Reformation Studies: Essay in Honor of Roland H. Bainton - F. H. Littell (Ed.)

REFORMATION STUDIES
ROLAND. H. BAINTON
REFORMATION
STUDIES
Essays in Honor of
ROLAND H. BAINTON
edited by
FRANKLIN H. LITTELL
JOHN KNOX PRESS

RICHMOND, VIRGINIA
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 62-16259
© M. E. BRATCHER 1g62
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
8282(20)4116
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PREFACE
The idea of a Festschrift is slowly gaining ground in the American
scene. The present volume is written by students peculiarly indebted
to Roland H. Bainton of Yale, and its intention is to memorialize that
sense of personal and professional obligation. At the same time, it is the
rising interest in Reformation studies—Professor Bainton's area of par
ticular concentration—which gives rise to the hope that the studies
here published may add to the body of knowledge in a field of Church
History as well as give honor to one of its most distinguished practi
tioners.
The volume is so planned as to give attention both to the classical
Reformation and to the often-neglected "Left Wing"—whose personal
ities, movements, and general significance Dr. Bainton has done so
much to rescue from obscurity.
The writers include clergymen, college professors, and seminary
faculty members. This too is appropriate, for he to whom we pay
tribute has blessed both the people of God and the republic of learn
ing in his ministry.
Special thanks are due to Ruth Woodruff Bainton, for both giving
and keeping counsel; to Dr. Raymond P. Morris, for once again giving
timely bibliographical assistance to a colleague's students; to the His-
torische Kommission fiir Hessen und Waldeck, for permission to pub
lish the translation from the Marburg Disputation (pp. 147-167); to
members of the editorial staff of John Knox Press, for enthusiasm and
meticulous attention to detail. The editor wants to express his gratitude
also to Dr. Charles T. Lester, Dean of the Graduate School of Emory
University, for direct encouragement to this project, and to Dorothy
Anderson and Dorothy Laughbaum for gifted and painstaking secre
tarial services.
F. H. L.
CONTENTS
PAGE
Roland H. Bainton: A Biographical Appreciation 11

by Georgia Harkness, Pacific School of Religion
Essays on Luther
Faith and Knowledge in Luther's Theology 21
by N. Arne Bendtz, Augustana Theological Seminary
A Reasonable Luther
by Robert H. Fischer, Chicago Lutheran Theological Seminary <§
Anfechtung in Luther's Biblical Exegesis 46
by C. Warren Hovland, Oregon State College
Medieval Consolation and the Young Luther's Despair 61
by John von Rohr, Pacific School of Religion
Luther's Frontier in Hungary 75
by William Toth, Franklin and Marshall College
Essays on Calvin
The Relation of God's Grace to His Glory in John Calvin 95
by Henry Kuizenga, First Presbyterian Church, San Anselmo,
California
Calvin's Theological Method and the Ambiguity in His Theology 106
by John H. Leith, Union Theological Seminary in Virginia
Essays on Other Men and Movements

Lefevre d'fitaples: Three Phases of His Life and Work 117
by John Woolman Brush, Andover-Newton Theological School
Continental Protestantism and Elizabethan Anglicanism 129
(1570-1595)
by John M. Krumm, Columbia University
New Light on Butzer's Significance 145
by Franklin H. Littell, Chicago Theological Seminary
Reason and Conversion in the Thought of Melanchthon 168
by Clyde L. Manschreck, Methodist Theological School in Ohio
The Strangers' "Model Churches" in Sixteenth-Century England 181
by Frederick A. Norwood, Garrett Theological Seminary
Essays on the Left Wing of the Reformation
Sectarianism and Skepticism: 199
The Strange Allies of Religious Liberty
by Waldo Beach, Divinity School, Duke University
Augsburg and the Early Anabaptists 212
by Paul J. Schwab, Trinity University (San Antonio)
Bernhard Rothmann's Views on the Early Church 229
by Frank J. Wray, Berea College
Fecund Problems of Eschatological Hope, Election Proof, 239
and Social Revolt in Thomas Miintzer
by Lowell H. Zuck, Eden Theological Seminary
A Bibliography of Professor Bainton's Writings on the 251

Reformation Period
Compiled by Raymond P. Morris, Librarian,
Yale Divinity School
Notes and Acknowledgments 254

A BIOGRAPHICAL APPRECIATION
ROLAND H. BAINTON
A Biographical Appreciation
Georgia Harkness
"The history of the world," said Thomas Carlyle, "is but the biog
raphy of great men." 1 This volume of essays is dedicated to the honor
ing of a man who knows the biographies of the great men of the
Reformation, and, indeed, of the entire sweep of ecclesiastical history,
as few men do. Much of his genius lies in the capacity to make these
men of the past—whether the famous great or the little known but
significantly contributory figures of the Reformation—come to life
for the man of today.
Other essays in this volume will carry forward the knowledge of
these great men of the Reformation—Luther, Calvin, Melanchthon,
and others—and of the movements they initiated and furthered. The
scholarly methods of investigation and presentation stimulated by the
study of church history under the man to whom this volume is dedi
cated will be apparent in these essays. Mine is the less exacting but
perhaps no less important task of reminiscing about a great man of
the recent past and the living present—Roland Bainton himself.
Already I seem to hear him in his modesty protest. Great? Well,
perhaps he will not go down in history alongside of Luther and Calvin.
Yet there is more than one kind of greatness. His own careful attention
to Reformation figures like Castellio, Butzer, and Hans Denck gives
evidence that one does not need to stand at the apex of fame to be
worthy of high tribute. And if one accepts Matthew Arnold's defini
tion of greatness as "a spiritual condition worthy to excite love, in
terest and admiration,"2 then there can be no question that Roland
Bainton is a great man.
It is not my purpose to give a "Who's Who" statement of our friend's
curriculum vitae. After all, he appears in that eminent and expansive
volume; the volume appears in almost every library; the reader can
seek it out for himself. History does not consist in the chronological
sequence of names and dates, important though it is that these be ac
18 REFORMATION STUDIES
curate. (Who has studied under Roland Bainton's direction and not
learned promptly the importance of accuracy as the foundation of
living understand1ng?) Some events, however, need to be set down
with dates and places as a framework for whatever else will be said.
That they need not be numerous is itself significant, for the fact that
he has spent forty years teaching in one school is a basic reason why
his influence has gone so deep and why this volume of essays is now
being dedicated to him.
Roland Bainton was born in Ilkeston, Derbyshire, England on
March 30, 1894. His father, the Reverend Herbert Bainton, was a
Congregational minister, and the life story of this modest, winsome,
deeply Christian man is delightfully told in Bainton's recent book,
Pilgrim Parson. Roland's stay in England was of short duration, how
ever, for on May 19, 1898, "the day when Gladstone died"3 (note the
historian speaking!), the family left Ilkeston for Vancouver, B. C. where
his father was to serve another Congregational church. Herbert Bain
ton was not a man to keep silent on a moral issue, and when the Boer
War broke out he did not hesitate to say publicly that he deplored it.
As a result a faction of superpatriots seceded from his church. When
the war was over, thinking that the dissidents might return if he left,
Herbert Bainton began to look around for another church. This move
brought the family in 1902 to Colfax, Washington, where Roland
grew up.
The relation between Roland and his father was unusually close,
and as one reads the story of the elder Bainton one sees the roots of
Roland's pacifist convictions, his intellectual and personal integrity,
and his outgoing friendliness. But to return to the sequence of events,
Roland attended Whitman College, receiving his A.B. in 1914; went
to Yale Divinity School for his seminary training; received his B.D. in
1917 and his Ph.D. in 1921. This sojourn at Yale was to be of life-long
duration, for since 1920 he has been teaching church history there,
first as an instructor, then in the usual sequence of promotions as as
sistant and associate professor, and since 1936 as the Titus Street Pro
fessor of Ecclesiastical History.
When the first World War broke out, he was faced with the critical
decision which every young man of military age confronts. His de
cision, based on an even more clear-cut pacifism than his father's, was
to become a member of a Quaker Unit of the American Red Cross.
Since that time he has maintained a close relationship with the Quak
ers and is both an ordained Congregational minister and an affiliated
member of the Society of Friends. This witness against war and for
/
ROLAND H. BAINTON: A BIOGRAPHICAL APPRECIATION 13
constructive measures of international friendship has led him to be a

life-long member of the Fellowship of Reconciliation, writing and
speaking from this standpoint as occasion required. He and Mrs.
Bainton have served as representatives of the American Friends Service
Committee, and during the second World War his witness brought
reassurance to not a few men in the Civilian Public Service camps.
In 1921 Roland Bainton married Ruth Woodruff. They have five
children, Olive, Herbert, Joyce, Cedric, and Ruth. Both Roland and
Ruth have a strong sense of the integrity of the Christian family, and
Roland with all his busyness about matters of historical scholarship
has always had time for his children.
This, in outline, is his life story, save for the fifteen books and
scores of articles he has written. His influence as scholar and teacher
has brought him a number of honorary degrees, of which perhaps
the most rewarding was the one in 1948 from the University of Mar
burg which has the oldest Protestant seminary in Europe. This cata
logue of events is relatively brief, as the lives of great men go, but it
reflects a life rich in service and unique in its achievements.
I first became acquainted with Roland Bainton in the fall of 1928.
In applying for a Sterling Fellowship at Yale I needed to have a sub
ject. More for this prudential reason than because of any consuming
initial interest, I set myself the task of probing the ethics of John Cal
vin to test the validity of Max Weher's thesis as to the bearing of
Calvinism on the spirit of capitalism. In retrospect I realize how pre
sumptuous was this attempt, for I knew too little about church history
and less about Calvin. That it finally eventuated in the book John
Calvin: the Man and His Ethics—my one excursion into Reformation
history—was due more to Bainton's encouragement and discipline than
to anything else.
Encouragement and discipline I link together advisedly, as I be
lieve anyone must who has ever studied with Professor Bainton. In
spite of my having been awarded the fellowship, which committed me
to the project, he would have been justified in casting me out the first
week. Perhaps he wanted to! But he did not. He showed me patiently,
and without any visible martyr's complex, where to begin and how to
go at it. He enrolled me in his seminar in Reformation history, and I
have memories that few if any of the other contributors to this volume
have, for it met then in his office in the old building in downtown
New Haven. I may confess in retrospect to a few qualms as to the
propriety of a woman's going up to the second floor of a man's dormi
tory to get to class! But there seemed no alternative, and since nobody
else seemed to make any fuss about it, I decided I had better not raise
the issue.
I do not remember all that I heard in that small, darkish, book-
lined room. Yet I recall vividly the scholarly information, marvelously
detailed and enlivened with humor and the touch of down-to-earthness,
that poured forth from the teacher's lips. It came faster than I could
write it down, but enough "stuck" for Calvin, Farel, Beza, Castellio,
Servetus, and other figures of those dramatic days to come alive for
me. From then on, the long hours and many weeks spent with the dusty
folios of the Calvini Opera in the semidarkness of the dungeon-like
stacks of the old library had a purpose. I cannot say there was no
drudgery about it, but the drudgery was redeemed by an interest that
made it worthful.
When I began writing up my findings, I was soon to discover the
scholar's rigor. Nothing was to be affirmed on the basis of memory or
of general impressions. Every reference must not only be stated but
must be checked and double-checked. The relevant contemporary
sources must be consulted. Calvin's French was easy reading for me,
but if I needed to read German, in which I was much lamer, then I
must read it. Universally the students of Bainton's whom I have known
have witnessed to this rigorous scholarship. If one did not wish to
work, and to work long and carefully, sometimes in foreign languages,
then one had better not elect his seminars.
This discipline the professor required not only of his students but
of himself. At the time I studied with him he had published nothing
except some articles and historical monographs, but was working on
the heretics of the Reformation. When I protested that the great wis
dom he had already amassed ought to be put into a book, he said he
had not yet had time to read all the sources. I well recall (I wonder if
he does!) his reply when I tried as gently as possible to suggest that this
wisdom might never get into print, "I have resolved not to go up in
an airplane or to go swimming alone until this is finished." One of his
colleagues, who like myself was inclined to publish without waiting to
read everything, deplored Bainton's "passion for perfection" as de
priving the world of knowledge it ought to be getting. I cannot say
whether the resolution above stated has been maintained to the pres
ent in regard to other projects, but the material I wanted him to pub
lish in 1929 did appear in 1951 in The Travail of Religious Liberty.
It is evidence both of Bainton's self-discipline and of his facility in
learning that he is an accomplished linguist. I was astonished to dis
cover that whenever there seemed to be important material to be
y
delved into in any language not familiar to him, he proceeded to learn

it. I cannot say how many he now reads and speaks, for he has kept on
acquiring more. This linguistic ability has been a great asset not only
in historical research but also in his contacts with foreign students,
who again and again have been made to feel befriended and welcome
through his ability to speak their native tongue.
Probably the best known of Bainton's books are his Abingdon
award-winning life of Martin Luther, Here I Stand, and The Church
of Our Fathers, written originally for children and young people but
widely read by adults. Others which indicate the range of his interests
are a life of George Lincoln Burr; Hunted Heretic, a life of Michael
Servetus, who was burned for heresy in Geneva in 1553; The Martin
Luther Christmas Book, consisting of excerpts from Luther's sermons
on the nativity; The Reformation of the Sixteenth Century; The Age
of the Reformation; Yale and the Ministry; and as evidence of a deep
concern for Christian family life, What Christianity Says About Sex,
Love and Marriage. His most recent volume is Christian A ttitudes To
ward War and Peace. In each of these, whatever its theme, the historian
and the Christian in Bainton speak with clarity. Almost as if in rec
iprocity for his own wide familiarity with other languages than Eng
lish, several of these works have been translated. Publications abroad
are in a number of languages—German, French, Italian, Spanish,
Japanese, and modern Greek.
A quality which appears in both the teaching and the writing of
Roland Bainton is his unusual skill in phrasing. With a rare facility
for finding just the right word or image or turn of the sentence, he
makes what some would regard as the dead past come to life, the most
technical material readable. When others popularize it is often to
oversimplify and to sacrifice substance if not truth for the sake of jour
nalistic clarity and liveliness. This Bainton never does. Yet anyone
with no previous knowledge of Luther can read Here I Stand and come
away from it with much more knowledge than before, not only of
Luther but of the crosscurrents of the Reformation. For the same rea
son it is not strange that The Church of Our Fathers is one of the
most widely used of Bainton's books.
Opening this at random for an illustrative sample I find an item not
hitherto known to me, and possibly not to some readers of this volume.
I shall quote it at some length to indicate the author's sly humor and
lightness of touch alongside of his historical knowledge. In explaining
the provisions of the Benedictine rule and the characteristic require
ments of monastic life he tells how noon came to be so called:
<
The hour of noon used to be at 3:00 in the afternoon. "Noon" comes
from the Latin word nona which means the ninth hour. Counting
from 6:00 that would be 3:00 in the afternoon. The monks were re
quired to wait until "noon" for dinner. They could not change the
rule, but they did move up the hour. That is why noon is now at
12:00. The monks ate in perfect silence while one of their number,
who had already eaten, read to them from some good book. If a monk
desired anything at the table, he was directed to ask for it by signs,
as, for example: for an apple, "put thy thumb in thy fist, and close
thy hand and move afore thee to and fro"; for milk, "draw thy left
little finger in the manner of milking"; for mustard, "hold thy nose
in the upper part of thy right fist, and rub it"; for salt, "flip with thy
right thumb and thy forefinger over the left thumb." After dinner
came naps; then work again in the fields; at sundown, evensong and
bed, with the young monks sandwiched between the old to prevent
any scuffle.4
It is not alone the author's skill in phrasing, touches of humor, or an
eye for pungent detail that makes these books interesting. They are
illustrated with a marvelous collection of early and often contempo
rary woodcuts which over the years he has gathered from various
sources. Some are humorous; others are simply illustrative of charac
teristic activities. Some are intricate and show high artistry; others are
meaningful in their plainness. A few of them attempt to make graphic
the intricacies of theology, as, for example, one which portrays the
Godhead and the four evangelists in the attempt to make clear what
the Trinity is and is not. A fair sample is those which accompany the
passage quoted above: a monk cutting down a tree while another
figure is perched precariously at the top of it hacking out the upper
branches; a friar out with his net catching blackbirds for the monastery
table; another devoutly reading at the lectern. Turn the page, and one
sees a tonsured monk teaching equally tonsured children. Illuminated
initials demonstrate how the letter Q is made into an artistic design
showing the monks occupied in log splitting or in harvesting.
Most of these illustrations are woodcuts. But not all; some are line
drawings made by the author. And this brings us to another of Roland
Bainton's remarkable talents—his ability to draw and sketch, even to
the making of cartoons and caricatures. Though I studied with him
only one year, I have long known him as a colleague in a theological
discussion group meeting twice a year, first at New Haven and then at
Washington. (This group used to be known as "the younger the
ologians" until with the advance of the years this term became highly
anachronistic!) Many a time I have seen him busy with his pen or
pencil while a more loquacious brother went on at length defending
the truth. Taking notes? Doubtless he was taking note of all that was
going on, for his subsequent observations so indicated. But what his
fingers were doing was drawing a picture, accenting the most salient
and not always the most complimentary features of the speaker.
This talent was put to rich use in his happy relations with his chil
dren. Anyone who has visited the former Bainton home at Wood-
bridge will recall the lovely Heidi murals, painted by him all over
the walls of the basement as the children were growing up. I do not
recall their details—only the impression that any child would be
fortunate to have this kind of locus of activities provided by this kind
of father. One who has had even a marginal contact with this active,
merry, wholesome family has recognized the close-knit nature of its
bonds.
This skill in line drawing is evident also in Pilgrim Parson. Not only
are the Bainton ministerial forebears—six of them in two generations
—sketched in pen and ink, but one sees "the Americanization of Her
bert Bainton" as he learns to peel apples for canning and run the old
style washing machine, Father reading poetry as in successive stages he
falls asleep in his chair, Father weeding and digging and thus main
taining his deep-seated British love of a garden.
What is lacking in this book, though whether it is extant elsewhere
I have no knowledge, is a picture of Roland Bainton himself on his
bicycle! Encased in an enveloping tarpaulin to shield both man and
bicycle from the rain, he rides to and from his classes in scorn of
weather. The dust jacket of Pilgrim Parson says of its author, "He is
an incorrigible individualist who persists in riding a bicycle twenty
miles a day (he insists that he likes it); a water-colorist and caricaturist;
and a do-it-yourselfer 'who enjoys fixing everything in the home with
the exception of major plumbing.' "
One of his devoted former students has given me a word picture not
only of the tarpaulin-clad bicycle but of Professor Bainton transporting
a mattress on the same bicycle with equipoise. The do-it-yourself item
gains concreteness from another who has told me of calling at his home
in the country and finding him alternating between the labors of clean
ing the septic tank and preparing the index for Here I Stand. And as
for individualism, the class arrived in the seminar room one day to
find him lying on the floor with a handkerchief over his eyes. Dead? A
stroke, or some other serious illness? By no means. Just an early arrival
with a little leisure for an extra bit of restl
Such items may indicate that Bainton is "a character." He is a
lovable, scholarly, deeply Christian character. For forty years he has
l8 REFORMATION STUDIES
poured himself not only into historical research and writing but into
his students. Few if any have ever studied closely with him without
feeling themselves not only better informed and better instructed but
better men and women for his outgoing friendliness and the warmth
of his personality. Had he written nothing at all in his "passion for
perfection," his would still have been a great life, worthy of the tribute
being paid to him by the contributions to scholarship appearing in
this volume.
Roland Bainton has taught, and written, and lived in a crucial
epoch of the twentieth century, and in so doing he has touched the
lives and quickened the minds of an innumerable host of persons. Be
cause of him large segments of human life—in the family, in the
church, in the nation, and around the world—have been stirred to
greater wisdom and to finer living. Such a contribution is indisputable
evidence that one need not thrust himself into the limelight in order
to shed the light of Christian truth and love toward ever widening
horizons.
ESSAYS ON LUTHER
Faith and Knowledge
in Luther's Theology
N. Arne Bendtz
Luther's theologizing is not without its presupposition. It is tied to

