Philipp Melanchthon (1497–1560) was not only Luther’s foremost disciple and co-worker; he also created an independent variety of Reformation theology. Besides this, he also laid the foundations for higher education in the Protestant Church, not only in the field of theology but also with respect to the philosophical disciplines. It is not without reason that he has been called “the Instructor of Germany” (Praeceptor Germaniae).
Melanchthon was only 21 years old when he became professor of Greek at the University of Wittenberg. Under the influence of Luther he gave his wholehearted support to the Reformation and devoted himself more and more to theology, but without giving up his humanistic studies. He became Luther’s closest associate, and after Luther’s death he was the foremost leader of the Reformation in Germany, even though he gradually became a rather controversial figure in Lutheran circles.
Among Melanchthon’s writings his Loci communes is theologically the most interesting. It is the Reformation’s first book in the field of dogmatics. It was first published in 1521, and Luther praised it highly. Later on Melanchthon reworked the material in the book, and subsequent editions appeared in 1535 and 1543. The third edition was much more detailed than the others. This last edition also revealed the extent to which the author had changed his mind on a number of points since 1521.
Melanchthon was the man who actually wrote the Augsburg Confession. He also wrote the “Apology” to this confession, as well as the Treatise on the Power and Primacy of the Pope, which was appended to the Smalcald Articles. A number of Bible commentaries are also included in his theological bibliography, and also an exposition of the Nicene Creed. His Examen ordinandorum was of great help to the young state churches in Germany.
As a writer, Melanchthon did not confine himself to the field of theology. He wrote textbooks for use in a number of philosophical disciplines, and also a commentary on Aristotle. Among other things, he published Philosophia moralis (philosophic ethics), De anima (pyschology), plus a presentation on dialectics. Because of these writings, Melanchthon’s contribution was of decisive significance for the entire range of university instruction in Protestant circles for a long time thereafter.
What was Melanchthon’s position relative to Luther? This question was debated even among contemporary theologians, and it is still being discussed in modern research. In some instances Melanchthon has been thought of as a faithful defender and conscientious interpreter of Luther’s teachings. On other occasions it has been thought that he distorted the original Reformation theology, that he was basically opposed to Luther’s true intentions.
Neither of these interpretations is apt. Melanchthon did not follow Luther on every point. He modified some aspects of Luther’s position which he had once supported himself. These changes can be discerned in the various editions of his Loci. By nature Melanchthon was by no means a mere “yes man”; he was rather a highly independent individual. He was also studiously active in his support of the Reformation. At the same time, he was an irenic person, who strove for harmony—unlike Luther, who liked a good fight.
Melanchthon’s deviations from Luther were not based, therefore, on any lack of understanding of the Reformation’s profound message; they were rather the result of his own deliberate choice. He felt that certain basic theological problems should be presented in a different way. What these differences involved will be dealt with in what follows.
Melanchthon’s lifework had a stamp which was quite different from Luther’s. For while Luther appeared on the stage with prophetic assurance, giving form freely to his ideas, Melanchthon preferred a systematic presentation and thoughtful formulations. He was above all a teacher, while Luther was a prophet. This lack of similarity was of extraordinary value to the Reformation cause. Without Melanchthon’s contribution the Reformation would not have had the solidity and breadth which it achieved. It was he who laid the foundation for the combination of theology and scientific education which was characteristic of the Lutheran state churches and universities in former days. He had a high respect for humanistic education and felt that it was definitely necessary to theology. Without such scholarly support, false teachings could easily gain a footing, theology could degenerate into ignorant and confused speculation, and all of Christianity fall into contempt as a result.
The following survey of Melanchthon’s theology must be limited to those points on which he went beyond or deviated from Luther.
The Loci of 1521 concentrated on Law and Gospel, sin and grace. This was done in accordance with the program set forth in the Foreword: Theology ought not busy itself with metaphysical questions concerning the divine essence or the natures of Christ but with that which concerns the soul’s salvation. Only thus can we secure a true knowledge of Christ. Of what good is it if a doctor knows all about the appearance of herbs but knows nothing about their healing powers? Christian knowledge is to know what the Law demands and how a contrite conscience can be restored.
