to be looked upon as a divine command, in which man is to seek God’s help and obey His will, and (2) that human society is to be shaped by mutual service, in which men serve each other and bring God’s gifts to their neighbors by fulfilling their various tasks.
Another consequence of Luther’s concept of creation is to be found in his doctrine of the two realms, the spiritual and the secular. God exercises His dominion over the human race in different ways: in part through the Word and the sacraments, in part through the authorities and the secular order. The gifts which are needed for man’s salvation are imparted in the spiritual realm, while the external order which is necessary for human society (and also for the existence of the church) is upheld through the secular realm.
This distinction must not be confused with modern ideas concerning church and state, in which the state is thought to stand outside the religious sphere, while the church represents the spiritual domain. According to Luther, God rules in both, in the spiritual as well as the secular. The latter is an expression of the ongoing creation, of God’s providential care. In some respects both realms are included in God’s Word, inasmuch as the secular authority is also constituted by God’s word and command. At the same time Luther drew a sharp line of demarcation between the two realms. The spiritual realm is without external power. Its power is exercised by God Himself through the Word and the preaching office. The secular realm is subject to human reason, and its authority is exercised by men who have the power to enforce laws, etc. It is God Himself who is active in both realms, and thus they are united. In the spiritual sphere God works through the Gospel to save men, and in the secular He works through the Law and impels men to live in a certain way, to do the good and avoid the evil, so that their neighbors can be ministered to and general chaos prevented.
Hence we can see that the spiritual realm does not represent a special sphere of power at the side of the secular. Neither is the latter a purely profane area, completely sundered from God. The secular authorities represent God’s own power, as it confronts man in visible form in our earthly relationships. Even a completely pagan authority can be used by God to work what is good, to uphold public order and promote human society.
In this connection it must be noted that Luther distinguished between Person and Amt. God works that which is good through the offices He has established. He impels office bearers to be anxious about the welfare of others, to serve for their benefit. God does this even though the office bearer is not himself a good man. It is true that evil men can misuse the established order and corrupt the secular realm, but God works through these orders in spite of this; He is independent of man’s evil. For even those who are evil can be forced, by the secular powers or by concern for their own good, to execute the tasks of their office and thus minister to their neighbor’s welfare.
On the basis of his doctrine of the two realms, Luther opposed both the medieval concept of the church as being superior to the state, and also the political concept of the enthusiasts, who looked upon the state as something foreign to faith and who conceived of man’s relation to God in purely spiritual terms (an “inner” experience without “external” implications). The Anabaptists and other representatives of the spiritualistic position were commonly referred to as Schwarmgeister, “enthusiasts.” One of their principles was that a Christian should not become involved in political activity.
Luther ordinarily divided human interdependence into three broad ranks, ecclesia, politia, and oeconomia, which correspond in general with the church, the state, and the home respectively. The two latter represent the secular realm, while the church represents the spiritual. The ranks correspond with the callings. One finds his position within one of these three ranks. They overlap, of course, so that one person might be involved in more than one rank (Stand), according to the varied relationships in which he finds himself. A man might at the same time be a father, a pastor, and a citizen.
Luther’s understanding of authority was based on Rom. 13:1: “Let every person be subject to the governing authorities. For there is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been instituted by God.” The Christian is thereby obligated to obey even those rulers who do not share his faith. The only exception is found in the words, “We must obey God rather than men” (Acts 5:29). If the authorities should command that which is contrary to God’s command or implies a denial of the Christian faith, the Christian must refuse to obey, and suffer instead the punishment meted out to him for the sake of his faith. But Luther did not approve of armed uprisings against the state. Insurrection is contrary to God’s order. Even if the cause is just, rebellion is nonetheless reprehensible, and one should rather take his stand with those who are hurt by the rebellion. No subject dare oppose the authorities in a violent manner. There is only one exception: the Wunderleute whom God expressly chooses to overturn a regime which is obviously tyrannical or incompetent.
As will be clear from what has been said, Luther’s concept of the calling was directed against the medieval monastic system and the distinction between the spiritual and secular estates expressed by this system. In his book De votis monasticis (1522) Luther carefully scrutinized and criticized the monkish vows. He came to the conclusion that they are contrary both to God’s Word and to reason. The idea that the monk’s way of life is superior to and more perfect than ordinary callings is contrary to God’s commands, which concern all Christians to the same degree.