the Christian doctrines and the traditions of the Church. Now, if this
doctrinal substance should be at variance with the premises he had
reached through the inference of reason and experience, where should
the highest authority be placed? Has faith priority over knowledge
or knowledge over faith? Or are they related to each other in such a
way that a conflict between them is only an expression of man's be
clouded creatureliness? These questions are crucial to a true under
standing of Luther's theology. In spite of the fact that Luther often
has been called an "anti-intellectualist," it is the aim of this paper to
show that Luther operates in his thinking both as a philosophical
realist and as a religious fideist. Is this radical contrariness of the realist
and the fideist elements actually resolved in Luther? No. But it is con
tinually being mediated. It is mediated by Christ. In him the human
realm and the divine realm coexist. Christ affirms both realms as God
and man. God, as the creative word, is of the same fabric with man,
and our experience is identical with the reality of God's being; the
difference here is one of degree alone. But Christ is also transcendent,
of one substance with the Father, the redemptive word. God is here
totally different from the structure of the life of man and man's own
understanding of it. Thus, in Christ both realism and fideism are to
be affirmed as valid.
I. Luther—the Realist
Often Luther asserts that man has a certain knowledge of God. This
knowledge of God has a certain ontological basis. He does not object
to an investigation of reason in this field. On a few occasions he gives a
rational demonstration of the existence of God. From the beauty and
order of the universe man can by inferences know of the existence of
the Creator.1 His eternal power and Godhead are known by the benefits
bestowed by him. The law of mutual assistance rules in creation. Men

as well as animals mutually assist each other. But the opposite is also
true. The stronger oppresses the weaker. But "there exists in the world
the highest being who is exalted over all and assists all."2
This affirmation of man's knowledge of God is an eclipsed heritage
from the ancestors.3 A pious father must have taught his children to
pray to God at the rising of the sun and to return thanks for such a
marvelous and miraculous light, illuminating and sustaining every
thing. But the idolatrous children must have addressed their prayers
to the sun itself.4
The idea that the reality of God can be understood by his works is
repeated over and over again. He elaborates greatly on this subject in
his commentary on the Epistle of Paul to the Romans. God's invisible
qualities, the Godhead, the eternal power, have been made visible to
all men. This is evident from the worship of all men through the ages.
Man by making himself idols acknowledges that he believes in an im
mortal power who is able to help him. "They have the idea of God
in their hearts."5 If man has no substantial knowledge of who God is,
he would not be able to have a consciousness of a divine reality. Man
knows that the Deity is powerful, wise, righteous, good, and merciful
towards those who invoke him. Consequently, this knowledge must
have been given man by God.
In Luther's exposition of the prophet Jonah, he stresses the fact that
the world knows and reason perceives that God is exalted and superior
to all. This is demonstrated by the invocation of God by all pagan
religions. So when Epicurus and Plinus deny the existence of God, they
behave like fools by plugging their ears and covering their eyes to
escape from hearing and seeing. They forcibly darken their understand
ing, but in spite of it they cannot escape the light in their troubled
consciences. Man knows that God can save him from all evil. "This
natural light of reason extends so far that it perceives God as good,
gracious, and merciful. It is a great light."6
Not much weight is attached to the stringency of the demonstration
of this natural knowledge of God. Luther reckons with an inherent
God-consciousness in the nature of man in line with the general ideas
of Scholasticism.7 Man knows by analogical inferences that God exists,
that he has created the world, rules man's destiny, and bestows all good
gifts.8 Because of this knowledge of God, man also knows that it is his
duty to worship God. Thus the commandments of the decalogue and
the commandment of worship have both been inscribed in man's soul.
It is indeed interesting to observe how far Luther sometimes can go
FAITH AND KNOWLEDGE IN LUTHER'S THEOLOGY 23
in recognizing man's knowledge of God unaided by revelation. It is

raised above all doubts that man's knowledge leads him to the accept
ance of the existence of God. Man's knowledge is in principle a true
knowledge and a true idea of God. Man knows that God is gracious
and merciful and that all good things come from him. All pagan re
ligions have basically a true conception of God.9
Man's knowledge of God goes so far that man knows what God is in
himself. The meaning of this formulation is that man perceives God's
eternal power and his metaphysical properties.10 Man, unaided by
faith, has a true metaphysical knowledge of God. The philosophers are
right in their rational development of God as the Lord of all things.
They discuss and treat God and Providence very skillfully.11
Man's knowledge of God includes the awareness of the will of God.
To this moral awareness, God presents himself as a relentless demand
ing Will who recompenses according to deserts. This knowledge is ap
plied in temporal things. It leads to the best in political and civil
affairs. It possesses great discernment in all temporal things.12 This
knowledge is based upon experience. Here truth consists in the agree
ment and conformity of the fact of God with man's intellectual per
ception. Man's soul receives impression by the senses of the outward
and visible facts of God. The intellect through abstraction creates the
concepts. These concepts are the substantial forms, or beings, that
dwell in the particular thing. Consequently, Luther is here a typical
realist, i.e., the universal is according to its nature before the particu
lar. But his process of knowledge is reversed, i.e., from the particular
to the universal.
II. Luther—the Fideist

According to Harnack,13 Luther asserted no antagonism between
faith and knowledge in the realm of revelation. His attack was not
directed against the operation of reason as an aid to knowledge but
against reason in the sense of work righteousness. But the antagonism
between faith and knowledge in Luther is not limited to a dismissal
of knowledge insofar as it revolts against the doctrine of salvation
through faith. Luther, during his whole career, asserted a radical
antagonism between faith and knowledge. More than once he expresses
himself in the sense that faith would lose its unique quality in propor
tion to the degree in which it was based upon knowledge. It belongs
to the concept of faith that it is contrary to human knowledge. Faith
is not needed if knowledge has been attained.14 Faith is never based
upon knowledge, but upon obedience to God's Word.
f
There are all conceivable degrees of contrast between faith and

knowledge. The contrast can be formulated thus: Man never knows
God's will toward him.15 Man cannot know the love which made God
send his Son to the world for its salvation. Nor can human knowledge
vanquish the anxiety of conscience and fear of death.16 Therefore,
knowledge must be mortified, its eyes pricked out. Knowledge must be
beaten down by acts wrought by faith to overcome the contempt of
God, to purge unbelief and grumbling over his wrath.17 Faith yields
to God's Word, even though human knowledge considers it foolish
and absurd. Faith receives the message that he who wants to appease
God must believe in the Son who suffered on the cross. But human
knowledge, in terms of a moral sense, objects: Have I then labored
to no profit? Here the radical antagonism and enmity between faith
and knowledge is expressed.
The antagonism of knowledge to faith in terms of the incapacity
of man to enter into the mind of God and to conceive how God
could humble himself and suffer is also asserted in other contexts.
Human knowledge cannot perceive the reason for the existence of
sin. Nor can it comprehend why death is to be inflicted as punish
ment of sin. It is absurd and preposterous that sentence should be
passed over acts and deeds which men are driven to by an inescapable
necessity. Human knowledge blames the potter for the bad result
and not the earthen vessels.18
Human knowledge is unable to enter into the mind of God and
find salvation. In spite of this fact it is "very presumptuous and dashes
along like a blind horse." It takes cobwebs to weave garments, sand
to bake bread. It measures air with spoons and transports light in cups.
It sows the wind and reaps the whirlwind.19
Human knowledge cannot concretely assimilate the truth of faith.
It has not the ability to draw the practical consequences. It cannot
trust in God's care. For faith receives everything from God's hand—
adversity, prosperity, life, death, heaven, and hell.20 Here the an
tagonism between faith and knowledge is of a practical sort. Human
knowledge cannot digest the thoughts of faith in a living way. It faces
a stone wall in God's mysterious dealings in life. It cannot compre
hend why the Son of God should be victorious by suffering and dying
or why and how man is to be brought to God through the inferno of
tribulations and humiliation of spirit.21
From a rational point of view, many of the Christian doctrines are
preposterous. They contain contradictions and proclaim things over
and above human knowledge. At this point Luther, the fideist, is in
open conflict with Luther, the realist. He asserts that the attempts of
the higher schools to arrive at an understanding of the concepts have
led to miserable results in the field of religion. The learned concepts
do not make man wiser. The efforts of Scholasticism to comprehend
the mystery of the person of Christ have not brought the church closer
to the truth, nor have they given added clarity to the subject. In spite
of these ideas, Luther, on other occasions, makes use of the whole
learned apparatus of Scholasticism.
There are articles of faith in Holy Writ that have been placed above
human knowledge by God. They are the doctrines of the Trinity, the
Incarnation, the sacraments, regeneration through baptism, resurrec
tion of the body.22 Believers are not "such ducks and geese" that they
are not aware of the contradiction involved in the doctrine of the three
separate persons in the divine Being. "God is One . . . and yet there
exists with God, the Son and the Holy Spirit. We must let God him
self answer how his unity can be preserved under these circum
stances."23
Furthermore, the contradiction between faith and knowledge is ob
vious regarding the doctrine of the person of Christ. God is eternal,
yet he is dead. "It must be the Devil and his Mama." A man, Jesus,
created heaven and earth. These are the logical consequences of the
doctrine of the two natures of Christ. They lead to inescapable con
tradictions which nonetheless must be accepted.24
The skill of logic employed by human knowledge leads to wrong
results when applied to faith. A conclusion drawn upon two true
premises may be wrong. All of the Divine essence is in the Father.
The Son is of the Divine essence. Consequently, the Son is the Father.
But this conclusion would not be dogmatically correct. The majesty
of the subject renders it impossible to master the dogmatic questions
with the skill of logic Luther does not elaborate in detail concern
ing the use of logic in the field of theology. But logic must be rejected
if it leads to statements that are contrary to the doctrines of Holy
Scripture. By pursuing the path of human knowledge, Karlstadt has
laid waste the whole realm of faith. By drawing the conclusion that
man receives only bread in Holy Communion, and that Christ's body
is now located in heaven, he dashes into the Scriptures with unwashed
feet.25
It is absolutely necessary in the divine-human relationship that a
Word should be given that surpasses human knowledge. Adam and
Eve had a true knowledge of God in Paradise, but in spite of it God
gave them a divine Word above human knowledge "which it was
necessary to embrace in faith," i.e., the Word concerning the tree of

knowledge.26 This Word also became the source of temptation. All
temptations begin by the attempt of human knowledge "without the
Word to interpret God and the Word of God." It is as fruitless to
comprehend God by sheer human knowledge as it is to overarch the
heavens with one's fingers. Regarding the articles of faith, human
knowledge is unable to handle the subject and only the appropriation
of faith is fitting.27
Man must submit himself under the revealed and spoken Word. He
must act in faith that God's Word is true although it may seem foolish.
By following his own knowledge he cannot hear God's speech, but
only his own muttering. Critical knowledge admits that God is too
high for man. Thus it is foolish to strive after knowledge of God,
apart from God's speech to men in Christ.28 It is fruitless to torment
oneself with morbid broodings and speculations to reach the divine
realm. Human knowledge cannot encompass it. But the articles of
faith have been given in Holy Writ. And they must be received as
they have been written. The articles of faith are true and real al
though they cannot be handled by human knowledge.
The antagonism between faith and knowledge cannot be overcome
by another kind of knowledge of faith. The conflict between faith
and knowledge concerning the doctrine of incarnation is not mitigated
by the growth of faith. To be sure, the growth of faith can strengthen
the trust on God's promise. But the absurdity of faith remains an
tagonistic to human knowledge.29
Luther, indeed, refutes the use of human knowledge in his affirma
tion about God and his will toward men. God is totally different from
the structure of the life of man and man's own understanding of it.
Therefore human knowledge is incapable of entering into the mind
of God and of conceiving how God could humble himself and suffer.
Hence, God is beyond and above anything that man can experience.
He is the totally Other.
III. How Are Faith and Knowledge Co-ordinated in Luther?