With respect to the freedom of the will Melanchthon was initially agreeable to the ideas Luther developed in De servo arbitrio. The anthropological considerations were typical of Melanchthon: As far as purely external acts are concerned, man has a certain freedom; the will can regulate our ability to move about. But God’s law looks not to the external acts but to the stirrings of the heart. Melanchthon called these “affections,” and with respect to them, he said, man is not free. It is not possible for man to influence his own heart. Such a strong affection as hate, for example, can only be altered by a new and stronger affection. That is why man is wholly unfree in the spiritual realm. “The Christian knows that there is nothing over which he has less control than his own heart.” This also explains why man is unable to contribute to his own justification. The heart or the affections can be seriously altered only after the Holy Spirit has by faith come to dwell in man, so that the struggle between flesh and spirit begins in him.
Melanchthon also associated himself with other aspects of Luther’s “determinism” in the 1521 Loci. He justified this not only psychologically but also with the concept of God’s omnipotence: since all things happen in accordance with divine predestination, the will is not free. It was on that point, however, that Melanchthon came to deviate from Luther most strongly. By 1530 he began to set forth arguments which, in his estimation, made a doctrine of predestination like that just mentioned impossible.
Alterations with respect to the psychological trend of thought were made in the later editions of the Loci. It is true that the Spirit of God alone is able to halt the corrupting influence of original sin and to break the power of the affections, but in reality (said the mature Melanchthon) this is done with the cooperation of the will. For when the Spirit works upon a man through the Word, he can either accept or reject the call (C. R. 21, 1078). Conversion results from the cooperation of three factors: the Word, the Holy Spirit, and the human will. In an addendum which first appeared in the Loci of 1548, the first edition to be published after Luther’s death, this idea was developed even further. Man cannot excuse his inactivity over against the call of grace by saying that there is nothing he can do; for with the support of the Word he can at least pray for God’s help. In this context the free will was defined as “the ability to apply oneself to grace” (facultas applicandi se ad gratiam. C. R. 21, 659). Here Melanchthon does not wish to express a distinctly Semi-Pelagian point of view. He was convinced that the action of the Word and the Spirit comes first, and that the will is able to act only when it is called through the Word and influenced by the Spirit. But Melanchthon also stressed that man must not stand idle and simply wait for the sudden inspiration of the Spirit. And to this he attached another argument.
Melanchthon also rejected the very idea of predestination in the form in which he first presented it. God elects man to salvation and carries out His work of salvation in accordance with His eternal decree. But this cannot mean that God should also predetermine the destruction of evil men. For in such a case God would appear to be the cause of evil, which is inconsistent with God’s nature. Therefore the reason why one is chosen and the other is damned must lie with man. The promise is universal. If Saul is rejected but David is accepted, the difference must have its basis in their own behavior. The divine election is a “secret and eternal election,” about which we can judge only a posteriori. Those who in faith accept God’s mercy for Christ’s sake are elected. The call is universal, and if a man is rejected the explanation is to be found in the fact that he rejected the call. One could scarcely say that Melanchthon was a synergist on this question, but he did desire to emphasize the human and volitional aspects of the conversion experience. He also dissociated himself from Luther’s “double” predestination concept and from the idea of God’s omnipotence as the basis of predestination.