Luther’s view of society can also be seen in the light of the position which he took vis-à-vis the “enthusiasts.” According to the latter, political activity is evil, and Christians ought not to get involved in it. On the contrary, they are called upon to manifest their opposition to earthly society. Even armed opposition was not foreign to this point of view. In the so-called Peasants’ War of 1525 a number of these enthusiasts (including Thomas Muenzer) took over the leadership. Luther on the other hand, who had earlier dissociated himself from this group and fought against it and its iconoclasm, violently attacked the peasants and finally urged the princes to use armed force to put down the uprising.
With respect to the exercise of secular power, Luther developed the conviction (especially in the book Whether Soldiers, Too, May Live in a State of Salvation, published in 1526) that the Christian can in good conscience serve the state by wielding the sword, for it represents God’s own order and is not established or contrived by man himself.
g. Luther’s concept of worship and the sacraments. In reforming the worship life of the church, Luther (as in so many other matters) had to fight on two fronts. He had to contend not only against Roman abuses on the one hand but also against the radical reforming zeal of the enthusiasts on the other.
Luther maintained that the worship life of the Roman Church deteriorated because of the neglect of the preaching of the Word, which had been replaced by the Mass. This misuse was further compounded by the fact that the Mass was looked upon as having an agreeable effect upon God, rather than being an occasion for fellowship around Word and Sacrament.
Luther intended to retain the continual reading of the Scriptures at daily worship services, but he also felt that the Word should be preached, which is to say, interpreted. “If God’s Word is not preached, it would be better if men neither sang nor read or came together,” said Luther in On the Arrangement of the Church Service in a Congregation (1523). The Lord’s Supper should be celebrated every Sunday, or when there are those who wish to receive it. But the daily private Mass of the clergy was abolished.
Current discussion of Luther’s concept of worship is, as a rule, dominated by his polemical writings on the subject, his utterances against the Roman Mass. But we must also emphasize the fact that the Reformation brought with it the reanimation of worship concepts of the New Testament and the early church. This is particularly obvious in Luther’s earlier presentations on the subject. In A Sermon Concerning the Most Holy Sacrament (1519) he pointed to the idea of community as the basic motive of worship. The worship service is the coming together of the congregation, in which a mutual exchange takes place between Christ and the congregation and among the Christians themselves. Our sins are laid on Christ, and His righteousness comes to us. In a similar way, we share the burdens and worries of our fellow Christians and pledge ourselves to bear the cross, at the same time that we receive help and support through our fellowship in the congregation.
It should also be noted that, in spite of all his criticisms of the sacrificial concept of the Mass, Luther by no means completely rejected the idea of sacrifice as having an essential place in the worship service. The mistake in the sacrificial concept of the Mass is that the perfect sacrifice which Christ offered once and for all has been made into a sacrifice continually offered by man. The belief is that in the Mass the priest makes the sacrifice in Christ’s stead. As a result the Lord’s Supper has come to be thought of as a human achievement and is involved in the works-righteousness context. This is in direct opposition to the meaning of the Lord’s Supper. For the Lord’s Supper is not a gift we present to God; it is a gift given to us by God, viz., the body and blood of Christ. Therefore it is not a sacrifice in the Roman sacramental sense of the term.
But at the same time the Lord’s Supper—and every other worship service—can be called a sacrifice, in so far as we there give ourselves to Christ, presenting our bodies as a living sacrifice (cf. Rom. 12:1). Furthermore, a worship service is a sacrifice of prayer and thanksgiving, given as our answer to God’s mercy and His gifts of grace. It can also be called a sacrifice in the sense that Christ, as our intercessor in heaven, offers Himself before God on our behalf. (A Treatise on the New Testament, 1520)
During Luther’s stay at the Wartburg in 1521–22 his supporters in Wittenberg sought, under the leadership of Karlstart, to carry out a radical purge of church ceremonies and all liturgical embellishments. The rationale for this action was provided by the so-called spiritualists or enthusiasts, whom we mentioned earlier. In addition to Karlstadt, Thomas Muenzer was the best known among the leaders of this group. They held that faith and the worship service should be purely spiritual in nature, that no external embellishments were required. It was this point of view which lay behind their iconoclasm and their rejection of all ceremonials. Everything “fleshly” was to be denied, and this included external, material things in general.
As Luther understood it, however, the fleshly is not the external in and of itself, but rather that which has been tainted by the flesh. Similarly, he felt that the spiritual is not the opposite of the external, but that which is permeated by the Spirit of God. If the Word of God is permitted to exert its effect, then ceremonies and pictures can also be consecrated to the edification of the congregation. The mistake made by the enthusiasts was that they thought they could achieve their purpose by demolishing pictures, while they set aside and ignored the Word.