The relationship between faith and knowledge was intensely dis
cussed during the Middle Ages. To a large extent Luther seems to
move within the framework of Scholasticism. Like Thomas Aquinas
he assigns the highest authority to faith. A proposition contrary to
revelation is false. God's metaphysical properties are accessible to
human knowledge. But there are mysteries which human knowledge
cannot fathom. "It is impossible to attain to the knowledge of the
>
/
Trinity by natural reason. ... By natural reason we can know of

God only that which of necessity belongs to Him as the cause of all
things, and we have used this as a fundamental principle in treating
of God. Now, the creative power of God is common to the whole
Trinity; and hence it belongs to the unity of the essence, and not to
the distinction of persons. Therefore, by natural reason we can know
what belongs to the unity of the essence, but not what belongs to
the distinction of the persons."30
Luther, on one occasion, mentions that the Trinity is mirrored in
the nature of things.31 Generally speaking, he is in agreement with
Thomas Aquinas regarding faith and knowledge. However, there is
an important difference. In Thomas, faith and reason are co-ordinated
through a rational synthesis based upon the doctrine of analogia entis.
There is no conflict between faith and knowledge but the latter must
be subordinated to the former. Human knowledge is an implement in
the service of faith, showing the groundlessness of objections to re
vealed doctrines. Luther is more cautious, and would tend to say that
human knowledge is not capable of clarifying what is meant by
analogy. The problem is whether the likeness of God is a matter of
degree or a matter of quality. Because of the qualitative difference,
Luther is forced to either one or the other of the extremes, either
faith or knowledge. Thus to Luther, radical analysis shows that faith
and knowledge are the two basic categories of predication. Can this
radical contrariness of faith and knowledge be resolved? Thomas at
tempted to resolve it by a rational synthesis. This is not possible for
Luther. Luther resolves the problem by mediation. It is mediated by
Christ. In him the human realm and the divine realm coexist. Christ
affirms both realms as true God and true man. Both faith and know
ledge are to be affirmed as valid.
They are held together by the form of Christ. This form is a sacri
ficial-sacramental structure and it shows Luther where and in what
respect he can use faith and where human knowledge must be the con
trolling factor. But faith and knowledge coexist and can be separated
only by an abstraction. They intermingle in the elements of every event
in the life of the believer. Thus Luther operates with a new type of
analogical method which is enlightened to the fact that it is in reality
a coexistence of faith and knowledge—not an analogy of being but an
analogy of existence.
To Luther it is obvious that human nature has an inherent con
sciousness of God, and he is of the conviction that the order and beauty
of creation point to the Creator. But he also continually emphasizes
that human knowledge cannot acknowledge the way of salvation by

faith. It is the moral consciousness of man that rebels against the idea
of a salvation by faith without meritoriousness and worthiness. Even
though, from a logical point of view, it could be shown that the doc
trine of forgiveness does not contain objectionable elements, it is still
over and above human knowledge. No one can find the divine for
giveness for Christ's sake without a sure word from God himself. Na
ture, history, man's inner being, testify to something quite different
than to divine grace. Nothing in experience lends support to faith in
God's mercy. No skill of logic is able to disclose it. Only through the
Word is it unveiled.
Faith employs theoretical judgment. But these theoretical judgments
are procured independently of analogical inferences and human ex
perience. However, the notion of God is a part of human experience.
In spite of this right notion of God, man localizes God's revelation in
correctly. Human knowledge cannot by itself find or appropriate it.
Therefore a knowledge of another dimension must be laid bare. For
this reason, human knowledge, without the clear Word of God re
garding the need of a mediator, is sheer darkness. The new knowledge
comes through the gospel. This is a new light. This is not a new logic
but new thoughts. Man must accept what God in his gospel communi
cates about himself. Human knowledge provides information about the
visible life, the earthly life. But man is directed to God's Word for true
knowledge of God and the eternal life. This opens a new field of
knowledge which does not correspond to the domains of human
knowledge.
However, this religious knowledge is in a certain sense co-ordinated
with other branches of knowledge. Faith is not an atheoretical act.
Luther does not separate faith and knowledge and place them on dif
ferent levels in the sense that faith should just be a practical act. All
truths mutually harmonize, although the same proposition might not
be true in all the various branches of science. That the Word became
flesh cannot possibly be true in the field of human knowledge. But it
is true in the science of theology. The knowledge of faith enters into
conflict with the rules of human knowledge. And human knowledge
collides with the valid rules of faith. Even in the other branches of
science examples can be found that what is true in one science is not
necessarily valid in the other. That moisture is moist is true in the
science of meteorology, but it is obviously not true in the science of
fire. This exhibition of parallels regarding the contradiction between
the knowledge of faith and human knowledge would be senseless if
FAITH AND KNOWLEDGE IN LUTHER S THEOLOGY 29
Luther did not hold that the articles of faith were a kind of knowledge
as well as the propositions of human knowledge.32
The truth communicated by Holy Writ is a kind of knowledge like
the other branches of science. But Luther only indirectly discusses the
nature and the co-ordination of this knowledge to other branches of
knowledge. Although it is not directly based upon experience and
cannot be logically demonstrated, and although it is only uncovered
through the divine self-disclosure, the two kinds of knowledge are
mediated in terms of the form of Christ. The form of Christ is related
to wholeness of the believer's existence who lives at the same time in
the realms of human knowledge and faith knowledge. This form is a
sacrificial-sacramental structure. This structure is the God-engendered
means whereby the tension of the full reality in man's existence be
tween the abiding power of hybris and faith knowledge, concerning
the forgiveness of sin, is maintained. Grace, therefore, is both God's
knowledge of man's desperate situation and also his power to help.
In this process the believer is forced into the form of Christ, a life in
continual conflict with the desperate situation of hybris. God permits
hybris to remain in the world as a fire that never goes out to keep the
believer dependent upon God's mercy through which God's mighty
actions are revealed. Therefore the form of Christ is God's medium
through which he forces the believer into experiences of intellectual,
physical, spiritual insufficiency for which there is absolutely no pro
vision or help to be had from man-made resources in terms of human
knowledge, but only from God, which necessitates faith knowledge.
Finally, we raise the question again. Is the radical contrariness of
faith knowledge and human knowledge resolved in Luther? No. But
it is being mediated. It is mediated by Christ. In him the human realm
and the divine realm coexist. Christ affirms both realms as God and
man. Christ is both immanent, of one substance with men in terms
of the creative Word, and transcendent, of one substance with the
Father in terms of the redemptive Word. Both faith knowledge and
human knowledge are to be affirmed as valid. They coexist in every
element of every event in the existence of the believer. And so a new
type of analogical method is actually practiced by Luther which is en
lightened to the fact that it is in reality a coexistence of faith know
ledge and human knowledge, not an analogy of being but an analogy
of existence.
A Reasonable Luther
Robert H. Fischer
As is very well known, Luther called reason a nasty, nasty word.

Forthwith the friends of reason have taken counsel together. Some
have determined never to speak to the cad again. Some would wash
out his mouth with soap and demand an apology. Some would insti
tute a libel suit. Others sigh at Luther's one-sidedness, but urge that
a reconciliation be worked out, feeling that the two would make such
a handsome couple.
Perhaps if we understood Luther better, we might find that he is not
an irrationalist, not even irrational, not even particularly unreasonable.
There are a number of reasons why it is often difficult for Luther's
theology to get a reasonable hearing in the Anglo-Saxon world. The
most elemental rebuff comes from what we may call the "What-else-
can-you-expect?" school. What reasonable theology can you expect
from a German peasant so uncouth as to say, "If God commanded
me to eat dung, I would do it"?1 Or so superstitious as to fling ink
bottles at devil apparitions? Or so bullheadedly dogmatic as to re
fuse Zwingli's gentlemanly handclasp at Marburg, or to assert that if
God should declare two and five are eight, "then I would believe it
against my reason"? What can you expect from a man who, as Lord
Vansittart, Dean Inge, and Thomas Mann assure us, is the ancestor
of Nazism?
Secondly there is the "Anybody-knows" school. Why take this man's
theology seriously? Anybody knows that man has a genuine free will,
and that if sin is the diametrical opposite of goodness, it is nonsense
to say that the best men sin in their best works. Anybody knows that
a body can't be in two places at the same time. The law can't be both
the holy, good gift of God, and the tyrannical enemy of God, at the
same time. Why take this man seriously, moreover, when one can
prove anything from him? We may tolerate paradoxes, if necessary,
but must we put up with provoking contradictions and pathetic in
consistencies? The late Anglican scholar, H. Maynard Smith, used to
quip that it is not difficult to understand any one of Luther's writings,
A REASONABLE LUTHER 31
unless one compares it with any of his other writingsl A sparkling epi
gram, no doubt, but a sophomoric judgment.
If all one needs is an excuse to ignore Luther's theology, these
will do. Of course, these reasons are beneath the dignity of scholar
ship. But one can find scholarly reasons for quickly disposing of
Luther's theology. To a modern epistemologist, Luther is irrational.
To a practical churchman, he is irrelevant. To a systematician, he is
irresponsible.
The late Douglas Clyde Macintosh was an extreme spokesman for
the epistemological dismissal of Luther. Satisfied of the "impartiality
and reasonableness of God," Macintosh needs to waste no words on
Luther, nor for that matter on Calvin. He does waste many words on
their sons Kierkegaard, Barth, Tillich, and others, but in the end he
uses a convenient Dispos-all for the whole plate of garbage: "Reac- 1
tionary Irrationalism."2
How does one account for the complacent way in which Anglo-
Saxon scholars dismiss Luther in the realm of practical churchman-
ship? Well, he is German: irrelevant for us. Secondly, once Ernst
Troeltsch has convinced us that Luther's theology and ethic are es
sentially medieval, it is unreasonable for us to take them seriously.
Again, earnest moralists often fear that Luther (like St. Paul) ignores
or undermines morality. Wesley, you recall, accused Luther of "a total
ignorance with regard to sanctification." 3 In the same way, strenuous
empiricists fear that Luther was too dogmatic or mystical to respect
common sense. The net effect of these charges, in solo or in concert,
is that Luther's thought is quite irrelevant for our modern church
and public life.
From the systematician's point of view, we often hear it said con
descendingly: Luther just wasn't much of a thinker. This was the
implication of A. C. McGiffert's Protestant Thought Before Kant.*
Today students read in Norman Sykes' The Crisis of the Reformation
that defective education and limited learning made Luther ill-
equipped to frame a new system of sound doctrine, nor did his polem
ics with the radicals "produce a state of intellectual calm suitable to
the careful pondering of fundamental theological questions."(!)B
Here then we have three scholarly methods, to name no more, for
bringing Luther to trial for his attitude toward reason. Three methods,
with a common result: the easy disposal of Luther's theology.
A funny thing, though. Luther's theology has a way of not staying
disposed of. This the historian can prove from recent books by the
Protestant Heinrich Bornkamm and the Roman Catholics Adolf Herte
J8 REFORMATION STUDIES
and Ernst Zeeden, who have traced the compulsion of age upon age
to wrestle with this Luther's thought. This the theologian can cor
roborate, for example, if he is alive to present-day ecumenical think
ing, especially Faith and Order discussions. For the churchman and
the social thinker, too, signs are emerging that Luther's practical
thought may yet yield some surprisingly creative insights.
Suppose we ask ourselves, then: How reasonable is Luther?
In a sense, this is a very unreasonable way to state the question. It
may imply that reason is the maiden and Luther the suitor. But con
vinced as he is that the damsel is no Lily Maid, Luther no doubt
would hardly thank anyone for appointing himself to the role of go-
between. Again, the question may imply that reason is the judge and
Luther the defendant. But this is a part of the problem to be solved,
not an axiom to be assumed at the beginning.
On the other hand, since my intentions here are modest, I shall
allow the question to stand. I shall confine myself in this essay to an
apologetic against the charge that Luther's theology is consciously ir
rational or unconsciously unreasonable and inconsistent, and an in
timation that he is still very much worth listening to in his own terms.
n
Against the authority of Church and empire at Worms Luther took
his stand. The significant thing there is not the assertion that he stood
upon his conscience, but the question of what his conscience stood
upon.
According to his well-known statement, it appealed to Scripture
and reason: yUnless convinced by testimonies of the scriptures or by
j clear reason, I will not recantl^ Doesn't this show clearly that for
Luther, as for the Middle Ages in general, Scriptures and reason are
• the twin sources of authority? The answer is no. Many years ago Hans
Preuss subjected Luther's formula to critical scrutiny.7 To summarize
Preuss briefly and a little too simply, Luther viewed the term ratio in
three ways: (1) Reason as logical method; this Luther unhesitatingly
approved. He had to use it in the oftener-than-weekly disputations at
the university. In his controversies with Erasmus and Zwingli, Luther
frequently argued not that his opponents were too rational, but that
they were not rational enoughl—guilty of defective logic and even
misunderstanding of grammar. In many instances he makes good his
point; in others he is less convincing. But in any case, such a procedure
belies the charge that Luther shrank from or flouted reason as a tool
y
of argumentation. (2) Reason as the presupposition and the normative

principle of all social and cultural life. Here the term includes what
we would call "common sense." This too he approved, freely acknowl
edging the wisdom of Aristotle, and for that matter Aesop, in this
realm.
And it is certainly true that reason is the most important and the
highest in rank among all things and, in comparison with other
things of this life, the best and something divine. It is the inventor
and mentor of all the arts, medicine, law, and of whatever wisdom,
power, virtue, and glory men possess in this life. By virtue of this
fact it ought to be named the essential difference by which man is
distinguished from the animals and other things. Holy Scripture also
makes it lord over the.earth, birds, fish, and cattle, saying, "Have do
minion." That is, that it is a sun and a kind of god appointed to ad
minister these things hi this life. Nor did God after the fall of Adam
take away this majesty of reason, but rather confirmed it.8
Luther urged that abler people are needed in the professions of law >
and political administration than are needed in the office of preach-
ingl—"For in the preaching office Christ does the whole thing, by
His Spirit, but in worldly government one must use reason. . . . There
fore governing is harder. . . . "9 Indeed, in so far as the church is
an empirical institution, it too operates in the realm and under the
norms of law and reason, not of some alleged revelation or esoteric
principles.10 (3) Reason as the basic principle and norm in the sphere
of salvation: here reason is a whore!11 Why?
Luther's attack upon reason in religion came partly from Occamism.
He agreed with the Occamists that philosophy and theology are sep
arate realms, and that the causality principle cannot automatically
penetrate the latter. But Luther's attack differed fundamentally from
Occamism's. Occamism approached theology by way of epistemology;
Luther criticized epistemology, as we shall see, by means of the "the
ology of the cross." Faith for Occamism is a natural human achieve
ment; its activity is a blind assent to prescribed dogma. Faith for
Luther is a wondrous, supernatural gift of God; its activity is a per
sonal, responsible life of trust in the God who has come to us in Jesus
Christ. Occamism did not consider reason in the realm of salvation
a wicked woman, but simply a trespasser in a sphere beyond her com
petence. Luther considered reason in the realm of salvation a harlot
who seduces men away from trust in the true God.
Our reason knows that God is. But who and what He is, who actually
is God, that reason does not know. . . . The Jews . . . knew that Christ
was among them and walked with the people. But who He was, they
^ did not know. ... So reason plays blind man's buff with God and
makes always mistakes, and misses every time, calling that God which
is not God and again not calling Him God who really is God. Reason
would not do either if it did not know that God is, or if on the other
hand it knew who or what He is. . . . Therefore in trying so hard,
reason gives God's name an honor to whatever it considers is God,
but never finds him who is really God, but always the devil or its own
vanity which is ruled by the devil.12
Luther, I said, did not come to this theological view by way of philo-
.sophical epistemology. Rather, he criticized epistemology by means
» of his theology of the cross. This expression does not signify a special
topic in Luther's theology, viz., an aspect of his Christology; it is a par
ticular approach to theology, standing in diametrical contrast to what
he calls "theology of glory." The titles refer to the window through
which the theologian chooses to look in understanding his God. The
ology of the cross means that we find God by his gracious coming down
to us, disclosing himself to us especially in the cross of Christ; the
ology of glory is the human ascent of rational or mystical specula
tion or ethical idealism, which sets theologians to prattling about
God's essence and his formal attributes "as a cobbler prattles about
his leather."13 Theology of the cross finds God's self-revelation in con
crete historical events; theology of glory looks for it by abstracting
"pure," timeless, "spiritual" knowledge from all taint of material and
historical contingency. Theology of the cross does "see" or "know"
God, in the biblical sense, but what it sees is not God's face but God's
posteriora (Exodus 33:18-23). "Show us the Father," said Philip, asking
for a theology of glory. "He who has seen me has seen the Father," re
plied Jesus with a theology of the cross—an answer, by the way, which
Philip could not grasp with his reason (in the time of John's chapter
14) but only with his faith (in the light of chapter 20).u
Theology of the cross "sees" or "knows" God, then, in faith, not in
reason, for when God has come into history definitively in Jesus Christ,
he has come veiled—i.e., contrary to all reasonable expectation and
comprehension—in infirmity and lowliness and suffering. He came to
the lowly and suffering—to people where they need him. So, too,
Christ deals with his followers as his Father dealt with him; he re
deems them by "leading them down into hell and bringing them
back" (see I Sam. 2:6), and he sends them forth into a ministry of
reconciliation like his own, which reconciles by means of a "lost love"
—a love that carries the burden which evil causes but refuses to carry,
all the while never ceasing to be love.15
It was this theology that shaped Luther's conception of reason. His
S"">
attack was directed against reason's efforts to storm the citadel of God. '
It was also a keen defense against the redeemed Christian's temptation
to let his reason infiltrate the citadel of faith, producing out of "re
vealed" materials a "theological system" which automatically preserves
and reproduces faith or promises us something more certain than faith.
But this attitude toward reason can hardly be called "irrationalism." -
Luther thinks it is what St. Paul meant by "the wisdom of God."
"Scripture and clear reason," then, means the incomprehensible good
news in Jesus Christ, plus whatever consequences can be reasonably
drawn therefrom, directly and necessarily, without the intrusion of
alien principles—especially of would-be autonomous reason.
In this light we can test Luther's reasonableness at the points where
he has been accused of being most unreasonable: (1) his alleged con- ,
tempt for mathematics, (2) his doctrine of the enslaved will and pre
destination, (3) his doctrine of the Lord's Supper. In view of persistent
misunderstandings of his social ethics, it would also be useful to exam
ine the "practical reason" in Luther, but we shall forego this inasmuch
as the charge of unreasonableness is less frequently encountered in this
realm.16
Ill
First the famous "two and five are eight" passage. It stands in a
sermon on the Second Article of the Creed. The wondrous person of
Jesus Christ holds Luther transfixed, and permanently baffles his rea
son. Notice the context and the accent of this argument over numbers.
Luther is speaking about what God hypothetically may do, but it is
clear that his interest is consumingly centered upon what God actually
has done. God has commanded men to use their reason to the utmost
in subduing nature and bringing order into the common life. But it
is different in "matters which I cannot control with my wisdom":
I hear that Christ has one divine essence with the Father. And yet it
is true that there is no more than one God. Where shall I grope or
grasp, start or finish? It sounds ridiculous in my ears, and does not
penetrate my reason. Yes, and it should not penetrate it! Rather, I
should reply: if I hear the Word coming down from above, I believe
it even though I cannot grasp it and cannot understand it. Nor do I
wish to get it into my head, in the same way that I can grasp with my
reason that two and five are seven,—and nobody can show me other
wise. But if He spoke from above and said, 'No, but they are eight,' I
should believe it against my reason, and feel: All right!—if / want to
be the judge, I won't believe! As for myself, though, I shall believe
him who is the judge and arbiter. This you should do here also, even
though reason cannot bear it that two persons are one God. That
sounds as if I said: two are not two, but two are one. Here you have
the Word and reason in direct opposition. Reason should not assume
the position of master, nor act like a judge or doctor, but should doff
its cap and say: two are one; I do not see it or understand it, but I
believe it. Why? For the sake of him who has spoken it to us from
above. If it came from me, or if reason tried to say it, no man would
make me believe it. I would shove mathematics under his nose and
show him that he should accept it, that he must yield to me. But
when it comes down from heaven, I will believe what he tells me, that
two—yes, that all three persons are just one true God, not two or
three Gods.17
IV
The same Christological motif determines Luther's use of reason
» in his fight with Erasmus. Contrary to a common impression that he
deduced the bondage of man's will from the metaphysical principle
that God causes all things, Luther's views about both the enslaved
will and God's providence and predestination were derived from—
and to be limited by—God's revelation in Jesus Christ.18 This con
troversy over free will, then, concerned salvation, not information;
it was no exaggeration of an obscure and unimportant doctrine, but
a matter of life and death.19 Luther's treatise, moreover, was no ex
treme or immature retort; the views of Luther that Erasmus chose
to attack had been developed and tested in open discussion for almost
a decade. Nor was Luther's rejoinder colored by personal animosity
or temperamental excitability.20 He knew exactly what he wanted to
say, and he felt confident of his superiority in the argument as long
as the agreed premise was the scriptural doctrine of the will.
Erasmus had accused Luther of all sorts of absurdities. If God causes
all things including evil, then God is not just. If God is as incompre
hensible as Luther's doctrine of predestination purports him to be,
then Luther has no right to make so many dogmatic statements about
him. If man is under necessity to sin, if he is a driven beast, then man
cannot be said to sin, for he is not responsible. Or if man's will is
"nothing," then it can do nothing, even evil. If the will is not free,
then the scriptural commandments, exhortations, and promises of re
ward are absurd.
Erasmus' critique neither caught Luther off guard nor drove him
to irrational extremes. The critique would have been devastating if
Erasmus' humanistic premises had been sound. He assumed, for ex
ample, that (1) man's soul naturally aspires to good; (2) man's will
I
A REASONABLE I.UTHER 37
must be free, else it is not will; (3) God is essentially comprehensible;

