Part 2

The controversy did much, however, to crystallize his own views: The pope did not have absolute authority; a council can err in its decisions; the Bible is above popes and councils in authority; the Church of Christ is not limited to the Roman fellowship alone but is the community of believers throughout the world.

Gradually Luther realized these views differed so fundamentally from those of Rome that there was small chance of healing the breach. The notion that he might become a martyr recurred frequently but it didn’t cause him to relinquish his zeal. In fact he received inspiration from it and kept three presses rolling at full speed to turn out tracts, sermons, and commentaries.

In addition to the Leipzig debate, the summer of 1519 brought forth another event which was significant in Luther’s life. Maximilian, the Holy Roman Emperor, died in January and the election of a successor was of utmost concern to the rulers and populace of Europe. Consequently, there was rejoicing in Germany on June 28 when the electors named Charles of Spain in preference to Francis of France. Charles was a Hapsburg and the Germans confidently expected he would unite them into a strong, independent nation. However, the new emperor favored his Spanish mother more than his German father and treated his fatherland like an outlying province of Spain.

Wide distribution of the Ninety-five Theses and other writings, as well as prominence resulting from the Leipzig encounter, had fixed the eyes of many Germans upon Luther. When Charles failed to step into the role of national figure they switched their enthusiasm to Luther. Few understood his ideas on Christianity but they believed he could lead them to political, intellectual, and economic freedom. Scholars, princes, knights, and commoners gathered about the Wittenberg professor who had demonstrated his fearlessness in the face of tyranny. Gradually Luther sensed his mission as leader in a mighty movement. History called it the Reformation.

LUTHER EXPLAINS HIMSELF

The Christian Nobility

Luther’s attempts to interest the pope in reform had proved futile. He was likewise unsuccessful in having a general council convened to consider his propositions. Now, in the first of three great treatises, he called upon the secular rulers to concern themselves with the state of the church.

Appearing in August, 1520, the “Open Letter to the Christian Nobility of the German Nation” flatly attacked corruption among the clergy and prodded the laity into doing something about it. Since all Christians are priests before God, Luther held it was incumbent upon them and particularly upon Christian rulers to feel responsible for the conduct of the church within their domains. As Christians they should abhor vice and wickedness regardless of whether it flourished on the main street or in the monastery.

No one, said the open letter, has been able to reform the Romanists because they have erected three walls of defense, “_First_, when pressed by the temporal power, they have made decrees and said that the temporal power has no jurisdiction over them. _Second_, when the attempt is made to reprove them out of the Scriptures, they raise the objection that the interpretation of the Scriptures belongs to no one except the pope. _Third_, if threatened with a council, they answer with the fable that no one can call a council but the pope.”

Luther demolished the first wall by showing that everyone is equal before God. Those holding the title of priest or bishop are not superior to other Christians nor do they differ except in vocation, by which also a cobbler differs from a blacksmith. The title of “priest” is conferred by laymen who themselves are priests in the sight of God. Thus the holder of a church title is not beyond the reach of temporal government.

He breached the second wall by pointing out that every enlightened Christian—layman or priest—has the right to seek God’s message for him in the Scriptures. The third wall tumbled through Luther’s insistence that every man, as a priest, shares responsibility for right management in the church.

The Babylonian Captivity

Before his letter to the nobility was off press, Luther was writing his second treatise, “The Babylonian Captivity of the Church.” The first had been primarily for lay people while the second was for theologians. It aimed directly at freeing the Christian fellowship in Europe from the “captivity” of the Roman sacramental system.

The Roman Church taught that it alone could dispense the saving grace associated with the sacraments, and that the sacramental acts could be performed only by ordained priests. Anyone who denied that the church controlled the flow of grace from God was striking Catholicism in its most vital spot. Without its sacramental system Rome could no longer bind its subjects. This was the front at which Luther aimed his heaviest artillery.

He reiterated his views on the priesthood of believers. Priests should be servants of the people who comprise the church, rather than servants of a papal hierarchy. They cannot interfere with grace. It is God’s free gift to the individual believer.

In the course of his treatise Luther also asserted that there are only two sacraments—baptism and the Lord’s Supper—rather than seven as taught in Roman Catholicism. A sacrament, he held, had to be instituted by Christ, contain a divine promise of the forgiveness of sins, and make use of an earthly element (water, bread, wine). Confirmation, ordination, marriage, penance, and extreme unction were rejected as sacraments because they lacked some of the prescribed characteristics.

The mass had been seen as a repetition of Christ’s incarnation and crucifixion at the hands of a priest before the altar. By this sacrifice man tried to earn grace. Now it became the Lord’s Supper—a communion of the believing Christian with his Saviour. Both the bread and the wine should be received by the communicant, Luther insisted. While Christ is really present in the elements, the bread does not become flesh nor the wine blood through a magical act called transubstantiation. Moreover, Christ is not sacrificed anew whenever the mass is celebrated. His sacrifice on the cross was for all time. Through that sacrifice a man’s sins are remitted if he has faith.