The sacraments: In his book On the Babylonian Captivity of the Church (1520) Luther broke with the sacramental system of the Roman Church. Of the seven traditional sacraments, Luther designated only two as being genuine sacraments, Baptism and the Lord’s Supper. (At the beginning Luther also considered penance to be a sacrament.) Only these, in his estimation, are divinely instituted signs that accompany the divine promise of grace. The fundamental thing in a sacrament is the word of promise connected with the sign. Luther rejected the idea that the sacramental act is effective in itself (the ex opere operato concept). That which is effective in the sacraments (as elsewhere) is the divine Word, and not the human act as such. With this, the basis of the entire Roman sacramental cult, including its reserved Host, its Masses for the dead, and other private Masses, was set aside.
Baptism expresses the participation of the Christian in the death and resurrection of Christ. The Christian is to die daily to sin, so that the new man may arise. The essentials of Baptism are water and the Word, used together. At the same time that he rejected the scholastic (Thomistic) concept of an indwelling power in the water, Luther was also sharply critical of the enthusiasts, who disdained the external sign. It is not the water itself which has such a great effect, but the water connected with the Word. But since it is God Himself who instituted the sacramental sign, the external act is God’s work and not man’s. A baptism provided by an unworthy pastor is nevertheless valid. Neither is the effect of the sacrament dependent on the presence of faith in the one who is baptized. Those who receive Baptism without having faith need not be baptized again if they subsequently come to believe. As a result of this, Luther did not consider it an important question whether a baptized child can be said to have faith. He accepted the traditional answer, that the faith of the sponsors takes the place of the child’s faith, but on other occasions expressed the opinion that we must also presuppose faith in the child as the effect of the divine Word. In opposition to the enthusiasts (and Anabaptists) who insisted on adult Baptism, Luther took for granted, upheld, and justified infant Baptism on the ground that Christ’s salvation concerns little children as well.
Luther’s concept of the Lord’s Supper: In his book On the Babylonian Captivity of the Church Luther attacked the Roman Catholic doctrine of the Lord’s Supper on the three following points: (1) The failure to give the chalice to the laity. This is contrary to the institution of Christ and is based on certain untenable speculations about the whole being found in one of the elements. (2) The doctrine of transubstantiation, the idea that the bread and the wine are altered, that they lose their natural substance. This theory has no support in Scripture. There is no reason to suppose that the bread ceases to be what it is by nature, bread. (3) The sacrifice of the Mass, whereby the Mass is made into a human work and in part profaned to a simple racket (Geschäft). The Lord’s Supper is not a feat which men perform to make atonement with God.
Luther explained the meaning of the Lord’s Supper on the basis of the Biblical account of its institution. It is Christ’s testament to His disciples, in which His gift of grace, the forgiveness of sins, is granted. In Baptism the essentials are the water and the Word with which it is connected. In the Lord’s Supper, likewise, the essentials are the physical reception of the elements and the associated words of promise, “given and shed for you for the remission of sins.” The Lord’s Supper is a sacrament only because of the presence of the Word. Here St. Augustine’s statement applies: “The Word comes to the element and makes a sacrament” (Accedit verbum ad elementum et fit sacramentum). The magical implications of the doctrine of transubstantiation are thereby obviated.
Even though Luther rejected transubstantiation, he nevertheless held to the teaching of the Real Presence in the Sacrament of the Altar. The bread and wine are, in the power of the Word and the divine institution, the true body and blood of Christ, given under the form of the bread and wine. In previous years some of the nominalists, including Pierre d’Ailly, expressed ideas which Luther could accept (the so-called doctrine of consubstantiation). It was said, e.g., that it is actual bread and wine which is distributed in the Lord’s Supper, but that Christ’s body and blood are also given in, with, and under the external elements—as it appears in the simplest interpretation of the words of institution. How this happens is wholly incomprehensible to reason. Luther’s concept of the Real Presence was developed above all in the sacramental controversy of the 1520s. Luther’s opponents were in part the enthusiasts, led by Karlstadt, and in part Zwingli and his disciples Oecolampadius and Bucer.