With respect to the doctrine of justification, it was Melanchthon who gave precise formulation to the Reformation position, but in doing so he altered to some extent the basic ideas which we find in Luther. This was particularly true of Melanchthon’s later work on the subject. In the Apology (1530) Melanchthon was still able to relate faith to an actual justum fieri, a justifying of the entire man, at the same time that man is declared just before God’s tribunal (justum reputari). Later on, however, he fixed the linguistic usage in such a way that justification in the Pauline sense merely signifies a declaration of justification. In this connection we speak of a “forensic” (from “forum,” marketplace, place where court is held) justification, since it is thought of as an acquittal before the divine judgment seat. Logically to relate this declaration of justification to actual renewal becomes a difficulty. Melanchthon here introduced a problem which Luther did not discuss. According to the latter, a man participates in the Spirit from the time that he appropriates the merits of Christ to himself by faith. Faith signifies participation in Christ. Regeneration results, simultaneously, from imputation. For the latter is not simply a legalistic act of judgment but also God’s life-giving word, which raises man up and gives him the new birth. According to Melanchthon, however, imputation and regeneration are not the same: the former is the attribution of Christ’s fulfilling of the Law, which takes place before the heavenly tribunal, while the infusion of the Spirit is something that follows without being organically related thereto. On one occasion—in Melanchthon’s dispute with Osiander (about which more will be said later)—this point was of central significance. It then appeared as though Melanchthon’s presentation of justification was a veritable defense of the essential Reformation position, at the same time that something of the richness of Luther’s point of view had been lost.
Melanchthon described repentance as a mortificatio, effected by the Law, and a vivificatio, effected by the Gospel. The former was thought of as a more or less limited psychological phenomenon. If one adds to this his emphasis on the activity of the will in conversion, his separating of justification and regeneration, his conceiving of repentance as consisting partly of two stages, etc.—then one can speak of the tendency in Melanchthon to anticipate the later ordo salutis, with its division of the Christian life into different phases. Melanchthon did not actually teach this kind of ordo salutis, however; his statement was a clear and explicit formulation of the evangelical doctrine of repentance, as this was developed during the Reformation.
The Law has a somewhat different position in Melanchthon’s theology than in Luther’s. The former looked upon the Law as a divine, unchangeable order, to which man is obligated. To the two uses of the Law which Luther referred to, usus civilis and usus theologicus, Melanchthon added a third, usus tertius in renatis. By this he meant that even the regenerate are under obligation to the Law, and in the preaching of the Law find a norm and rule of conduct for their lives. They need the Law for support and guidance, for they are afflicted with weakness and fall easily. (Later Pietism construed this original teaching of the third use of the Law to refer to a special and stricter law, which could only be fulfilled by the faithful—the equivalent, thus, of the Roman Catholic teaching of the evangelical counsels.)
The strong pedagogical strain in Melanchthon’s theology has already been mentioned. Associated with this was an emphasis on pure doctrine. This emphasis became very prominent in the older evangelical theology, and the connection between this and the Lutheran concept of faith and the Bible is rather obvious. The increasingly doctrinaire attitude of Melanchthon was revealed among other things in his doctrine of the church. He strongly emphasized the visible church (ecclesia visibilis), which is made up of those who confess the pure doctrine and use the sacraments. The distinctive mark of the true church, therefore, is not simply the preaching of the Word, but also the pure doctrine. “The visible church is the assembly of those who embrace the Gospel of Christ and use the sacraments rightly. God works in it through the ministry of the Gospel and regenerates many to eternal life. Nevertheless, there are many in this assembly who are not regenerate, but there is agreement on the true doctrine” (C. R., 21, 826). The weight which he attached to the teaching office was also characteristic of Melanchthon’s ecclesiology. He divided church members into those who teach and those who listen. Obedience to the teaching office was greatly emphasized. As a result of this, the Lutheran concept of the universal priesthood lost some of its significance.
Melanchthon’s formulation of the relationship of the church to the secular authority also provided a prototype for future generations. He taught that the state has assumed both the power functions and the external administration of the church, as well as the responsibility of supporting and protecting the church. The prince was to be custos utriusque tabulae—that is, the protector also of faith and the true worship of God. He was thought to be under obligation to the teaching office with respect to that which concerns the administration of the Word and the true doctrine in the congregation.