Christian Liberty

Miltitz, the papal nuncio who previously had failed to reconcile Luther and the pope, tried again in October, 1520. He had Luther agree to write a letter to Leo X assuring him that there was nothing personal in his attacks on the papacy.

In the letter, Luther cautioned Leo against listening to those of his advisers who would make him a demigod, who put him above councils, who make him the final authority in interpreting Scripture, “for through them Satan already has made much headway.” He also assured Leo that he was an obedient servant of the church and that he was not inveighing against him personally.

Accompanying the letter was a copy of Luther’s latest pamphlet, “A Treatise on Christian Liberty.” It expresses calm Christian reflection quite different from the theological conflicts which were carried forward in his other treatises. At the outset it poses two propositions which seem to be a paradox: “A Christian man is a perfectly free lord of all, subject to none,” and “A Christian man is a perfectly dutiful servant of all, subject to all.”

The first proposition acknowledges man as a sinner, but one who has been liberated and restored to a right relationship with God through justifying grace. In justifying man, God has freed him from the consequence of his sins because of Christ’s atonement.

This freedom affects a man’s whole life. Not only is he free from the consequences of sin, but he is no longer shackled by his own hates, passions, and wilful desires. Because this freedom is based on his own personal relationship with God, no one can interfere. He is “subject to none.”

The second proposition indicates that the free man’s life takes a different direction. Originally he was concerned with himself, but now the reborn person, in gratitude for his own freedom, serves his neighbor. His motive is not merely humanitarian, but stems out of a sincere desire to help others become free too. Love permits him to do no less than become the servant of all.

The treatise and letter would have scant effect on Pope Leo. Five months previously he had signed a bull excommunicating Luther.

The Papal Bull

A chronological listing of events can be misleading—for instance those concerning the papal bull. It was signed by Leo on June 15, 1520. It reached Luther officially on October 10. He immediately wrote a fiery epistle denouncing it and Eck, whose style and invective he recognized. Aware that the bull was being circulated and that his literature was being burned, he nevertheless sat down in November and wrote a friendly letter to the pope accompanying it with his treatise on Christian liberty.

On the surface this would indicate insincerity, but events shaped up to prove he was being consistent. Although he knew he had personal enemies, he never lost sight of the fact that he was fighting a system rather than individuals. The pope, for him, was merely a figurehead, in this instance the symbol of an intolerable autocracy in an area where individual freedom before God was essential.

The papal bull credited Luther with forty-one errors, called for the burning of his books, charged heresy, gave him sixty days to submit, and warned everyone against sheltering him in his excommunication. Distribution of the bull was in the hands of Eck and papal legate Jerome Aleander. They succeeded in posting copies of the bull and burning books in several cities, but largely their efforts were unsuccessful due to strenuous opposition by the German people.

On December 10, probably in reprisal for a book-burning at Cologne, Melanchthon posted a notice on the Wittenberg University bulletin board inviting students and faculty to a bonfire outside the Elster gate of the city. Books on scholastic theology, and especially those works of canon law on which the pope and the Roman hierarchy based their claims to power, were tossed into the flames. Then Luther stepped forward quietly and with a prayer on his lips added the booklet containing the papal bull to the fire. He and the professors withdrew but the students made a holiday of the affair, parading and singing throughout the town and burning books of Luther’s opponents.

Significantly, the bonfire marked the end of the sixty-day period of grace. From now on no one was to communicate with Luther or provide him with the necessities of life. In the eyes of Rome he was an outlaw.

THE MONK STANDS FIRM

The Diet of Worms

Overtones of intrigue and statecraft are dominant in the prelude to the imperial assembly at Worms. The church at Rome had given its decision. Would the secular authorities now take action and turn him over to the papal authorities?

Charles, at his coronation as emperor, had subscribed to the imperial constitution which said no German should be taken outside his country for trial, and also that no one should be outlawed without a hearing. Frederick the Wise, Luther’s elector, took no action against him, using these same reasons as an excuse. Aleander, the papal representative, wanted the case settled arbitrarily by the emperor since he was well aware of the support Luther would receive at a public hearing. The man had been condemned by the church, he argued, and as good churchmen the rulers should simply apprehend the Wittenberg monk without a further examination of his views.

For the first three months of 1521 the diet devoted itself chiefly to transacting state business. During this period Emperor Charles changed his mind several times about inviting the Wittenberg monk for a hearing. Finally, on March 6, against his will, he offered Luther a safe-conduct to Worms.