In his writing Against the Heavenly Prophets (1525) Luther came out against Karlstadt and his concept of the Lord’s Supper. Later Zwingli entered the controversy and published his Amica exegesis, which was directed specifically at Luther (1527). A number of smaller treatises were exchanged, and then Luther, in his detailed presentation A Confession Concerning the Lords Supper (1528), gave his final answer to the onslaught of his opponents. In the following year Luther and Zwingli and a few other theologians met at Marburg and discussed this and other matters. It was hoped that an agreement with respect to the Lord’s Supper could be brought about and that the German and Swiss Reformers could thus be united. Many points on the Marburg agenda were agreed upon, but the question of the physical presence in the Lord’s Supper was passed over intentionally, since the participants were unable to agree on it. The dream of a “pan-Protestant union” thereby came to nought. The so-called Wittenberg Concord of 1536 served as the basis of an external unity for a brief period. This statement was dominated by the Lutheran point of view, which came to prevail in Germany.
Karlstadt and Zwingli represented the symbolical or spiritualistic concept of the Lord’s Supper. They said that the external elements are merely symbols of the heavenly, purely spiritual realities to which faith is directed. We cannot, therefore, speak of a material or physical presence but only of a symbolic act, in the performance of which the fellowship of faith with the heavenly Christ is the essential factor. Zwingli interpreted the est of the formula of institution as signify: “This signifies My body and blood.” Luther examined the exegetical support for this interpretation, and he asserted that the word est must retain its direct and simple meaning, even though reason is offended thereby. As the statement stands in Scripture, it indicates that the body and blood of Christ are present in the Sacrament not in a figurative manner but as a reality, in their essence. Luther had a somewhat higher opinion of the interpretation set forth by Oecolampadius. He said that the word “body” should be understood figuratively, and not the est. The words of institution were thus interpreted to say: “This is a symbol of My body” (figura corporis mei). But Luther rejected this also.
This was not simply an argument over words. The underlying points of view were diametrically opposed in their entirety. Zwingli proceeded on the basis of a fundamental dualism between the spiritual and the physical. Faith, he said, can only be directed toward Christ’s divine nature. It can therefore have nothing to do with the earthly elements or with Christ’s body and blood. He cited, in this connection, the words found in John 6:63: “The flesh is of no avail.” The important thing in the Lord’s Supper, therefore, is the participation of faith in the heavenly gifts, not the physical eating. Zwingli sought to express this in his symbolical interpretation, as indicated above. Furthermore, he spoke of the words “Christ’s body and blood” (in this context) as an alloeosis, i.e., a rhetorical figure which implies that what is said about Christ’s human nature properly refers to His divine nature.
Luther, on the other hand, most intimately combined the Word (to which faith is directed) and the external elements which are received in the Lord’s Supper. They belong together in the power of the words of institution. As a result, the Word and the physical eating are, taken together, the essentials of the Lord’s Supper. The presence of Christ is not conditioned by faith. Even the unbelievers who participate in the Lord’s Supper receive the sacramental gifts—not as a blessing, to be sure, but as judgment. It is by all means true that the forgiveness of sins comes only by faith, but the “eating” of Christ’s body and blood is not only done “spiritually” but in a physical way (oralis, with the mouth). At the same time, Christ’s body and blood in the Sacrament are not something physical but something spiritual. Luther thereby broke through the philosophical dualism between spirit and matter which lay behind the spiritualistic concept.
In opposition to Zwingli’s alloeosis, Luther came out in support of a genuine communicatio idiomatum. This means that the qualities of the divine and human natures are communicated from the one nature to the other and that they permeate one another on the basis of the unity of Christ’s person. The expression “Christ’s body and blood” has reference to Christ’s humanity. But on the basis of the unity which exists between His divine and human natures, the human nature shares in the qualities of the divine nature and must be most closely related thereto. Faith is therefore directed at Christ the man, and it receives His body and blood in the Lord’s Supper, which is, at the same time, the body and blood of the Son of God. This receiving takes place through the physical eating, and not simply as the result of faith’s communion in the spiritual sphere.
The idea of the communication of attributes sheds additional light on the question of the Real Presence. Luther sought to explain this idea (to the extent that it can be explained) by referring to the so-called doctrine of ubiquity: Christ is everywhere present as God. And His human nature shares in this quality. Because of this, Christ can be present also as man in the bread and wine given in the Sacrament of the Altar. The origins of this doctrine of ubiquity go back to nominalism, and subsequent Lutheran theology took up the idea of the ubiquity of Christ’s human nature, particularly in order to distinguish between its own concept of the Lord’s Supper and that of the Reformed tradition.
h. Luther’s doctrine of the church. In order to understand Luther’s concept of the church we ought rather to use the term “the Christian congregation,” since the word “church” as used in our day has a connotation which it did not have in Luther’s mind.