Reference is often made to Melanchthon’s traditionalism. This refers to the fact that the ecumenical creeds and the early Christian consensus as a whole received an increasing amount of attention in his theology. He felt that he could not teach that for which support was lacking from the era of the early church. Melanchthon did not believe, however, that tradition is on the same level as Scripture. He rather thought of tradition only as the means whereby the original revelation has come to us, and without which we cannot properly interpret Scripture. Therefore the greatest weight is to be attached to the oldest tradition. Scripture and the properly sifted tradition form a unity. A good example of Melanchthon’s strong dependence, on principle, upon the church fathers can be seen in his concept of the Lord’s Supper. He was critical of Luther’s use of the doctrine of ubiquity in this connection. He could find no support for this interpretation of the Lord’s Supper in the old tradition. He held fast to the teaching of the Real Presence, but insisted that it must be understood in another way. The body of Christ is found in heaven, but in the strength of His divine omnipotence He can be present in the Lord’s Supper (multivolipresens). His body is not included in the bread, but He is physically present in the use of the Sacrament (in usu Eucharistiae)—with the bread but not in it.
Melanchthon’s profound humanistic tendencies were even more significant than his “traditionalism.” Philosophical presuppositions played an important role in his theology, not only in the modifications which they gave rise to here and there, but above all in the stamp which they set upon his theology in general. Melanchthon’s method was clearly influenced by philosophy. In the later editions of his Loci he maintained that the theologian, like the scientist, must employ method and order and strive for a clear disposition of the material he is working with. To be sure, rational proofs cannot be given in theology, for it is not based on rational principles but on Scripture as God’s Word. But Scripture itself, as well as the confessions of faith, manifest an observable inner orderliness upon which one can construct a theological system. Melanchthon’s own Loci was designed to follow the order of the history of salvation as presented in Scripture and the creeds. In this as in so many other respects, Melanchthon prefigured subsequent developments in Lutheran theology. His so-called “loci method” was used in dogmatic expositions for a long time. Its style was altered, of course, not least of all by the introduction of more and more of the philosophical method. (See the beginning of Ch. 30 below.)
It has long been common in theological research to trace the various tendencies in the subsequent development of Lutheranism back to Melanchthon and his deviations from Luther’s theology. This is certainly true to some extent, but we dare not ignore the fact that Melanchthon was much closer to Luther in many ways than were the theologians who have been thought of as Luther’s successors. It must be remembered, too, that Lutheran orthodoxy frequently and deliberately rejected and opposed Melanchthon, especially on those points where he had deviated from Luther. This opposition was expressed even during Melanchthon’s lifetime, particularly in the controversy which arose between his supporters, the “Philippists,” and the so-called “Gnesio-Lutherans.”
Melanchthon was only 21 years old when he became professor of Greek at the University of Wittenberg. Under the influence of Luther he gave his wholehearted support to the Reformation and devoted himself more and more to theology, but without giving up his humanistic studies. He became Luther’s closest associate, and after Luther’s death he was the foremost leader of the Reformation in Germany, even though he gradually became a rather controversial figure in Lutheran circles.
Among Melanchthon’s writings his Loci communes is theologically the most interesting. It is the Reformation’s first book in the field of dogmatics. It was first published in 1521, and Luther praised it highly. Later on Melanchthon reworked the material in the book, and subsequent editions appeared in 1535 and 1543. The third edition was much more detailed than the others. This last edition also revealed the extent to which the author had changed his mind on a number of points since 1521.
Melanchthon was the man who actually wrote the Augsburg Confession. He also wrote the “Apology” to this confession, as well as the Treatise on the Power and Primacy of the Pope, which was appended to the Smalcald Articles. A number of Bible commentaries are also included in his theological bibliography, and also an exposition of the Nicene Creed. His Examen ordinandorum was of great help to the young state churches in Germany.
As a writer, Melanchthon did not confine himself to the field of theology. He wrote textbooks for use in a number of philosophical disciplines, and also a commentary on Aristotle. Among other things, he published Philosophia moralis (philosophic ethics), De anima (pyschology), plus a presentation on dialectics. Because of these writings, Melanchthon’s contribution was of decisive significance for the entire range of university instruction in Protestant circles for a long time thereafter.
What was Melanchthon’s position relative to Luther? This question was debated even among contemporary theologians, and it is still being discussed in modern research. In some instances Melanchthon has been thought of as a faithful defender and conscientious interpreter of Luther’s teachings. On other occasions it has been thought that he distorted the original Reformation theology, that he was basically opposed to Luther’s true intentions.