no statement about him that is basically unreasonable can be true;
(.j) Scripture is essentially reasonable, and where it appears otherwise
it requires reinterpretation.21 But these premises are not axioms of
reason; they are metaphysical and religious affirmations!—dogmatic
"assertions" from a man who disparaged dogmatizing!22 If these prem
ises proved vulnerable, the critique drawn from them would simply
fall apart; at best, Erasmus' attack could convict Luther of errors, but
not dismiss his argumentation as absurd.
Luther's reply constitutes no retreat from reason. He scorns the
suspicion that he flouts the laws of identity and contradiction; "what
is more impossible," he asks, "than that the same number may be both
nine and ten at the same time"?23 Moreover, he does not doubt that
man has and always retains a psychological power of choice, and that
even the worst man remains man, with a very active will. When Luther
speaks of the will as a "nothing" or as a ridden "beast," however, the
issue is not whether man has a choice, but what determines his choices
and how far man has this will in his own power "before God," i.e.,
confronted by God's judgment or grace. Commenting on John 15:5,
I Corinthians 13:2, etc., Luther says, with considerable psychological
sensitivity:
I am awarp that an 11ncrnn'lv will j< a tnmrthina. and t1nt a mpre non
entity! . . . [But] he who is without charity is 'nothing' in grace.24
A man without the Spirit of God does not do evil against his will, un
der pressure, as though he were taken by the scruiE of the neck and
dragged into it . . . but he does it spontaneously and voluntarily. And
this willingness or volition is something which he cannot in his own
strength eliminate, restrain, or alter. He goes on willing and desiring
to do evil; and if external pressure forces him to act otherwise, never
theless his will within remains averse to so doing and chafes under
such constraint and opposition. . . . Ask experience how impervious
to dissuasion are U1ose whose hearts are set on anytl1ing! . . ,
On the other hand: when God works in us, the will is changed under
the sweet influence of the Spirit of God. Once more it desires and
acts, not of compulsion, but of its own desire and spontaneous in
clination. Its bent still cannot be altered by any opposition; it cannot
be mastered or prevailed upon even by the gates of hell; but it goes
on willing, desiring, and loving good, just as once it willed, desired,
and loved evil. Experience proves this too. How firm and invincible
are holy men, who, when forcibly constrained to sin, are the more
provoked thereby to desire good—even as flames are fanned, rather
than quenched, by the wind. Here, too, there is no freedom, no 'free
will', to turn elsewhere, or to desire anything else, as long as the
Spirit and grace of God remain in a man.
Thus, when we are captives of Satan,

We acquiesce in his rule willingly and readily, according to the na
ture of willingness, which, if constrained, is not 'willingness'; for con
straint means rather, as one would say, 'unwillingness' (noluntas).
But if a stronger appears, and overcomes Satan, we are once more
servants and captives, but now desiring and willingly doing what He
wills—which is royal freedom.
So man's will is like a beast standing between two riders. If God rides,
it wills and goes where God wills. ... If Satan rides, it wills and goes
where Satan wills. Nor may it choose to which rider it will run, or
which it will seek; but the riders themselves fight to decide who shall
have and hold it.25
Actually, man thereby becomes no block or stone; "God does not
work in us without us," but precisely works in us that we co-operate
with him.28
If anyone is an obscurantist here, refusing to apply his mind to ul
timate problems, it is not Luther but Erasmus. On page after page,
often with telling effect, Luther spotlights Erasmus' dilettantism in
regard to Scripture and his fuzziness about God's justice and compre-
hensibility and man's powers. Erasmus is caught not only in evasions
but also in self-contradictions,27 e.g., when he asserts both that "the
human will is wholly ineffective without grace" and that it "can apply
itself to those thines that lead to salvation."28 Tn the dphate over
Scripture, Luther often argues, Erasmus' advice "should have been
given to Moses and Paul before they wrote, and also to God himself."29
Luther at least applies his mind to the hilt and realistically wrestles
with the ultimate mystery of God and evil. He is driven to acknowl
edge, as Augustine and Aquinas also were, that the God of creation
and providence works all things, even evil, in the sense that all beings
exist and move only by his power. On the other hand, Luther is sure
that God is not the author of evil, and that God does not make sin
but rather makes use of evil instruments.30 Far from applying his
reason too little, it may be argued that he takes it too far: After dis
tinguishing between the revealed God and God hidden "in his own
nature and majesty," with whom we have nothing to do, Luther seems
to know more about the latter than he has any right to know:
God hidden in Majesty neither deplores nor takes away death, but
works life, and death, and all in all: nor has He set bounds to Him
self by His Word, but has kept Himself free over all things.31
It might have been clearer if he had said, as he often does in similar
circumstances, that it appears to our minds that God neither deplores
nor takes away death, etc. To claim to know what is true coram deo—
"before God," or "in God's sight"—does not mean claiming to see

with God's eyes, except in the sense of apprehending what God has
clearly revealed to the man who knows he stands coram deo. Other
wise one would be guilty of the "theology of glory" which Luther so
vehemently attacks. We may notice, then, (1) that "death" in this con
text is not identical with sin or evil; the discussion concerns Ezekiel
18:23, "God does not desire the death of a sinner";32 and (2) concern
ing the limits of our knowledge of God, Luther offers the proper cor
rective even to Luther!—viz., we must hold closely to what God has
clearly revealed to us.83
Luther, meanwhile, felt impelled not only to assert the limits of rea
son's competence in matters of salvation but also to examine why rea
son forever tries to cross them. Why do the "wise" err in understand
ing this realm?, Erasmus asks.34 Luther acknowledges that reason is
the highest faculty of man, and maintains that it can understand
many things about God and nature and human nature. Time after
time he calls upon reason, experience, common sense, the common
man, nature, the world, the flesh—even "free willl"—to illustrate
and corroborate his assertions, sometimes remarking that these asser
tions would have to be acknowledged even apart from Scripture.35
But such insights operate in what would later be called the phe
nomenal realm; they do not penetrate the noumenal. The human
reason and will naturally seek happiness, but they never seek "life
and salvation" in the realistic and abiding sense that God intends.
To no one, Jews or great philosophers, did it ever occur that the way
to righteousness and salvation was simply to believe on Jesus Christ.36
For human reason has an inveterate drive to set itself up as the norm
of man's relation to God, and to define according to its own principles
how God must act; it measures God, and refuses to acknowledge his
works unless it can comprehend hoiu and why God does what he
does.37 In the last analysis, then,
Man's failure to grasp God's words does not spring from weakness of
understanding . . . No, the cause is the wickedness of Satan, who is
enthroned and reigns over us in our weakness, and who himself re
sists the Word of God.38
Here emerges the sharp contrast between Luther's and Erasmus'
views of reason. For Erasmus reason is a supratemporal thing, by defi
nition good; man becomes good by conforming to it, and to this eter
nal reason man's mind has free access. Since reason is itself from the
eternal realm, Erasmus felt no worry that he might be placing reason
above God. Thus in speaking of reason, Erasmus passed with ease
back and forth among logical discernment, human conception and

judgment, the orderliness of the world, and the mind of God. For
Luther this was an astonishing and, in view of the Scriptures, arrogant
dogmatism. He was keenly aware that our faculty of reason, though
undoubtedly divinely given, is humanly operated. The more gen
uinely personal the subject matter, the more fragmentary and fallible
are the results of reason. When we touch the realm of salvation, rea
son not only is fallible but persistently tends to become imperialistic
and dictatorial. Erasmus had a correct and important intuition in
discerning that Christianity is a way of life, not a dogmatic system,
and in desiring a psychologically comprehensible theology. But he com
mitted a fateful blunder in assuming that he could establish a Chris
tianity free of dogma, propagated by rational instruction—eruditio—
and arbitrated by sovereign reason. Luther was convinced that Chris
tian faith is a crucially different matter from erudition even at its most
"spiritual." Faith involves the whole being of man in the presence of
God, not just his mind; moreover, faith is a supernatural, gracious
gift to one whose impotence to obtain it by himself can only be de
scribed as bondage and blindness. This faith has a cognitive core: a
knowledge of what God has done and promises to do. Therefore faith
involves "confession," doctrinal "assertions"; "take away assertions,
and you take away Christianity."89
Would-be autonomous reason cannot even comprehend the neces
sary assertions of the Christian faith after they have been declared. It
cannot make sense of the assertion that God and man have become
one being.
So one of the main reasons why the words of Moses and Paul are not
taken in their plain sense (by Erasmus) is their 'absurdity'. But
against what article of faith does that 'absurdity' transgress? And who
is offended by it? It is human reason that is offended; which, though
it is blind, deaf, senseless, godless, and sacrilegious, in its dealing with
all God's words and works, is at this point brought in as judge of
God's words and works! On these same grounds you will deny all the
articles of the faith, for it is the highest absurdity by far—foolishness
to the Gentiles and a stumbling-block to the Jews, as Paul says—that
God should be man, a virgin's son, crucified, sitting at the Father's
right hand. It is, I repeat, absurd to believe such things!40
This is why Luther lays such emphasis on God's revelation in the
Scriptures as our one sure seat of authority, and why he insists on a
literal, historical interpretation of Scripture, freed from all artificiali-
♦ ties and alien norms.41 But even here Luther is not trading reason
for a crass fideism, an obscurantist dogmatism. Throughout his trea
tise, but especially in two remarkable discussions of the clarity of

Scripture,42 he offers a number of correctives and curbs to the Chris
tian's tendency to claim to know more than he ought.
(1) Our faith knowledge is limited because our rational power to
understand the words of God's revelation is limited.
I certainly grant that many passages in the Scriptures are obscure and
hard to elucidate, but that is due, not to the exalted nature of their
subject, but to our own linguistic and grammatical ignorance; and it
does not in any way prevent our knowing all tl1e contents of Scrip
ture . . . (namely, that Christ, God's Son, became man, that God is
Three in One, that Christ suffered for us, and will reign for ever).
. . . Take Christ from the Scriptures—and what more will you find in
d1em?48
The words used in Scripture and the assertions they convey are plain,
but do we understand them in their native intention? Our under
standing needs to be corrected and clarified by the best linguistic and
historical scholarship available. Luther's own painstaking and per
sistent labors in expounding and translating the Scriptures prove that
he took this principle seriously.
(2) The scope of our knowledge of God—and even of our own es
sence—is limited. This insight relates first to the character of God's
revelation. We may understand the words accurately, but do we un
derstand the message conveyed in the assertions? Only if we accept
the message as applying to ourselves personally; our life is at stake!
This is existential knowledge—commitment—not spectator knowledge
—philosophy—and for it we need the gracious work of the Holy Spirit
in our hearts.
Nobody who has not the Spirit of God sees a jot of what is in the
Scriptures. All men have their hearts darkened, so that, even when
they can discuss and quote all that is in Scripture, they do not under
stand or really know any of it. . . .The Spirit is needed for tl1e under
standing of all Scripture and even' part of Scripture.44
Precisely so, what we may know about God is limited by what he has
chosen to reveal about himself. Speaking of the problem of election
Luther declares:
Where God hides Himself, and wills to be unknown to us, there we
have no concern. . . . This will is not to he pried into, but to be rev
erently adored. . . . God in His own nature and majesty is to be left
alone; in this regard, we have nothing to do with Him, nor does He
wish us to deal with Him. We have to do with Him as clothed and
displayed in His Word, by which He presents Himself to us.45
This is the Word centered in Christ. Beyond its clear message we

have no right to dogmatize. Consequently, Luther distinguishes be
tween God and our knowledge of God, God and his Word, God and
his works, the hidden God and the preached God.46 We do not grasp
God himself in his inner essence and majesty, as speculative theolo
gians and mystics may purport to do; our comprehension has to do
with listening to what God has said to us and tracing what God has
concretely done and still does. Here we need the faith to accept and
be satisf1ed with what God has revealed.
(3) Our experiential apprehension of God's message is limited. We
may assent to God's message with our heads, but do we accept it in
our lives? What God reveals comes to us hidden in experiences which
utterly upset our rational judgments and expectations.47 To receive
God's revelation in experience we need a faith which through lowli
ness and suffering discerns God's presence and his address to us be
neath what reason regards as only a stumbling block and foolishness.
Here it is precisely the greatest saints who exercise the greatest humility
in their claims to divine knowledge.
(4) Even when our faith knowledge is true, it bears not only a frag
mentary but also a provisional character, in view of the coming con
summation. In the "light of grace" we have many unanswered ques
tions. But "do you not think that the light of glory will be able with
the greatest ease to solve problems that are insoluble in the light of
the word and grace . . . ?"48
V
Though he rejected transubstantiation, Luther insisted that the
body of Christ is literally, substantially present in the Lord's Supper.
This view embarrassed the Elizabethan translators of his Galatians
Commentary, but they pleaded that we should not "for one little wart
cast away the whole bodie" of his work,49 and many people to this
day denounce his Eucharistic theology as either mystical or gross
and irrational.
The best source for examining this doctrine is the Great Confession
concerning Christ's Supper, 1528,50 the real theological climax of a
carefully pondered, long-drawn-out polemic against the Zwinglians.
Note that Zwingli did not consider Luther's views of God's election
and man's unreasonable; unlike Erasmus, Luther's new adversary
was a strict predestinarian and by intention a rigorous biblicist. But
it was different in regard to the Lord's Supper. Zwingli's two main
^
/
arguments are, first, that to interpret the words of institution literally