In a two-wheeled cart Luther and a few companions set out from Wittenberg on April 2. Cities along the way welcomed him and invited him to preach, but no reception equaled the one on his arrival at Worms. When the party was sighted from the cathedral tower at 10 A. M., on April 16, a group of horsemen dashed out to act as an escort through the city gate. Two thousand spectators thronged the streets so that Luther was barely able to reach his lodging in the house of the Knights of St. John.

He was summoned to appear at four o’clock the following afternoon, and because of the crowds in the streets was conducted through gardens and alleys to the episcopal palace where the diet was meeting. When the door of the assembly hall was opened, Luther was ushered through a company of princes, nobles, and ecclesiastics to the foot of a canopied chair. On it sat Charles, the twenty-one-year-old emperor. Near by was a table loaded with books.

Answer Without Horns

After the opening courtesies had been dispatched the presiding officer, an official of the archbishop of Trier, pointed to the books, asked Luther if he was the author, and if he was ready to retract what he had written.

Luther had been instructed to speak only in answer to direct questions and was not to seek a discussion. However, this double question could not be answered yes or no. He paused and his legal adviser asked that the titles be read. Luther then acknowledged that the books were his.

Again the question, “Will you retract...?”

The monk believed his writing was an accurate interpretation of God’s Word. In his mind was Christ’s admonition to the disciples “whosoever shall deny me before men, him will I also deny before my Father....” Since salvation was involved he asked time to think over the answer. The diet agreed that he should return at four the next afternoon.

After a night of prayer Luther again appeared before the impressive assembly. This time a larger hall had been chosen because of the tremendous crowd. Again the formalities, and again the question, but this time phrased a bit differently. “Do you defend all of your books or are you willing to recall some things?” This was the opening Luther had been seeking and he quickly shaped his strategy to take advantage of it. They were forcing him to make a speech since a categorical answer was impossible.

The books were in three classes, Luther explained. The first was purely devotional and had been commended even by his enemies. The second was against the papacy. If he recanted these he would open the door to further tyranny and impiety. The third class inveighed against individuals, and in these he admitted he had used caustic and intemperate language. Still the facts had to stand unless refuted by the Scriptures, in which case he would be first to cast his books into the fires.

Obviously the diet could not at this moment disprove his works by the Bible. There was a consultation. The interrogator turned to Luther. “Give us a direct answer—one without horns. Will you or will you not recant your errors?”

Neither Right nor Safe

The Spanish guards were mentally stacking faggots around the lonely little figure in the middle of the room. Princes, nobles, and the Holy Roman Emperor leaned forward to catch his words.

“Since Your Majesty and Your Lordships want a direct reply, I will answer without horns or teeth,” he began quietly.

The spectators looked at each other significantly, then back to the earnest friar. Confidence was returning and his voice carried plainly to all corners of the room.

“Unless convinced by the testimony of Scripture or right reason—for I trust neither the pope nor councils inasmuch as they have often erred and contradicted one another—I am bound in conscience, held captive by the Word of God in the Scriptures I have quoted. I neither can nor will recant anything, for it is neither right nor safe to act against conscience. God help me! Amen.”

There was silence for an instant. Then pandemonium broke loose. The interrogator tried to restore order but the emperor walked out and the meeting adjourned. Luther was escorted back to his rooms by the admiring populace. Nobles who had been on the fringe now openly praised the courageous preacher and vowed their support. During the night warning notices were surreptitiously posted on the doors of his enemies.

Charles summoned the electors and princes the following day to decide what should be done. His own impulse to condemn Luther right away was restrained because he needed the good will of the Germans in other measures coming before the diet. A plan was evolved whereby a select group of theologians would call on Luther and try to effect a reconciliation through persuasion. The discussion always bogged down when Luther insisted he must be persuaded on the basis of Scripture.

Having received a twenty-one-day safe-conduct Luther set out for Wittenberg on April 26. The diet closed officially on May 25, and the next day, following a rump session of prejudiced nobles, the emperor signed the Edict of Worms. According to it, Luther was the devil himself in a monk’s habit. He was to be seized on sight and turned over to the emperor—an outlaw of the church and the state.

DRASTIC CHANGES

Wartburg to Wittenberg

Fortunately for Luther there was more than noisy adulation among the people. A few sober minds knew how relentless the papal wolves would be in tracking him down after the safe-conduct expired, and so a “kidnapping” and removal to a safe place was planned.

Luther made a detour along the road to Wittenberg in order to visit relatives at Möhra. For months the outside world knew only that he had been captured near there in the Thuringian forest by a band of knights. Many lamented him as dead, but gradually the flow of thorny letters to his adversaries and the new treatises rolling from the press allayed their fears.