Neither of these interpretations is apt. Melanchthon did not follow Luther on every point. He modified some aspects of Luther’s position which he had once supported himself. These changes can be discerned in the various editions of his Loci. By nature Melanchthon was by no means a mere “yes man”; he was rather a highly independent individual. He was also studiously active in his support of the Reformation. At the same time, he was an irenic person, who strove for harmony—unlike Luther, who liked a good fight.
Melanchthon’s deviations from Luther were not based, therefore, on any lack of understanding of the Reformation’s profound message; they were rather the result of his own deliberate choice. He felt that certain basic theological problems should be presented in a different way. What these differences involved will be dealt with in what follows.
Melanchthon’s lifework had a stamp which was quite different from Luther’s. For while Luther appeared on the stage with prophetic assurance, giving form freely to his ideas, Melanchthon preferred a systematic presentation and thoughtful formulations. He was above all a teacher, while Luther was a prophet. This lack of similarity was of extraordinary value to the Reformation cause. Without Melanchthon’s contribution the Reformation would not have had the solidity and breadth which it achieved. It was he who laid the foundation for the combination of theology and scientific education which was characteristic of the Lutheran state churches and universities in former days. He had a high respect for humanistic education and felt that it was definitely necessary to theology. Without such scholarly support, false teachings could easily gain a footing, theology could degenerate into ignorant and confused speculation, and all of Christianity fall into contempt as a result.
The following survey of Melanchthon’s theology must be limited to those points on which he went beyond or deviated from Luther.
The Loci of 1521 concentrated on Law and Gospel, sin and grace. This was done in accordance with the program set forth in the Foreword: Theology ought not busy itself with metaphysical questions concerning the divine essence or the natures of Christ but with that which concerns the soul’s salvation. Only thus can we secure a true knowledge of Christ. Of what good is it if a doctor knows all about the appearance of herbs but knows nothing about their healing powers? Christian knowledge is to know what the Law demands and how a contrite conscience can be restored.
With respect to the freedom of the will Melanchthon was initially agreeable to the ideas Luther developed in De servo arbitrio. The anthropological considerations were typical of Melanchthon: As far as purely external acts are concerned, man has a certain freedom; the will can regulate our ability to move about. But God’s law looks not to the external acts but to the stirrings of the heart. Melanchthon called these “affections,” and with respect to them, he said, man is not free. It is not possible for man to influence his own heart. Such a strong affection as hate, for example, can only be altered by a new and stronger affection. That is why man is wholly unfree in the spiritual realm. “The Christian knows that there is nothing over which he has less control than his own heart.” This also explains why man is unable to contribute to his own justification. The heart or the affections can be seriously altered only after the Holy Spirit has by faith come to dwell in man, so that the struggle between flesh and spirit begins in him.
Melanchthon also associated himself with other aspects of Luther’s “determinism” in the 1521 Loci. He justified this not only psychologically but also with the concept of God’s omnipotence: since all things happen in accordance with divine predestination, the will is not free. It was on that point, however, that Melanchthon came to deviate from Luther most strongly. By 1530 he began to set forth arguments which, in his estimation, made a doctrine of predestination like that just mentioned impossible.
Alterations with respect to the psychological trend of thought were made in the later editions of the Loci. It is true that the Spirit of God alone is able to halt the corrupting influence of original sin and to break the power of the affections, but in reality (said the mature Melanchthon) this is done with the cooperation of the will. For when the Spirit works upon a man through the Word, he can either accept or reject the call (C. R. 21, 1078). Conversion results from the cooperation of three factors: the Word, the Holy Spirit, and the human will. In an addendum which first appeared in the Loci of 1548, the first edition to be published after Luther’s death, this idea was developed even further. Man cannot excuse his inactivity over against the call of grace by saying that there is nothing he can do; for with the support of the Word he can at least pray for God’s help. In this context the free will was defined as “the ability to apply oneself to grace” (facultas applicandi se ad gratiam. C. R. 21, 659). Here Melanchthon does not wish to express a distinctly Semi-Pelagian point of view. He was convinced that the action of the Word and the Spirit comes first, and that the will is able to act only when it is called through the Word and influenced by the Spirit. But Melanchthon also stressed that man must not stand idle and simply wait for the sudden inspiration of the Spirit. And to this he attached another argument.