is impossible in view of Christ's ascension, for a body by definition
occupies space, and thus Christ's body, being now in heaven, cannot
be bodily present in the sacrament; secondly, even if it were possible,
it would be useless in view of John 6:63, "The flesh is of no avail":
nothing material can actually bestow a spiritual benefit. For these
reasons Luther's contention for the Real Presence is absurd.51 It is
important that Zwingli meant: "absurd" not so much to reason as to
"scripture and the creed."52 Nevertheless, against an adversary who
made a principle of the assertion that in the Scriptures God does not
"put before us many incomprehensible things" to believe,53 Luther
suspected that Zwingli's real ground was that doctrines like the Real
Presence are "burdensome to the people" and "difficult to believe."54
Such a faith, Luther argued, would destroy the doctrine of the Incar
nation and would reduce the Savior to a "mere saint."
This Christological issue which we have encountered as the key
signature in the previous subjects also dominates Luther's thought
here. We shall therefore confine ourselves to three aspects of his com
prehensive argument which indicate his use of reason. (1) Luther's
insistence on a literal interpretation of the words of institution repre
sents neither mysticism nor irrationalism. If God spoke the words,
they can be neither impossible nor useless, but must be true whether
we understand them or not. It is best, therefore, simply to cling to
God's own words. But this does not imply that God's words in them
selves are alien to the realm of reason. Just the opposite! The words
are plain and familiar. Language belongs to the realm of bodily
things over which reason presides. Even the Word, in the sense of
the words themselves, belongs in this realm along with "water, Christ's
body, and his saints on earth,"55 which are the vehicles through which
the Spirit comes to us. "Seven-year-old boys" can understand them.58
"A heathen, a Jew or a Turk," on hearing Christ's words,
must acknowledge that they speak of the body of Christ which is in
the bread. How otherwise could the heathen and the Jews mock us,
saying that the Christians eat their God, if they did not understand
this text clearly and distinctly? When the believer grasps and the
unbeliever despises that which is said, however, this is due not to
the obscurity or clarity of the words but to the hearts that hear it.57
Luther will not grant, then, that when Christ spoke of his body he
really meant his divinity, as Zwingli urged! If Zwingli may do any
thing he wants with the text, what can stop him?58 Luther, inci
dentally, rejects the suggestion of some Occamists that we must speak
of a "double truth," or a special "logic of faith" applying in the realm

of revelation. He opposed the Sorbonne assertion that "Truth is the
same in philosophy and theology," by citing the doctrines of the In
carnation and the Trinity. By a perfectly good syllogism one could
"prove" that the Son is the Father,—but it would not be truel But
This arises not from a defect of the syllogistic form, but from the
power and majesty of the material, which cannot be confined in the
narrowness of reason or syllogisms. This material indeed is not con
trary to, but rather outside, inside, above, beneath, this side of and
beyond all dialectical truth.59
(2) Luther constantly maintains that the Swiss do not use reason
enough. He charges Zwingli with ignorance of grammar. For example,
"I am the true vine" cannot mean "I represent the true vine"; rather,
the vine represents Christ.60 Also of elementary logic: for example,
Zwingli argues that "Christ is not in the Supper in the same form in
which he was crucified, therefore he is not in the Supper."61 Again,
says Luther, when Christ declares of the bread, "This is my body,"
reason "shakes its head and exclaims, 'Oh, it is quite impossible!' "
Luther retorts:62 (a) reason must not presume to judge God; (b) to as
sert an impossibility here on the basis that a body necessarily is con
fined to space is to commit the fallacy of trying to prove an uncertain
proposition by another still more uncertain; (c) for two diverse sub
stances to be one substance "is not contrary to scripture, indeed, it is
not even contrary to reason or true logic." His proofs from Scripture
are the doctrines of the Trinity and the Incarnation, but he goes on
to argue that there are other kinds of union of beings in human ex
perience, such as angel and flame of fire, Holy Spirit and dove—hence
a unity of bread and Christ's body is not necessarily absurd. Indeed,
logic "should first seek the aid of grammar," which often embraces
two beings in a single expression by the figure synecdoche. This re
course to synecdoche does not contradict a literal interpretation of
Christ's words, for synecdoche acknowledges the real presence of
both "beings" referred to, whereas Zwingli's alloeosis—reference to
one being while actually meaning the other—precisely does not.
(3) Most offensive of all to many people has been Luther's doctrine
of the ubiquity of Christ's body.63 But this too is no retreat from rea
son. One reason why the words may be literally true, Luther holds, is
that "body" may have other modes of presence than the local or spa
tial one measured by our senses. For Christ's body to pass "through
the gravestone and the locked door" is one illocal mode (i.e., not
bound by ordinary laws of space and place), which he shares with
X">
spirits and with the saints triumphant. Another, attributable to

Christ alone by virtue of his unique union with the Godhead, enables
Christ's humanity to share in God's omnipresence. Reason grasps the
local mode; faith is needed to perceive the second and third.
Must a text be unclear if a thing is invisible and none but the be
liever perceives it? . . . If everything that faith teaches is invisible,
then this text cannot be clear: 'God created heaven and earth', for
God and his creativity are invisible.64
Regardless of whether Luther's theory is found convincing or not, at
least it cannot be dismissed as irrational. The ubiquity theory de
pends on the acknowledgment of various modes of presence, just as
Zwingli's argument depends on the strictly spatial definition of "body."
Luther was clear that such philosophizing could indicate how Christ's
words may be literally true, but also that his Eucharistic faith by no
means depended on this philosophical support. Luther's theology de
pended much less on the how than Zwingli's on the how not; signifi
cantly, Luther's Large and Small Catechisms utterly bypass such the
orizing and simply build on the faith that Christ is truly present in
the sacrament. It is much more debatable whether Zwingli realized
the danger of rationalism in the way he argued from the necessarily
spatial character of "body" and from the inability of the material to
convey the spiritual. When Luther attacked those two principles, he
did so not on the basis of a metaphysical position, but neither did he
speak from an antimetaphysical position or a contempt for reason.
His attack arose from his insight into the way God acts in Jesus Christ
and in Scripture and in all of history.
The adequacy and permanence of Luther's theology, of course, re
main subject to dispute, but one must acknowledge a massive con
sistency and clarity and even power in his use of reason. On the basis
of his theological principles Luther applied his reason faithfully, and
his principles gave an important though carefully limited place to
reason.
Anfechtung in Luther's Biblical Exegesis
C. Warren Hovland
Perhaps few theologians were ever better qualified to speak about

the nature of doubt, temptation, anxiety, and the dark night of the
soul than Martin Luther. His theology was hammered out in the work
shop of his own soul. Sometime after 1530 he wrote:
If I should live a littie while longer, I would like to write a book
about Anfechtung. Without it no man can rightly understand the
Holy Scriptures or know what the fear and love of God is all about.
In fact, without Anfechtung one does not really know what the spirit
ual life is.1
The word Anfechtung has no real equivalent in English. Professor
Bainton, who first introduced me to the centrality of the term in
Luther's thought, says the word has as much right to be carried into
English as Blitzkrieg. He defines it simply as "all the doubt, turmoil,
pang, tremor, panic, despair, desolation, and desperation which in
vade the spirit of man."2 Jacob Grimm in the Deutsches Worterbuch
explains that the word comes from the middle-high German word for
"bodily-struggle."8 The base of the word, fechten, means "combat,"
"struggle," or "attack." In theological usage the word is often trans
lated "temptation." However, it is interesting to note that Luther
prefers the word Anfechtung to Versuchung even in his translation
and explanation of the sixth petition of the Lord's Prayer.4
Two types of Anfechtung beset Luther: one was the whole matter
of faith (Glaubensanfechtung), the other was the matter of his voca
tion (Berufsanfechtung). Much attention has been given to the strug
gle for faith of the young Luther and the spiritual depressions he en
countered before the evangelical awakening of 1513.' It is the intent
of this essay to show that both the struggle for faith and the questions
about his vocation continued to plague Luther throughout his life
and did, in fact, continue until the very last year of his life. "I did
not learn my theology all at once," he wrote, "but I had to search
deeper for it where my temptations took me."6 The author of "A
Mighty Fortress Is Our God" could also have periods when he would
>
ANFECHTUNG IN LUTHER'S BIBLICAL EXEGESIS 47
say, "Love God? I hate him."7 The year 1527 was one of the most
severe periods of doubt and suffering. In August of that year he wrote
to Melanchthon:
For the last week I have been thrown into death and the pit, my
whole body so bruised that I still tremble in all my members. I had
almost lost Christ and was thrown to the billows and buffeted by
storms of despair so that I was tempted to blaspheme against God.8
Some attempts have been made to explain Luther's Anfcchtungen on
a psychological basis. Professor Reiter, a Danish psychiatrist, has at
tempted to plot the cycle of Luther's manic and depressive phases. He
finds Luther had depressive phases in 1505, 1507-1519, 1521, 1523-
1524, 1527-1528, 1529, 1532, 1535-!536. ^M' 1541» 1543'1546, and that
he had periods of exaltation from 1519-1521 and from 1522-1526. This
treatment is open to question on many counts.9 It rests on an assumed
diagnosis of "manic-depressive" without adequate evidence. There is
abundant evidence in his literary works alone that even during his
depressive periods Luther was able to produce a prodigious number of
sermons, commentaries, letters, hymns, poems, etc. The years 1519-
1521 are also far from manifesting uniform exhilaration since they
include periods of severe anxiety about his vocation. Luther's physical
health does not always correlate with his mental health either.10
Others have sought an explanation in terms of psychoanalytic
theory. One of the most recent of these is the work of Erik Erikson en-
<j y j s J
Using a basically Freudian orientation Erikson sees the relationship
between Luther's father and the young Luther as determinative for
the whole course of his spiritual development. His thesis is that Luther,
once a sorely frightened child, recovered through the study of Christ's
passion the central meaning of the Nativity. He shows how his depres
sions and anxieties were essentially a search for a self image. Beginning
with the problem which all adolescents face, namely the identity crisis,
Luther had to work through the problems of intimacy, generativity,
and integrity. Although Erikson is highly dependent on fragments of
Luther's recollections of childhood, he has grasped some of the essen
tial psychological dynamics of his soul struggle. He is conscious of
the tremendous cost to Luther and the significance of his spiritual
struggle for human history. He says that both Luther and Freud came
to realize that "the child is in the midst." Both men perfected intro
spective techniques permitting an isolated man to recognize his pa-
tienthood.12 However, Erikson's study deals only with the young Lu
ther and he is content to show that Luther's concept of a "gracious
God" was able to replace the stern father of his youth. His thesis does
not account for the continuing Anfechtung which Luther suffered
after the evangelical awakening.
The attempt to explain Luther's soul struggles on the basis of a
Zeitgeist also seems inadequate. It is sometimes said that Albrecht
Diirer was one of the few people who could understand Luther. His
portrait of "Knight, Death, and Devil" may be taken as typical of
medieval mentality. It portrays an armored knight riding off to meet
the foe, with death and the devil stealthily stealing behind him. Now
it is true that Luther, like all medieval men, lived in a thought world
peopled with demonic spirits. He could be frightened almost to death
by the sound of a rustling leaf or flee in terror from a devil who
might be lurking in the murky shadows. Luther was very fond of
quoting the passage in Leviticus 26:36 which speaks of the fear which
may be generated in a person by a rustling leaf. There are at least
five passages where the sound of the rustling leaf is coupled with light
ning.13 This may be accounted for by recalling the moment of terror
he felt in the thunderstorm just preceding his entry into the mon
astery. Undoubtedly the two phenomena were tied together in his
mind. Yet Luther's Anfechtungen were, as we shall see, more than the
fear of evil spirits which was shared by his contemporaries.
111 an /injectuung we are uea11ng u1rectiy wun 00a. (in atier /in-
fechtung geht es unmittelbar um Gott.) This was Luther's basic thesis.
While many moderns may seek psychological, sociological, historical,
and psychoanalytic interpretations,11 for Luther the problem is the
religious problem par excellence: How do I stand before God? An
fechtung is a life and death matter for him since man's whole destiny
is at stake: "The soul hangs precariously on a thin thread dangling
between eternal life and eternal damnation."15 Since Luther's thought
is both biblical and experiential it may be said to be characterized by
an emphasis on the I-Thou relationship. "Gott begegnet t1ns offt wer
ihn kunde grussen."16 Truth, for Luther, always emerges as a result
of a personal meeting with God in the Word. This is the essence of
the divine-human encounter. But this encounter often engenders
feelings of anxiety, dread, uncertainty—in short, Anfechtung. There
fore we may tentatively define Anfechtung as the terror the individual
feels in the moment he is confronted with some dark aspect of God.
God may confront man as judge, as enemy, as tempter, as the hidden
one, and as the arbitrary one.
In seeking an understanding of his own spiritual problems Luther
came to see the Bible as a collection of biographies of those who were
ANFECHTUNG IN LUTHER S BIBLICAL EXEGESIS 49
suffering Anfechtung and a record of how God permitted the pious

to fall into this state and how he helped them out again. He wrote:
"I find in the Scriptures that Christ, Abraham, Jacob, Moses, Job,
David and countless others have tasted of hell even in this life."17
Thus Luther came to read the Bible in the light of his own experience
and grew in the conviction that God continued to tempt his chosen
ones. This was supremely true in the case of Christ who knew these
dark hours during his ministry.18 Luther grasped the heart of Paul,
Abraham, and Jonah as few other men have because in part, at least,
he projected into their spiritual struggles the memory of his own. He
thus came to feel that he .was a part of the fellowship of those who bear
the marks of pain—men like Job, Jeremiah, and David who could pro
claim their faith only in the midst of continuing struggles. Luther
may well have said with Dostoievski, "My Hosannas have gone through
the deep purgatory of doubt and despair."19
We turn now to an examination of some of the aspects of God
which the biblical figures encountered in their Anfechtung situation.
First we deal with God as judge. One of the most frequent types of con
frontation with God recorded in the Bible is that of the individual who
has broken the moral law or who is in disobedience to God's will. When
confronted with the just and holy God, man's conscience is troubled
and he sees God as a stern judge before whom he stands accused. It is
clear that the Reformer's rediscovery of the gospel was also fraught
with terrible consequences for the individual. He realized that the God
w1u1 wi1om man uas iu ut.n 1s u1c h>m> <mu ut1 iv.t.1 C.I, auu i.«ul 'U*C
demands he makes on man are complete perfection and submission.
This means that every ladder to heaven, every treasury of merit, was
of no avail—was in fact sin. Luther's thought started with God, whose
honor demanded that man uncompromisingly do his will. The implica
tion of this "new conscience" means that Luther had transferred all the
dilemmas and dualism of the Catholic system of morality to the heart
of the individual. Professor Ritter has characterized Luther's religion
as "the religion of the heroic Willensmensch who bears about in his
own breast the contradictions of good and evil which rend the world
asunder."20
In his exegesis of the Anfechtungen of Adam, Cain, Jonah, Joseph's
brothers, Moses, David, and the Psalmist, Luther described this ex
perience of meeting with God as judge. In each case communion
with a loving Father has been broken and the realization of the sep
aration is made manifest in an uneasy conscience. While it is true
that this aspect of God, the God with "the strange face" seems to be
Anfechtun.
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ANFECHTUNG IN LUTHER's BIBLICAL EXEGESIS 49
sº ring Anfechtung and a record of how God permitted the pious

- all into this state and how he helped them out again. He wrote:
- ind in the Scriptures that Christ, Abraham, Jacob, Moses, Job,
ld and countless others have tasted of hell even in this life.”
º Luther came to read the Bible in the light of his own experience
grew in the conviction that God continued to tempt his chosen
This was supremely true in the case of Christ who knew these
hours during his ministry.'s Luther grasped the heart of Paul,
aham, and Jonah as few other men have because in part, at least,
i rojected into their spiritual struggles the memory of his own. He

came to feel that he was a part of the fellowship of those who bear
marks of pain—men like Job, Jeremiah, and David who could pro
their faith only in the midst of continuing struggles. Luther
well have said with Dostoievski, “My Hosannas have gone through
deep purgatory of doubt and despair.”
We turn now to an examination of some of the aspects of God
i ich the biblical figures encountered in their Anfechtung situation.