By a circuitous route Luther had been conveyed to the Wartburg, an ancient fortress-castle near Eisenach. He arrived on May 4 and, with the exception of short trips into the forest and to near-by villages, did not leave for seven months. To outward appearances he was Junker George, a carefree, bearded knight with sword swinging impressively at his side. The secret was well kept and at the outset even the elector, who authorized the masquerade, did not know Luther’s whereabouts.

Luther chafed at his forced inactivity, and, ever the monk, fell to contemplation and examination of himself. Could past generations and earlier scholars have been so completely out of step with the gospel? Could a mere friar be right against them all? Might he not be in error and drag many others to eternal damnation?

Hard work helped take his mind off his problems. During his stay in the Wartburg, in addition to correspondence and pamphlets, he authored a work on confession, expositions on several Psalms, a commentary on the Magnificat, had a volume of sermons on the Epistles and Gospels well underway, and had translated the entire New Testament into German.

Prayer and study restored his conviction. To doubt, or even to remain silent was like going against conscience—neither right nor safe. With conviction came a sense of divine commission. When events called him back into the world again he went courageously and with determination. He was a revolutionary, but a conservative one. That quality is what took him back to Wittenberg.

From Freedom to License

So often a new movement suffers from overenthusiasm. The Reformation was no exception in this respect. Zealots took the usual shortcut from bondage to freedom by way of turmoil instead of restrained orderly procedure.

In parts of Germany the old ways were thrown off hastily. Organs, paintings, and statues were thrown from the churches, vestments were discarded, bread and wine were both administered to the laity, priests married, nuns took husbands, monastic vows were renounced, various forms of the mass were discontinued, priests and worshipers who persisted in the traditional forms were attacked.

Rumors of violent acts reached the Wartburg. Luther, still in the guise of Junker George, made a hurried trip to Wittenberg early in December, 1521. Matters there had not yet reached the unrestrained stage which they later assumed. Nevertheless he cautioned the people in a “warning against riot and rebellion,” written on his return to the Wartburg.

In it he reasoned that reform is not so much a matter of externals as of faith. Breaking up the furniture in a church does not change the heart of a man. Vandalism is by no means a sign of repentance and trust in God—in fact it approaches the old form of seeking favor through works. Giving wine as well as bread in the Lord’s Supper is not as important as the spiritual attitude of the communicant.

Finally the tumult in Wittenberg reached the point where he had to step in, so—in the face of the imperial ban—he returned on March 6, 1522. Insisting that no drastic change should be made until, through re-education, those affected requested it as a matter of faith, he restored order in the university city in a remarkably short time.

The peasants meanwhile took the shortcut to freedom, too, in a series of bloody uprisings. Chafing under their bondage to the nobles, they adapted Luther’s “free lord of all” statement to their own demands for social reform. Luther preached the Christian duty of submission to lawful authority, but the peasants ravaged and plundered until finally defeated in 1525. It was a dark hour in the Reformation.

Pigtails on the Pillow

Wittenberg, June 14—Katherine von Bora, 26, late of the Cistercian nunnery at Nimbschen, and Martin Luther, 42, professor of Bible at the local university, were married last night at a simple ceremony in the Black Cloister. Dr. John Bugenhagen officiated. In attendance were Artist Lucas Cranach and Mrs. Cranach; Dr. Justus Jonas, prior of Castle Church; and John Apel, professor of law at the university....

If there had been newspapers in 1525, Luther’s wedding might have been announced to the public in this way. However, newspapers weren’t to appear until much later, and the lack of publicity gave gossips and slanderers choice opportunity to vilify the former monk and nun. The malicious stories were partly offset by a public ceremony, complete with a special service in the town church, a wedding dinner in the cloister, and a dance at the town hall on June 27.

The wedding was a direct result of Luther’s reform teachings. He disliked the monastic system because men and women sought merit before God through restraints and vows rather than depending upon grace. Celibacy, he had written earlier, is not founded on Scripture but marriage is. These teachings found their way into many cloisters and convents, among them the one at Nimbschen where Katherine von Bora, at the age of sixteen, had been received into the Cistercian Order.

She and eleven other nuns sought Luther’s assistance in effecting a plan of escape. Although he had no idea of what it would involve for him personally, he arranged for them to be smuggled out of the convent in empty fish barrels on the day before Easter in 1523. The plan succeeded and some of the nuns came to Wittenberg where they found homes, husbands, or new positions. Two years later Kathie was the only one not permanently cared for despite Luther’s several attempts at matchmaking. Then the spunky miss hinted rather boldly that the Reformer himself would be an acceptable husband and he resolved to take the course which he had urged on so many others.

It was strange for one accustomed to solitude. “Formerly at the table I was alone,” he wrote, “now I am with someone. When I awaken I see a pair of pigtails on the pillow which were not there before.”

The Cloister Becomes a Home