Melanchthon also rejected the very idea of predestination in the form in which he first presented it. God elects man to salvation and carries out His work of salvation in accordance with His eternal decree. But this cannot mean that God should also predetermine the destruction of evil men. For in such a case God would appear to be the cause of evil, which is inconsistent with God’s nature. Therefore the reason why one is chosen and the other is damned must lie with man. The promise is universal. If Saul is rejected but David is accepted, the difference must have its basis in their own behavior. The divine election is a “secret and eternal election,” about which we can judge only a posteriori. Those who in faith accept God’s mercy for Christ’s sake are elected. The call is universal, and if a man is rejected the explanation is to be found in the fact that he rejected the call. One could scarcely say that Melanchthon was a synergist on this question, but he did desire to emphasize the human and volitional aspects of the conversion experience. He also dissociated himself from Luther’s “double” predestination concept and from the idea of God’s omnipotence as the basis of predestination.
With respect to the doctrine of justification, it was Melanchthon who gave precise formulation to the Reformation position, but in doing so he altered to some extent the basic ideas which we find in Luther. This was particularly true of Melanchthon’s later work on the subject. In the Apology (1530) Melanchthon was still able to relate faith to an actual justum fieri, a justifying of the entire man, at the same time that man is declared just before God’s tribunal (justum reputari). Later on, however, he fixed the linguistic usage in such a way that justification in the Pauline sense merely signifies a declaration of justification. In this connection we speak of a “forensic” (from “forum,” marketplace, place where court is held) justification, since it is thought of as an acquittal before the divine judgment seat. Logically to relate this declaration of justification to actual renewal becomes a difficulty. Melanchthon here introduced a problem which Luther did not discuss. According to the latter, a man participates in the Spirit from the time that he appropriates the merits of Christ to himself by faith. Faith signifies participation in Christ. Regeneration results, simultaneously, from imputation. For the latter is not simply a legalistic act of judgment but also God’s life-giving word, which raises man up and gives him the new birth. According to Melanchthon, however, imputation and regeneration are not the same: the former is the attribution of Christ’s fulfilling of the Law, which takes place before the heavenly tribunal, while the infusion of the Spirit is something that follows without being organically related thereto. On one occasion—in Melanchthon’s dispute with Osiander (about which more will be said later)—this point was of central significance. It then appeared as though Melanchthon’s presentation of justification was a veritable defense of the essential Reformation position, at the same time that something of the richness of Luther’s point of view had been lost.
Melanchthon described repentance as a mortificatio, effected by the Law, and a vivificatio, effected by the Gospel. The former was thought of as a more or less limited psychological phenomenon. If one adds to this his emphasis on the activity of the will in conversion, his separating of justification and regeneration, his conceiving of repentance as consisting partly of two stages, etc.—then one can speak of the tendency in Melanchthon to anticipate the later ordo salutis, with its division of the Christian life into different phases. Melanchthon did not actually teach this kind of ordo salutis, however; his statement was a clear and explicit formulation of the evangelical doctrine of repentance, as this was developed during the Reformation.
The Law has a somewhat different position in Melanchthon’s theology than in Luther’s. The former looked upon the Law as a divine, unchangeable order, to which man is obligated. To the two uses of the Law which Luther referred to, usus civilis and usus theologicus, Melanchthon added a third, usus tertius in renatis. By this he meant that even the regenerate are under obligation to the Law, and in the preaching of the Law find a norm and rule of conduct for their lives. They need the Law for support and guidance, for they are afflicted with weakness and fall easily. (Later Pietism construed this original teaching of the third use of the Law to refer to a special and stricter law, which could only be fulfilled by the faithful—the equivalent, thus, of the Roman Catholic teaching of the evangelical counsels.)