st we deal with God as judge. One of the most frequent types of con
ntation with God recorded in the Bible is that of the individual who
broken the moral law or who is in disobedience to God's will. When
ºnfronted with the just and holy God, man's conscience is troubled
he sees God as a stern judge before whom he stands accused. It is
ear that the Reformer's rediscovery of the gospel was also fraught
|th terrible consequences for the individual. He realized that the God
in whom man inas to deal is tile inviy aud pººr Gºd, “d tº.… C.
ands he makes on man are complete perfection and submission.
his means that every ladder to heaven, every treasury of merit, was
no avail—was in fact sin. Luther's thought started with God, whose
onor demanded that man uncompromisingly do his will. The implica
on of this “new conscience" means that Luther had transferred all the
lemmas and dualism of the Catholic system of morality to the heart
Ritter has erized Luther's religion
s “the reli Willensmº no bears about in his
wn breast good hich rend the world
under. -
In his e - ge?" ain, Jonah, Joseph's

others. Ps: - r described this ex
ºrienc ls ch case communion
ºith a - ok. alization of the sep
atiº ce. While it is true

al
ge face” seems to be
found more in the Old Testament than in the New Testament, Luther
felt that this was an abiding and necessary attribute of God's nature. It
is to be noted that his treatment of all these instances occurs long after
the period of his evangelical experience; he was working on the Gen
esis lectures up until a year before his death.
In his rich and emotionally charged language, Luther describes the
first Anfechtung situation in one of his sermons preached in 1523.
When the heat of the day had passed and it was cool, they heard the
voice of the Lord. Then the garden suddenly became too narrow—.
that is, in their conscience they knew that they had sinned. But there
was no room to (lee and the Lord was already too close to them. The
conscience experiences the greatest damnation when we know that
we have sinned. When conscience comes there is no comfort any
where, one must either despair or God must return. In the hour that
the Lord spoke saying, "Adam, where are you?" both Adam and Eve
were in death's hour. This question sounded hard and foreign to
them, for the Most High had previously treated them as his beloved
children and now he acts as if he didn't know them. Therefore, Adam
thought: God is hostile toward you. Heaven and earth pressed in
upon him, everything became too tight for him, and he was unable
to flee.2*
We see in this description some of the classic elements of Anfech
tung. If one recognizes the symbolism involved in this myth one can
UJJU OV.V, t.A»v_ «,» v. 1 ii', 1 iv». . ,-
Note the element of metaphysical insecurity when "the garden be

comes too narrow" and the feeling of the hostility of the created
order so that even the sound of a rustling leaf strikes terror in Adam's
heart.22 The cool of the garden at vesper time suddenly becomes a
scene of "judgment, terror, and fright."2a The tormented conscience
now sees God in the form of a stern judge before whose tribunal it
must appear.24 The existential categories are sharpened; the unique
ambivalence of the relationship makes the individual more conscious
of the severity of the ultimate separation. The normal response to this
situation is the attempt to flee from one's responsibility, yet "the more
we try to flee the closer God comes to us." The act of independence,
the refusal to have any Lord to whom he would be responsible, mani
fests Adam's basic sin of pride. Yet now he knows he is responsible. ^l
One might coin the word "Verantwortlichkeitsanfechtung" (responsi- 7
bility-Anfechtung) for this situation. When Adam cannot flee he be- ^
comes self-defensive—this is symbolized by the fig leaves. Luther has "*cc
no patience with Adam's attempt to transfer responsibility to Eve.
This is the highest affront to the divine majesty: "The fool is going
>
to punish God for sending him the Temptress."25 Finally, Luther

points out that the Fall involves the loss of the imago dei. One of
the prime factors in Anfechtung is that man has a distorted and in
complete picture of God. As Luther had come to know experientially,
the search for a gracious God is made more difficult because the orig
inal imago is so blurred that man easily forms a wrong concept of
God. The tragic element in this meeting with God is that Adam
refuses to recognize that his judge is also his gracious God. Anfech
tung continues until one is able to confess one's sin and throw himself
on God's mercy.
Cain also experienced this confrontation with God the judge.26 Lu
ther suggests that Cain's problem was that he doubted even the exist
ence of God and thus sinned against the First Commandment.27 Luther
felt that if in the most severe temptations one could hold to the
promise implied in the command, "I am the Lord your God," there
was hope. Yet in the case of Cain it seemed as if this hope were denied.
One might call this state the ultimate rejection of meaning and hope.
For Luther the whole Jonah narrative is a description of the tor
mented conscience. The sea trip is made into an allegory of the hard
ening, awakening, and doubting conscience. The confrontation with
God the judge, or with the law, is a necessary experience for the
Christian; without this one cannot come to true faith. "All honest
and pious Christians are just like Jonah; they also are thrown into
the sea, yes, into the depths of hell . . . All saints must also descend
v.ith. *JL*li Loiu into me ln1erno."** The story is also to remind us of
what death—Anfechtung can be like, for in the belly of the whale
Jonah "looked death in the face . . . Here are drawn all the hellish
aspects of eternal damnation, eternal anxiety, distress, eternal death,
fear and despair."28 Jonah's attempt to flee to the heathens and away
from God's demands is interpreted as the attempt to save oneself by
the law. The helplessness of the ship's company represents the failure
of all work-righteousness. But the real miracle of the book of Jonah
is that just when everything is called into doubt and nothing seems
possible, God gives us grace and faith. When Jonah was able to say:
"Thy waves have come over me," he was on the way to being re
leased from Anfechtung. In a strikingly autobiographic note in the
1526 commentary on Jonah, Luther observes:
Just when I was in death's deepest throes and had the least hope,
and there seemed the least possibility of life, the Lord came with his
power and by a miracle led my life out of death and destruction. So
when a string holds the strongest it breaks.30
A second aspect of God that is revealed in Anfechtung is that of

the enemy. This in a sense is a development of the idea of God as
judge. Man must not only appear before the tribunal of God but he
must face the angry One, his prosecutor is also his enemy. Luther treats
this theme in his study of Job, and in Psalms 6 and 1 18.
Luther called Job "a unique book of theological rhetoric." One
theme runs throughout the book: God is hostile toward me and I
toward him.31 Interestingly enough his translation of the Old Testa
ment was held up chiefly because of the difficulties he encountered
with the book of Job. He wrote, "Job is as little willing to endure
our translations as to hear the comfort of his friends. We work on
the book of Job so that in four days we are scarcely able to complete
three lines."32 The Hebrew poet who is the author of the book is
compared to Vergil and the hero to Aeneas. "The author is a man
who has seen and experienced a great many temptations and Anfech-
tungen. Only a man who has lived through such an experience can un
derstand this."33 This raises the problem of the relation of Luther's
own experience of Anfechtung to his work as translator and inter
preter of Scripture. We may well ask whether the Anfechtung he finds
in Job is a projection of his own diff1culties and whether his own
problems sometimes interfered with his work as translator as well.
"When death star**! J~u in the fac <tuu God depr1ved him of
everything, then his words give testimony to what kind of thoughts
a man can have against God. Then Job thinks that God is not God
but a vain judge and an angry tyrant, who deals only with force and
without concern for man's good."34 At first Job had suffered only
physical Anfechtung but when he questioned God's wisdom and pur
poses he was thrown into the depths of spiritual turmoil. Part of Job's
problem was that he did not know how long or how far God would
tempt him. Yet he had faith enough to see that God was only con
cealing his love, so that he could finally say, "Even though it appears
that you have turned your face from me, yet I will not believe that
you are my Enemy."35
Luther turned to Job as a book of comfort during his own suffer
ings. In July 1536, while suffering a severe attack of constipation and
palpitations of the heart he was reminded of Job. He marvelled at
the sensitivity of the human heart and what it was able to endure.
He notes that it is the most frequent member to be attacked and it
is stormed "as if it were a wall three feet thick." Out of his own
sufferings, both physical and spiritual, Luther claimed that he was
really able to understand Job while a writer like Hieronymus was
only able "to write some thoughts about the book" because he had
never really had severe Anfechtung.**
In the period from 1513 to 1532, Luther dealt with the Sixth Psalm
in six different works.87 In both the 1517 and 1525 exposition Luther
states that the main theme of the Psalm is that God often appears as
our enemy. This kind of experience does not happen to many people.
In the Gospels this happened to the Canaanite woman; David, Job,
and the German theologian Tauler are mentioned by Luther as among
the "experienced" who have tasted of this most difficult kind of spirit
ual suffering.38 The common notes in the various treatments of the
Sixth Psalm are these: First, Anfechtung is regarded as a punishment
from God who appears as man's enemy. Second, the experience of
judgment is so strong that it is compared to a foretaste of hell, and it
often weakens the body as well as the spirit. Third, it attacks the
saints especially, since it is connected with the question of predestina
tion, an outgrowth of spiritual pride. Fourth, release comes only
when one confesses his own inability to save himself and puts his trust
in God alone.
In his exegesis and commentary on the 118th Psalm in 1529, Luther
wrote, "This is my Psalm and I love it. Although I love the whole
Psalter, I am especially fond of this Psalm as it has helped me and
served me in great need. It is more precious than all wealth, power
and glory."89 It was during the year 1529 that Luther had a wound
in his tibia, and so in commenting on verse 13 ("I was pushed hard,
so that I was falling") he says, "We are such weaklings and are so
easily agonized that if we have a little pain in the leg or hear the
rustle of a leaf we cry to heaven with complaints. But what a tiny evil
this is compared with the great goodness we receive from God."40 Then
Luther proceeds with some practical counsel. Noting that the Psalmist
says, "I cry to the Lord," he advises: "Don't just sit there by yourself
or lie on your belly with your head hanging down and let these
thoughts bite into you, and don't get eaten up worrying over them.
Get up, you lazy fellow, and then get down on your knees and hold
up your hands to heaven and pray a Psalm or the Lord's Prayer and
bring your complaints to God."41
The Psalmist is also much concerned with the anguish of death. Is
it the devil or is it God who then "beleaguers a heart and storms
the conscience with dread, doubt and despair"? The devil is indeed
active in death's hour in bringing forth such petty sins as taking one
too many drinks, or sleeping too long in the morning, or laughing in
church. Luther suggests that it is good perhaps that man does not
have to face his real sins: unbelief, despising God, and the basic fact
that we do not really fear, trust, and love God with all our heart. He
says, "I don't think there is any faith on earth that could stand face
to face with this fact without falling and despairing utterly." The
anxiety about death is created by persecution, pestilence, sickness, and
all the dangers of life. These were all very real to Luther. When faced
with this kind of threat to one's existence, in which the whole cosmic
drama of redemption and salvation is enacted, Luther advises us to
address the Tempter with these words: "What are you looking for,
my good works or my righteousness? I haven't any, my power is not
my power; the Lord is my strength. I know nothing of either sin or
holiness in me, nothing except the power of God."42 This was the
secret of the faith of the Psalmist and of Luther.
Luther also deals with the Anfechtung experiences of biblical char
acters when they are confronted with God the tempter. This he finds
to be the case with Eve, Judas, Peter, and Paul. The classic illustra
tion is the temptation of Eve.43 While the narrative pictures her as
being tempted by the devil, Luther indicates that this temptation
was sent by God to test her faith. For in Luther's faith it must be re
membered that God is almighty and the devil is always subordinate
to him, therefore in every situation man must respond directly to
God. Luther indicates that one of the basic temptations which God
sends man is the temptation to devise a picture of God which is more
in harmony with reason or with nature than the God of the Bible.
This is the temptation to a false faith, to accept an inadequate view
of God and to be committed to it. Judas was tempted by a few pieces
of silver, but underlying this was the real temptation—betrayal of his
Lord.44 On the other hand God tempted Peter with presumption. He
was overconfident in his faith and did not realize how faith must be
a continuing struggle. When the darts of Satan attacked Peter through
the mouth of the servant girl, "his faith toppled and he fell into the
depths of despair."45
Paul's "thorn in the flesh" is interpreted by Luther as high, spiritual
suffering and he claims that the papists have never understood this.
"These clumsy, awkward, unexperienced people have never known
about any other Anfechtung than the evil tendencies and desires of
the flesh, and so they interpret Paul in this light."46 Both medieval
and modern Catholic polemic against Luther probably misunderstand
him on this point. It is not a question of erotic desire or a contest
between the lower and the higher capacities of the soul. Luther makes
this distinction clear.47 He knew the struggles against the flesh which
even Augustine, Hieronymus, Francis, Benedict, and Bernard had

also suffered, "but the devil just laughs up his sleeve at all these
things."48 All of this is temptation at the pure level of physical tempt-
tation. It does not touch the vital point of faith. One may indeed suc
cumb to these temptations and not be lost. The danger of these temp
tations is rather the negative one, i.e., in overcoming them one may
feel righteous and fall prey to spiritual pride.
But the matter goes further. The chief objection to the Catholic
understanding at this point is that "temptation," as they use it, refers
to a relationship between the individual and a moral code or an
ethical habitus, while Anfechtung deals with a direct relationship
to God, the Absolute. This difference has been well stated by S0ren
Kierkegaard:
Anfechtung is in the sphere of the God-relationship what temptation
is in the ethical sphere. When the ethical relationship to reality is the
maximum for the individual, then temptation is his greatest danger.
Hence it is quite in order that Anfechtung is left out, and it is only
an instance of slovenliness that it is identified with temptation. But it
is not only in the manner just described that Anfechtung differs from
temptation, but the orientation of the individual is also different in
the two cases. In temptation, it is the lower that tempts, in Anfech
tung it is the higher; in temptation, it is the lower that allures the in
dividual, in Anfechtung it is the higher that, as if jealous of the indi
vidual, tries to frighten him back.46
In other words, if the individual should be able to conquer simple
"temptations," he might never confront the dark aspects of God or
learn the lessons that this experience might teach him. In Anfechtung,
on the other hand, one has to do with God alone, and the purposes of
God alone are good, but he may use various methods and mediums
("strange faces") in order to incite the individual to a faith relationship.
We turn now to an examination of those instances where God
appears to hide or conceal his true nature. God the Hidden One is
the basis of the Anfechtungen of Jacob, Joseph in the Old Testament,
and Mary the mother of Jesus.
"God is He that is hidden; that is his property."50 This is a part
of Luther's classic description of God as Deus Absconditus and man is
confused and anxious when he encounters it. There seems to be a
kind of masquerade by God, "for he often conceals himself under
his armour."51 His purpose for thus concealing himself is indeed not
always clear. Sometimes it indeed seems arbitrary: "God gave us this
mask and so it must be."52 Even the creator God is a hidden God. Why?
Luther answers that God's will to save can only be acknowledged
and confessed when the possibility of falling also exists. Therefore