For Luther, the church (ecclesia) was first and foremost the fellowship of believers, which is defined in the Third Article of the creed as “the communion of saints.” It is a congregation of all on earth who have faith in Christ. This does not refer to an external association with institutions and offices but to an inner fellowship shared by all who have a common faith and a common hope. As such, the church is an object of faith. Luther’s strong emphasis on this spiritual, invisible fellowship as constitutive of the church was something new. The church to him was not the external institution embodied in the person of the pope, but a oneness of the faithful brought about by the Holy Spirit. This fellowship is invisible and independent of time and place. For no one can see who it is that has true faith, or know where this faith is found.
But one can also speak of the church in another sense. For it is also an external fellowship, a tangible assembly of persons who gather in a particular building, who belong to a certain parish or diocese, etc. In this sense the church has specific regulations, offices, services, and customs. All who have been baptized, all who have been reached by the preaching of the Word and who confess the Christian faith belong to this external Christendom. Here one cannot draw a line of demarcation between those who really believe and those who are hypocrites.
The first-named fellowship is referred to as the inner, spiritual church or Christendom, while the other is referred to as the external, physical Christendom. They are not to be separated. For the inner, spiritual fellowship is the essential element in the external congregation. It is for the sake of this spiritual fellowship that the congregation is held together. But just as it is wrong for the papists to identify the church with the tangible institution, so is it also wrong to abandon the external fellowship in order to found a congregation only for the saints (as the enthusiasts did). Faith must attach itself to the external signs (the sacraments) and to the external Word, and in like manner it must also seek for true Christian fellowship in the external congregation—insofar as the Word and sacraments are found there. In the interest of clarity one must distinguish between the inner and the external congregation or church, but in the concrete they must not be separated from one another; on the contrary, they must be as closely related as possible.
Luther’s concept of the church was clearly expressed in his critique of the papacy and its claims. He believed that the words spoken to Peter, “Upon this rock I will build My church” (Matt. 16), point not to the pope in Rome but to the faith which Peter confessed. At the Leipzig Debate (1519) Luther for the first time attacked the claim of the pope to be the head of Christendom. He asserted that the supports on which this claim was based were false, not only the above-named interpretation of Matt. 16:18 but also the canon law, which provided the basis of papal power. Luther himself made the discovery that the papacy was not nearly as ancient as was commonly believed.
It was customary to refer to the Old Testament description of the Aaronic priesthood as an anticipation of the Roman papacy. Luther repudiated this interpretation. The Old Testament priesthood was abolished in and with Christ. The Old Testament priesthood foreshadowed the coming of Christ, and it was fulfilled in Him.
What are the characteristics of the true church? Luther spoke of three: Baptism, the Lord’s Supper, and (above all) the proclamation of the Word. Where the Gospel is preached, there is the true church; and where the Gospel is lacking, so is the true church. The church has its life and being in the Word. The church consists of the fellowship of saints, but it is constituted by the Word and the sacraments. It is through these means that the Holy Spirit works and gathers the Christians of the world. As far as the papacy is concerned, Luther certainly did not feel that it could be juxtaposed with the church. But he recognized that the Gospel was available in the Church of Rome also, in spite of the misuse and neglect of the preaching office; so Christians could be found also there.
If the church is constituted by the Word, then what is the significance of the office of the ministry? Luther rejected the cleavage between clergy and laity, between the spiritual estate and the secular, which he found in the Church of Rome. Under the new covenant every Christian is a priest in the sense that he can come into the presence of God. This privilege comes to us through Baptism. But external order demands that certain persons should be chosen to administer the Word and sacraments. In other words, they carry out the priestly task on behalf of the congregation. This is not the only conceivable position to take, however. If it were consistently applied, it would imply that ordination is merely a call to a certain form of service. But there is evidence to show that Luther also thought of ordination as a real consecration to a lifelong divine mission.
In this context Luther distinguished between estate (Stand) and office (Amt). The Christian estate, which can be called, in a figurative sense, the priestly estate, is common to all Christians. Because of this, the distinction between the spiritual and secular estates must cease. But the office must be held by certain persons chosen for it, who discharge the responsibility of preaching the Word and administering the sacraments. For Luther there was only one office, the office of the Word or the preaching office. Bishops and teachers belong to this same office, even though they are called to perform other tasks. If the office is to be administered properly, it requires a public call. This comes from the authorities, who are men, and yet it is a call from God.
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