The strong pedagogical strain in Melanchthon’s theology has already been mentioned. Associated with this was an emphasis on pure doctrine. This emphasis became very prominent in the older evangelical theology, and the connection between this and the Lutheran concept of faith and the Bible is rather obvious. The increasingly doctrinaire attitude of Melanchthon was revealed among other things in his doctrine of the church. He strongly emphasized the visible church (ecclesia visibilis), which is made up of those who confess the pure doctrine and use the sacraments. The distinctive mark of the true church, therefore, is not simply the preaching of the Word, but also the pure doctrine. “The visible church is the assembly of those who embrace the Gospel of Christ and use the sacraments rightly. God works in it through the ministry of the Gospel and regenerates many to eternal life. Nevertheless, there are many in this assembly who are not regenerate, but there is agreement on the true doctrine” (C. R., 21, 826). The weight which he attached to the teaching office was also characteristic of Melanchthon’s ecclesiology. He divided church members into those who teach and those who listen. Obedience to the teaching office was greatly emphasized. As a result of this, the Lutheran concept of the universal priesthood lost some of its significance.
Melanchthon’s formulation of the relationship of the church to the secular authority also provided a prototype for future generations. He taught that the state has assumed both the power functions and the external administration of the church, as well as the responsibility of supporting and protecting the church. The prince was to be custos utriusque tabulae—that is, the protector also of faith and the true worship of God. He was thought to be under obligation to the teaching office with respect to that which concerns the administration of the Word and the true doctrine in the congregation.
Reference is often made to Melanchthon’s traditionalism. This refers to the fact that the ecumenical creeds and the early Christian consensus as a whole received an increasing amount of attention in his theology. He felt that he could not teach that for which support was lacking from the era of the early church. Melanchthon did not believe, however, that tradition is on the same level as Scripture. He rather thought of tradition only as the means whereby the original revelation has come to us, and without which we cannot properly interpret Scripture. Therefore the greatest weight is to be attached to the oldest tradition. Scripture and the properly sifted tradition form a unity. A good example of Melanchthon’s strong dependence, on principle, upon the church fathers can be seen in his concept of the Lord’s Supper. He was critical of Luther’s use of the doctrine of ubiquity in this connection. He could find no support for this interpretation of the Lord’s Supper in the old tradition. He held fast to the teaching of the Real Presence, but insisted that it must be understood in another way. The body of Christ is found in heaven, but in the strength of His divine omnipotence He can be present in the Lord’s Supper (multivolipresens). His body is not included in the bread, but He is physically present in the use of the Sacrament (in usu Eucharistiae)—with the bread but not in it.
Melanchthon’s profound humanistic tendencies were even more significant than his “traditionalism.” Philosophical presuppositions played an important role in his theology, not only in the modifications which they gave rise to here and there, but above all in the stamp which they set upon his theology in general. Melanchthon’s method was clearly influenced by philosophy. In the later editions of his Loci he maintained that the theologian, like the scientist, must employ method and order and strive for a clear disposition of the material he is working with. To be sure, rational proofs cannot be given in theology, for it is not based on rational principles but on Scripture as God’s Word. But Scripture itself, as well as the confessions of faith, manifest an observable inner orderliness upon which one can construct a theological system. Melanchthon’s own Loci was designed to follow the order of the history of salvation as presented in Scripture and the creeds. In this as in so many other respects, Melanchthon prefigured subsequent developments in Lutheran theology. His so-called “loci method” was used in dogmatic expositions for a long time. Its style was altered, of course, not least of all by the introduction of more and more of the philosophical method. (See the beginning of Ch. 30 below.)
It has long been common in theological research to trace the various tendencies in the subsequent development of Lutheranism back to Melanchthon and his deviations from Luther’s theology. This is certainly true to some extent, but we dare not ignore the fact that Melanchthon was much closer to Luther in many ways than were the theologians who have been thought of as Luther’s successors. It must be remembered, too, that Lutheran orthodoxy frequently and deliberately rejected and opposed Melanchthon, especially on those points where he had deviated from Luther. This opposition was expressed even during Melanchthon’s lifetime, particularly in the controversy which arose between his supporters, the “Philippists,” and the so-called “Gnesio-Lutherans.”
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