God's concealment is a prerequisite for revelation and also for faith.
In his study of Jacob, the man who wrestled with God, we see
personified the existential struggle of one who has a terrifying meeting
with the Wholly Other. Jacob's struggle, like Luther's, is for a right
understanding of God. Jacob at Jabbok became a favorite theme in
Luther's sermons; we find it in sermons in 1524, 1527, 1528, and in
the Lectures on Genesis, 1535-1545. Jacob is a child of promise and
in his encounter with God he tries to hold fast to his faith, but God
first drives him into anxiety. Jacob does not know who he is fighting
with at Jabbok, whether it is a spirit or a man. Luther uses a variety
of phrases to describe Jacob's opponent: In one passage it is "the
devil," in another it is "God," in another, "the Lord," twice he uses
the phrase, "an angry God," in another it is "the Son of God," and
in still others it is "Christ himself."53 In vivid language he describes
the struggle which ensues. It is night and "the night is no one's friend."
(It was the time when Luther had his worst bouts with melancholy.)
Jacob is alone. He must leave wife and children and stand naked and
alone to do battle. Note the close relationship between the physical
and spiritual suffering described here:
When courage remains and the heart does not despair, then a
strength and power flow to the body. But when fortitude fails, then
all strength vanishes and the body cannot stand on its own feet . . .
When God attacks a man he does not seize him by the skin, but
1 within, so that the marrow wastes away and the bones become weak
as the flesh. This is also what Christ experienced in the Garden of
Olives.54
Jacob is praised for his persistence in wrestling with God, even the
God "with the strange face." Grasping him where he was most pliant
he said, "Now Lord, you have promised us grace and mercy and that
you will help us and make us holy. Help us now, Lord, it is high
timet"55 This kind of prayer is holding God to his word; it is finding
the soft (weich) spot where God may be grasped. Jacob was thus even
able to overcome the predestination anxiety. When he seemed to hear
the terrible voice: "You will be lost, Jacob!", he answered, "I will not
be lost because God does not want that to happen . . . Besides, I will
hold fast to his first promises."56
Anxiety must have marked many moments in Joseph's life, especially
when he was cast into the pit or when he sat loitering in Potiphar's
prison. Both "pit" and "prison" are powerful Anfechtung symbols.
In a sermon preached in 1534, Luther suggests that the tentatio Joseph
suffered most from was unanswered prayer.57 He cried for twelve years
before he was heard. The more he cried the more it seemed that God
concealed himself from him. It is compared with the prayer in Geth-
semane where the longer he prayed the less help seemed forthcoming.
In Joseph's case the purpose of the concealment by God was to
strengthen his faith and to weaken his self-confidence. God often thus
appears to be hidden under a "no" but faith must find the "yes."
Mary suffered severe anguish when her son was lost in the Temple
at Jerusalem. In this experience she could not hold on to the Christ
who could alone save her. "She sunk into the abyss of hell and en
dured great Anfechtungen so that she despaired utterly and would
have died of anguish."68 This led Mary into both questions of pre
destination and of her responsibility. No other mother can quite un
derstand this for Mary had lost not just a human son but the Saviour of
the world. She must have thought, "O God in heaven, help me if I
have lost him. What will be required of me? What if God now decides
that he does not want me?" To this Luther adds: "All other suffering
is like a fox's tail compared to this."59 But it was not only the three
days he was lost but during the whole thirty years of his life Mary
must have suffered, for during much of this time God was hidden
from her and she was not aware of what the purpose of all this was.
But all suffering fades into insignificance when we stand at the foot
of the cross and watch this young, innocent man at the full height of
his powers mocked and spat upon, and see him hanging there with
hands and feet nailed to the shameful cross.60
For the Christian not only the Word but the sacraments can also
be an aid when God seems to hide himself. In one of the Table Talk
references Luther is reported to have said:
To think God's thoughts as opposed to Satan's thoughts is to say, 'I
am a believer in the Son of God'. Secondly, I am baptized and called
to a belief in the Church. Since I am baptized and believe in Christ,
it certainly follows that God hears me. Even though he conceals his
love from me, one must realize that this is a part of his wisdom and
God is accustomed to deal with us in this manner. For Moses said
that God desires to dwell in darkness. Therefore since he has set his
residence in darkness we must often see only his back side.61
One should also remember, that all the saints who have ever lived are
a part of the great cloud of witnesses and that they exercised their
faith by wrestling with these same spiritual struggles. By means of
this the faith of the whole church is exercised. In fact, this is one of
the marks of the true church according to the Reformer: "The Church
is a small band of very miserable men, very abject and full of despair
in the face of the world."62
Finally we turn to examples of the meeting with God the Arbitrary
One. Two examples of the Anfechtung arising out of this encounter are
Abraham in the Old Testament and the Canaanite woman in the New
Testament. In both cases God appears to be undependable, arbitrary,
and even capricious. For example, God who had given the command
ment not to kill now seems to order Abraham to slay his own son. God
who had previously promised his seed would be given to Isaac and that
he would be the father of many generations now orders Isaac killed.
"God was now as unpredictable as the weather (wetterwendisch) and
contradicts himself."63 This is a riddle which no one can solve "except
the Holy Ghost." The rational facilities seem to be at a loss. "What can
reason say to this? It is completely frustrated, there seems to be no
avenue of escape and we can only say that the game is up." In his
picturesque way he describes it thus: "God plays with him as with an
apple. Abraham has to hold still and let it go with him however it will.
Thus does God seem to play with his saints a very enjoyable play, but
they see something very different in it." Two additional factors make
the Anfechtung more severe. First, the time interval of three days, and
secondly, the fact that Abraham cannot tell anybody. It is no wonder
that Abraham "roasted in his thoughts and was devoured with anxiety,"
so that each new thought caused his heart to pound within him. He
must have thought: "Why does God act so strangely (narrisch)} What
have I done to deserve this?"64 For when it appears that God is
capricious and undependable the heart is likely to fall into murmuring
against God and be subject to the highest temptation, i.e., hatred of
God (odium dei). The alternatives with which Abraham was faced
were, either God is lying, which for a man to say is blasphemy, or God
hates me, which is an occasion of despair.
For Kathie, Luther's wife, this picture of a capricious God who
would command a father to slay his son was too diff1cult to understand.
Luther confessed his own doubts about how he would react to such a
demand. Kathie said, "You can't persuade me that God would require
such an atrocity from anyone. The very idea of murdering one's own
son!" Luther's retort was typical, "But are you able to believe that God
was willing to let his only-begotten Son be crucified when nothing was
more dear to him in heaven or on earth?"65
As our last illustration we turn to the Anfechtungen of the Canaanite
woman described in Matthew 15: 2 1ff. Luther was very fond of this
story. Between 1523 and 1544 he preached on this text thirteen times,
most frequently on Sunday Reminiscere. His most complete treatment

is in the Postils and since they were prepared for use by others, he
seems to have been willing to have even preachers who had not ex
perienced his personal struggles of soul use this material. We may well
ask why this particular text intrigued him so. Perhaps because the
predestination question which continued to be a source of anxiety for
him was so well treated here. Perhaps because he, too, felt "outside the
fold" after the break with Rome. Undoubtedly the picture of this lone
woman fighting her way through to faith against such overwhelming
obstacles challenged the Reformer. But perhaps more than anything
else, Luther saw this story as a source of comfort for "poor, miserable,
needy, sinful and despised mankind, so that in all their need they
should know to whom they can flee and where they can find help and
comfort." 66
In three hard blows (Schlage) Jesus tested the faith of the Canaanite
woman. The first is when he appears undependable, strange, and arbi
trary, concealing his grace from her. With the second blow she is driven
into the predestination anxiety. In answering that he was not sent ex
cept to the Jews, it is as if Jesus were saying, "It is true that men say
of me that I am kind and friendly, but I am not this way toward
everyman. This woman does not belong and she is not worthy of this
grace."67 In the third and final blow, Christ implies that she is a dog
when he says that it is not good to give the children's food to the dogs.
This is a tentationes de indignitate of the most severe kind. Luther
admits, "If this had been said to me, I would have run off. This is the
hardest text of all, to be called a dog."68
The person in uncertainty wants above all an assurance of the de
pendability of God. How can one explain why God then so often ap
pears strange, foreign, and hidden from man? Are these dark aspects
of God real or are they only the products of our consciousness? At times,
Luther suggests, God does not really mean to appear this way and this
is only a kind of game {Spiel). So Christ did not mean it in earnest
when he called the Canaanite woman a dog.69 But to the woman it
seems a real battle, a life and death struggle for faith. It even appears
that the disciples have more mercy than Christ himself. But the hope
of finding a gracious God by means of someone else interceding and
turning the heart of God toward mercy also fails. Luther had tried this
way and found it was of no avail. Therefore one can only stand as "a
naked bride," trusting in nothing in the universe to support one. The
Canaanite was brought to a state where she was left "swaying between
the Yes and the No." This is the true description of doubt. (Verzwei
flung is literally "torn in two.") Only the deepest kind of faith can
find the Yes which lies buried under the No. It is the ability to endure
these periods of Anfechtung which Luther finds most remarkable. It is
the ability to see the positive character of God, the love for his creatures
behind the dark face. "God is like the sun which conceals its rays under
the clouds, but after not too long it shines forth again."70 This is the
great miracle, the miracle of faith.
"It is living—no rather dying and facing damnation, not thinking,
reading and speculating that makes a theologian."71 Thus Luther,
through his own experience and through his study of the Bible, came
to see that for all the great figures of the Bible, all the saints of the
church, and in his own life Anfechtung is to be thought of as a bless
ing, a means of strengthening one's faith. In these hours of spiritual
struggle we "learn to see how Christ drives and pursues our faith so
that it will become strong and firm." Only for this reason does God
thrust "sin, death, hell, God's anger and judgment before our eyes—
to drive us to depend on his Word with all our heart." Luther points
out that in death's hour our own unworthiness and the predestination
questions loom largest.72 In death's hour all comfort seems to leave us
and we stand completely naked; when we are deserted by all creatures
our conscience trembles and we can see no way out of the situation.
Then, as the final act of the cosmic drama takes place for us, we must
stand before God and say, "Away with all my goods, my cattle and my
wife, away with all my goodness. Thou alone, O God, art my hope
and my consolation."73
y
Medieval Consolation
and the Young Luther's Despair
John von Rohr
The despair which Luther experienced during his early monastic

years was poignant, though not unconsoled. And yet this very con
solation was of such a nature as ultimately to contribute to the despair's
further poignancy. Thus there would seem to be a strange inversion
in which the remedy provided for spiritual disease by the medieval
church actually became occasion, in Luther's experience, for the inten
sification of the disease itself. As long as the helps offered remained
within the context of an essentially legalistic theology, they actually
served less as help than as hindrance, and effective consolation for his
soul's agony was therefore delayed for Luther until it could find basis
in an evangelical understanding.
The disease of despair was precipitated in his monastic experience
largely by his struggles with the law. Caught up in the requirements
of a system which placed major emphasis upon meritorious obedience
as an avenue to the divine favor, Luther gave his most intensive en
ergies to the task of the law's fulfillment. The system, of course, was
not a simple Pelagianism, for according to the patterns of scholastic
theology the process of salvation involved an intricate interweaving
of merit and grace. This was true even of the late scholasticism, for
though it departed from its Thomistic predecessor through a height
ened emphasis upon the independent power of the human will, this
via moderna still maintained the necessity of God's gift of sanctifying
grace for the obtaining of salvation. The gift was the divine habitus
without which men would be unacceptable before God and without
which their good works would not be sufficiently meritorious to be
worthy of eternal reward. In his wisdom God had so decreed, and the
"stamp" of his grace was required if one's works were to stand most
fully in the divine favor. It is not enough to fulfill the law simply "ac
cording to its substance," for the fulfillment must also be "according
to the purpose of the lawgiver," that is, in the state of infused grace.
And yet, though salvation is not apart from grace, it also is not apart
from merit, and indeed the greater burden of emphasis in the late
medieval scholastic theology seems to have been placed here and par
ticularly upon the powers of the human will in merit's attainment.
Repudiating Thomas Aquinas at this point, these late scholastics saw
no need for prevenient grace or any special divine help, for by simply
working under the general concurrence of God which is present in all
things the human will in its freedom can fulfill the law's requirements,
including the loving of God above all else. This would mean that
through his natural powers a man can perform those acts which will
properly dispose his soul for the reception of the divine habitus, for
grace comes when God looks with favorable consideration on these
merits and stamps them with the ornament of divine acceptance. And
when the most perfect of natural acts is accomplished, namely, the
loving of God above all else, one can expect without question that grace
will be immediately infused. Moreover, the bestowal of the super
natural habitus may even be expected by one who has failed to fulfill
the requirements of the divine law, provided that he has accomplished
all that he possibly can in an attempt to meet their demands. Out of
his liberality God will accept the works of one who has been able "to
do all that lies within him" (facere quod in se est) and thus will infuse
the gift of grace. So the practical effect of this point of view, as in the
case of Luther himself, was to send men out to achieve those merits
which would be beneficial for their salvation, preliminary merita de
congruo as preparation for God's gift, and then, when stamped with
grace, the further merita de condigno to which reward could be given.
Therefore, despite the inclusion of grace, the major emphasis fell upon
the law and one's responsibility to fulfill it.1
It is this struggle with the law that lay then at the heart of Luther's
monastic despair, for his agony was in large measure that of one who
knew his efforts to be inadequate and thus of one who stood not
meritorious but guilty before the judgments of God. These were ex
periences which he called his tentationes de indignitate,2 and so by
the very designation may be seen to rest upon his sense of unworthiness.
He later recalled that when in the monastery he tried to live as the
"Sophists" urged, namely, in sinless fashion, but such an attempt only
drives one to despair.8 Even when he was most diligent, he could not
feel that he had wholly succeeded,4 and even when he did appear to
have succeeded in the eyes of others, he still was unable to pass that
judgment upon himself.5 In fact, increased holiness brought only
greater uncertainty,6 and though he lived as an irreprehensible monk,
MEDIEVAL CONSOLATION AND THE YOUNG LUTHER'S DESPAIR 63
he felt compelled to recognize himself as "a sinner of troubled con

science." 7
His conscience was troubled, of course, because of its unusual sensi
tiveness and by observations that had to do much more with the char
acter of the inner life than with the realm of external action. Luther's
earnest introspection compelled him to find sin in the realm of attitude
as well as of act. He knew that God desired not only "righteous deeds,
prayers, studying, reading devotions, meditations, and other works,"
but also a "quiet, kindly, and obedient spirit,"8 and his failure was in
the latter as well as in the former. More than an obedient spirit, he
found within a self-seeking spirit, and this became the major basis for
his unrest. So beyond his concern over actual sins, his conscience also
brought forth an intense concern over the root of those sins, and it is
here in one respect, as he himself noted, that he differed from his con
temporaries.9 More than they, he sensed the power and the danger of
man's egocentrism10 and thus could say later, in reflecting upon his
monastic years, that even when he was most diligent in following the
monastic requirements, self-seeking always returned, making it impos
sible for him to find peace.11 Technically, according to his inherited
theology, the mere presence of such "concupiscence" did not constitute
sin, for there could be guiltiness only if the will gave its consent to
these promptings of selfish desire. But for Luther, so deeply conscious
of the presence and power of egocentrism, this distinction in theory
could have little meaning in reality. He knew self-seeking to be a
"raging, unrestrained, disobedience of the flesh against the spirit," like
a horse with a broken bridle which rears up and rebels against its
rider.12 In this state of awareness the ambiguous matter of consent lost
much of its meaning, and conscience itself was troubled by the presence
of such an overpowering foe.
So Luther knew himself to be "a sinner of troubled conscience," and
this meant despair before the judgment of God. Then the words, "the
righteousness of God," became a "thunderbolt" in his heart,13 and
twenty years later he said that he once hated so strongly this description
of the divine that even yet he trembled out of habit whenever he heard
mention made of it.14 The experience of despair was thus the fear of
God's righteous judgment. He knew Satan to hold before him the
syllogism: God hates sinners; you are a sinner; therefore, God also hates
you.15 And similarly, this despair involved terror before Christ who
would be the instrument of the divine punishment on the final day of
judgment.16 So he feared Christ more than he feared the devil him
self,17 and he was terrified even when he simply heard the name of
Jesus spoken.18 He knew the Son of God to be a condemning tyrant,19

and would have fled his presence, only to find such escape impossible.20
Thus the judgment of God, both present and future, struck terror into
his heart. It is, he said later in describing one of these experiences, to
be in such distress that there is not even any secret place which is not
filled up with the most bitter sadness, horror, trembling, and grief, so
that one's spirit senses and drinks in nothing but eternal pain.21
Luther's struggle with the law led to a guilt-laden conscience and to
the accompanying fears of divine condemnation.
But the church was accustomed to the problem of guilt, and there
were available for Luther all the helps of medieval consolation. Stand
ing in fear of the judgment of God was not the innovation of an ob
scure monk in the sixteenth century. Luther's perceptions of sin may
have been more intense than was customary, but they were far from
new. The experience of all sensitive men involves floundering in the
face of the law, and the ministrations of the church, whether by ordi
nary channels of mediation or by special recommendations of consola
tion, were therefore prepared to cope with this distress. But for Luther
these helps were strikingly unsuccessful and indeed even became oc
casion for the further intensification of his despair.
The major consolation for the guilt-laden conscience was presented
to Luther through the sacrament of penance. This was the church's
most significant sacrament for the sinner, that channel of grace through
which forgiveness could be bestowed and man re-established as accept
able in God's sight. Here the burden of guilt could be removed, the
eternal punishment due for sin remitted, and the sinner granted once
again the divine habitus of grace. And so Luther knew that when his
struggle for holiness failed he could always turn to this sacrament for
aid, for through the fulfillment of its conditions the divine wrath could
be appeased and God once more be reconciled to men.22 And yet,
though he gave himself with diligence to the practice of confession,23
he could not find peace.24 He continued to doubt in spite of his
penance25 and was unable to quiet his troubled spirit.26 He could not
be certain as to whether his sins were really forgiven,27 and he remained
in fear and terror before the wrath of Christ.28 In short, he found the
sacrament of penance to be not a source of confidence but a source of
such despair that he could later reflect upon it by designating it a
"penance of the devil."29
The plain fact seems to be that, despite its offer of grace to the
sinner, penance itself was so conceived as still to be within a legalistic
framework and thus really of no lasting avail to the sensitive conscience
struggling in the grips of the law. It is true that the habitus of grace
granted through the channel of penance was adjudged, strictly speak
ing, not to be earned. One did not actually merit forgiveness of sins,
for that was God's gracious bestowal upon the unworthy. And yet, the
eff1cacious working of the sacrament was dependent upon the satis
factory fulfillment of prior conditions by the penitent himself, and it is
in the problem of these prerequisites that Luther's grave difficulties
with penance seem to have occurred. He later noted that in the sacra
ment he could find no forgiveness of sins, for it threw him back into
the fruitless struggle for righteous works.30
Some of this frustration undoubtedly was attached to the prerequisite
condition of oral confession. In this early monastic period Luther ap
parently believed in the necessity of a complete confession as the basis
for a complete absolution, and thus he later recalled being disturbed
over the possibility of omissions from his recital of sins.31 He likewise
remembered that his attempts to reach the goal of thoroughness were
so intensive that the very act of confessing made him into a "sorry
wretch"32 and from his later perspective he maintained that his spirit
had always been troubled in those early confessions because one's con
science can never find in one's works a basis for firm consolation.33
But the problem of penance also involved a more profound dimen
sion than simply the recollection and cataloging of sins, and Luther's
major difficulty in this sacrament seems thus to have been with the still
prior condition of contrition. He knew no confession to be valid unless
it were contrite, that is, motivated by a genuine and selfless sorrow for
one's sin. God does not pardon the unrepentant sinner, and repentance
itself must be of that high order which draws upon this purest sense
of sorrow. The confession books of the Middle Ages were largely agreed
that more than attrition is needed by the penitent if the sacrament is
to be efficacious. This lesser remorse for sin, arising out of fear of pun
ishment, is insufficient in itself as basis for pardon. A worthy and
adequate penitence must come from higher motivation, the sense of
regret at having offended God himself in sin's violation of the divine
law. Therefore contrition is necessary—the sorrow which arises not
out of love of self but out of love of God. And it is here that Luther was
thrown back especially by the sacrament of penance into his fruitless
struggle for righteousness under the law.
Principal among the requirements of the law was a supreme love
for God, and so the dilectio dei super omnia became a major goal to
which Luther's efforts in the monastery were directed. This was indeed
the final and determinative end of his monastic endeavors, for as
poverty, chastity, and obedience were means to the overcoming of self-

will and self-assertiveness, they were the very channels through which
a higher love than that for self or for the things of the world could be
developed and expressed. So Luther later recalled that in his monastic
years he devoted both his body and his life to this purpose, putting
from his mind all thoughts of women, wealth, and honor in order that
he might manifest a love for God with his whole heart.34 But the
struggle for this love was as fruitless as it was intense, for the total
legalistic complex in which this was cast rendered it impossible for
Luther to feel that the desired end had really been attained. The
legalism, of course, pictured God as retributor, rewarding the worthy
and punishing the unworthy. And for one who knew himself to be un
worthy the problem of a love for God was thus great indeed. Luther
reasoned in this manner: To love God fully and above all other things
is to desire that he truly be God. It is to desire that he exercise his
power and his justice completely and that his purpose of righteous
retribution become unqualifiedly manifested in his relationship to men.
But how then, he would ask, could he love God? Such a love would
really be a yearning that God punish him for all eternity for his sins!
Indeed, who can love the God who rages, judges, and condemns?35
Nor did it help to read in Gabriel Biel the consoling word which ad
vised banishing from one's mind thoughts of God's power and justice
and finding solace in reflections upon the divine mercy.36 Luther knew
full well that the sensitive conscience fearing divine judgment simply
does not think out of existence the basis for that fear37 and, further,
that mercy itself was understood within the context of justice as the
mercy which rewards those who are worthy.38 So it was really not pos
sible to love the judging God above all else. As a matter of fact, he
later recalled that during these monastic years he not only did not
love, but also actually hated "the righteous God who punishes sin
ners."39 He could love God only if he knew that God first loved him,
but this love he did not know. And his problem was thus insoluble in
view of the very nature of his understanding of God.
But the sacrament of penance called for contrition, and the sorrow
which was contrition could arise only out of a love for God. So Luther
was thrown back by the sacrament into a renewal of his fruitless strug
gle with the law and led into a vicious circle of despair. In order to be
absolved from his sin he needed to love God above all else, but in order
to love God in this way he first needed to know that his sin had been
forgiven. Holiness was a condition for pardon, but for Luther pardon
was a necessary condition for holiness. Thus he struggled here for that
which he could not attain and was led by the sacrament itself to deeper
unrest. His conscience continually exclaimed to him: "You have not
been satisfactorily contritel",40 and he was then driven to doubt, hatred,
and despair.41 He later recalled that because of this doctrine of contri
tion his life in the monastery was one of great sadness,42 for the cer
tainty of absolution rests upon the certainty of contrition, but the latter
is always in doubt.48 Luther could not believe that his sins had been
forgiven because he could not believe that he had been fully contrite.
It should be noted further, however, that consolation utilizing the
doctrine of attrition was offered at this point, for it was held that if
full contrition were found impossible then one could come to his con
fession in attrition and the sacrament itself could transform this im
perfect sorrow into one of perfection.44 Johann Paltz, teacher in the
Augustinian Order in Erfurt, had advanced this view in Luther's own
time, combining attrition with prayer to the saints and "doing all that
lies within one" as the basis for the sacramental transformation of this
lesser sorrow into one of selfless love. Indeed, he added that the sacra
mental transformation is possible even for those who do less than that
which lies within them if they only make some movement toward the
good, for if it were not, then the passions of Christ would be largely
lost inasmuch as there are so many Christians who do not utilize their
powers to the full.45 But again, Luther could find no help here. It may
be, as Boehmer has suggested, that the failure was in the contradiction
of the theory to Luther's own experience, that is, in his recognition of
the continuing selfish character of his sorrow unchanged by any sacra
mental transformation.46 But it is more likely, as Holl has insisted, that
Luther simply had nothing whatsoever to do with attrition in this early
period.47 The demands for the perfections of the law lay very heavily
upon him, and the dilectio dei super omnia undergirding contrition
was chief among those obligations. In fact, it is then likely that attrition
itself became for him a sin which needed to be confessed along with
the rest, for that imperfect sorrow rested basically upon a love for him
self rather than upon a love for God. And so he struggled on, con
fessing his sin, being uncertain about his contrition, and then con
fessing anew.48 Thus again, because he could not believe he was fully
contrite,46 the sacrament of penance became not a means of consolation
but a cause for despair.
Yet even this greater unrest was not wholly unknown to the the
ological writers of the late Middle Ages,50 and one finds still further
helps for distressed spirits frequently suggested in the literature of
consolation. It was maintained, for example, that if one continues to
be disturbed by his sin and cannot believe that he has done all that is
necessary in order to receive full absolution, he can turn to God in
hope, remembering that in the Scripture God had frequently com
manded men to hope, and believing that through his obedience to this
command the promises of divine mercy would be fulfilled. One must
place his faith in God's goodness and find his consolation in the con
fidence that God will save those who put their trust in him.51
That Luther was confronted by this "command to hope," apart from
any knowledge that he may have had of it through the literature of
consolation, appears not to be unlikely. He later recalled that while
he was in the monastery he was reminded of it on one occasion by his
preceptor,52 on another occasion by a monastic brother,53 and on a
still further occasion by a priest.54 Yet even this consolation, with its
seemingly evangelical character, was of little avail.55 The fact of the
matter seems to be that, in spite of its emphasis upon a need for con
fidence in his faithfulness as one who will fulfill his promises, this call
to hope was still not emancipated from the whole idea of merit and
reward which dominated the thought of Luther's day. One must in
deed hope for God's mercy, for God had so commanded, but the ulti
mate basis for one's faith must still be the conviction that one's own
accomplishments were adequate for the receiving of the gifts of God's
graciousness.56 The consolatory writings emphasized that one must "do
all that lies within him" as basis for confidence of the reception of
grace, and then even the very humility which is recommended in laying
oneself in trust before God takes on the character of meritoriousness.57
And so Luther was again thrown back into the struggle for work-
righteousness even by this command to hope. Applied to the question
of absolution, where he seemed particularly to have been faced by this
matter, it meant that his hope for forgiveness must still rest on an
adequate fulfillment of the conditions which the sacrament of penance
imposed. That it really had no more extended meaning for him than
this is strongly suggested in his later recollection of that occasion on
which he was reminded of this "command to hope" by the priest to
whom he was confessing. There, he recalled, he was told to hope in
God's mercy and go in peace. But the result, he added, was that he
continued to be extremely disturbed over the conditional nature of
absolution.58
Recognizing, however, the distress that can continue to come to a
person of sensitive conscience as he views the nature of his own works
in the light of the judgment of God, the authors of the medieval litera
ture of consolation sought to provide a still further means for the
tempering of despair. It was their added suggestion that the laws

which one attempts to fulfill as he endeavors to attain to holiness need
not be affirmed in all of their seeming severity. Their requirements
can be modified and the seriousness of violations against them be
lessened, thus providing to even the person of unusually sensitive con
science a basis for consolation in his effort to bring them to fulfillment.
Certainly, it was held, this is true of the laws of the church in the sense
that violation of ecclesiastical ordinances need not be construed as
mortal sins. But, it was added, this modification of severity could also
be applied to the law of God—and in a twofold sense. A first applica
tion had to do with the distinction between precepts and counsels.
Though a fulfillment of the counsels of the law is salutary, still it is
never really required for salvation. It is enough to follow the precepts,
even though they are a lesser good, for they are still good by virtue of
the fact that they are the commands of God.59 Though more could have
been required, God is content with adherence to the precepts which he
has given.60 And second, it was further held that the precepts them
selves are never to be thought of as beyond the power of human ful
fillment. Violation of the precepts can indeed be mortal sin, but one
must remember that God does not require anything which man can
not accomplish.61 Thus, when one "does all that lies within him," he
can be confident of the acceptability of his life before God.
Probably the modification of ecclesiastical law, especially as it ap
plied to liturgical and devotional requirements, was not particularly
relevant to Luther's situation, for his despair was of a nature more
profound than the type of scrupulosity which worried over penalties
for carelessness in the use of one's ecclesiastical vestments or for negli
gence in the saying of one's canonical hours. It is true, of course, that
Luther had been taught the seriousness of offense involved in violation
of the monastic Rule and of the ecclesiastical requirements in general,
and he was unquestionably concerned over the matter of correct ful
fillment. Even allowing for the polemic element which colored his later
recollections, one must recognize the kind of factuality that undoubt
edly lay behind his remembrances pertaining to this matter. For in
stance, it was undoubtedly an expression of later exaggeration when
he said that under the papacy he had learned that fornication, adultery,
murder, and theft could be annulled through indulgences, whereas if
one did not have a candle in the Mass he was guilty of an unforgivable
sin for which no indulgence was furnished,62 and yet he knew this
latter to be a very serious offense. Similarly, that the prayers of the
liturgies were a "torture" to him in the monastery undoubtedly rested
in some real measure on his knowledge that neglect or error of even a

most minute nature in the reading of the responses of the choir was
deemed sufficient to place him in danger of a very serious judgment.63
Thus there is also reason to recognize the personal basis for Luther's
later praise of Gerson as one who does assist the conscience by showing
that these ecclesiastical offenses are not really mortal sins.64 Yet, again,
this aspect of the matter would not have touched Luther's deepest prob
lem. In the last analysis he was not simply a monastic Skrupulant.
Deeper than the problem of the Rule was the problem of righteous
ness. More profound than concern over the liturgy was concern over
love. The modification of the ecclesiastical law may have provided
some consolation at one level, but by no means did this relieve the
more troubling element in Luther's despair. That had to do with his
relationship to the requirements for love and righteousness in the
divine law itself.
It is at this crucial point, however, that the consolations offered
through modification of the law failed to speak effectively to Luther's
problem. On the one hand, his primary difficulty was not with the
counsels but with precepts. The requirements of poverty, chastity, and
obedience were not the principal cause of his trouble, but rather the
underlying command to love God with his whole heart, of which the
fulfillment of the evangelical counsels was but a higher expression.
He knew himself to be a sinner not because he could not live in pov
erty, but because his actual self-denial was motivated by self-love; not
because he could not be chaste, but because his actual chastity lacked
the motivations of spontaneity out of love for God which it should pos
sess; not because he could not bow his will in humility to that of his
monastic superior, but because that very humility became occasion for
self-congratulation and pride. Thus Luther's chief difficulty with the
law lay in his seeming inability to fulfill even that minimum require
ment of love for God which was laid upon all, and it would then be
of little help to be reminded that a fulfillment of the evangelical
counsels is not actually necessary for salvation.
But even more important, the further suggestion of modifying the
precepts themselves could have little meaning for one in Luther's state
of mind. Luther's primary point of reference in understanding the
content of the law was not anthropocentric, but theocentric. It is God's
law which is laid upon men. That is the basic consideration, and the
law's content is to be determined, therefore, not in terms of man's
power for fulfillment, but solely in terms of God's desires in require
ment. God may actually require more than one can accomplish, but
MEDIEVAL CONSOLATION AND THE YOUNG LUTHER S DESPAIR 71
one's responsibility is by no means lessened thereby.65 And so Luther

knew himself to be confronted by a supreme obligation. The very
voice of God spoke to him, demanding perfection. He could not
modify in any way these requirements, but only seek to obey. The
great peril of a false security was in fact present in any attempt to be
lieve that God's demands are not as strict as they really are.66 So the
modification of the divine law could bring no consolation, for Luther
began his thinking not with man, but with God.
There is also a further dimension of Luther's agony and the con
solation offered to it which needs to be noted, however, for the time
came in his monastic struggle when his despair moved beyond despair
of self to be likewise a despair of God. To his tentationes de indignitate
there were added tentationes de praedestinatione.97 In specifying the
character of this latter distress, it needs to be observed that this in
volved genuine fear of predestination to punishment by arbitrary
divine action. The stress of the via moderna upon the freedom of the
human will in the process of salvation did not mean that the theologi
cal system was completely and unalterably tied to the rationalism of a
pattern of merit and reward. Had that been true, there could be no
fear of predestination as divine arbitrariness, for God himself would
be bound by the requirements of his justice, and predestination would
simply be based upon foreknowledge of one's merits or sins. But ac
tually, the voluntarism of the via moderna stressed the freedom of
the divine will, as well as the human, and thus the possibility of a
shattering of the rationalism of the system of merit and reward through
the irrationalism of the free actions of an arbitrary God. It would seem
to be this additional element of the potential divine caprice that be
came basis for the further intensity of Luther's anguished experience.68
It was as one who, while seeking to earn his salvation through the
meritoriousness of his works, could not be certain that even the best
of those works would be accepted by God as meritorious, that Luther
experienced his deepest despair in this monastic period. Thus he later
recalled that though he followed faithfully the requirements for prayer
set forth by his Order, he could not have the assurance that God was
pleased thereby.69 The same uncertainty of acceptability accompanied
the saying of the Mass,70 and when he had devoted himself most fully
to the ascetic works of his calling, mortifying his flesh almost to point
of death, he was still troubled by the question, "Who knows if these
are pleasing to God?"71 And then uncertainty gave rise to fear, the
terrible fear that God had arbitrarily chosen not to be for him but to
be against him. Now it mattered not, so he believed, even if he made
full atonement for his sins, for God's judgment would still rest upon
him.72 God was his antagonist, and there was no escape. He faced the
terrible question, "Who knows if I am one to whom God has chosen
to be merciful?",73 and with it the haunting fear that God had indeed
chosen to reject him and to consign him to the everlasting pains of
hell.74 This was the abyss of deepest despair, the sense of being for
saken through an arbitrary act of divine predestination.75
But even such agony, of course, was not unknown to the writers of
medieval consolation. And yet once again, the consolation offered was
not only unavailing, but actually failed by virtue of the fact that it,
too, led Luther back into his fruitless struggle with the law. The
dominant emphasis found in the consolation for predestination-distress
urged that one recognize these experiences as sent by God for redemp
tive purposes. By bringing intense doubt and despair they can assist in
the elimination of pride and false security. Indeed they can then also
lead conversely to the development of saving virtue, for as one endures
the sufferings patiently, his presumption can be changed into that
humility which will make him more worthy of eternal favor. And then
the further word is also added that this is, actually, the highest manner
in which a conformity to Christ can be expressed. Christ himself knew
despair—and most intensely through a sense of being divinely for
saken. Even he was not spared a spiritual descent into hell and all the
fear of God's willful abandonment. And so as the nature of meritorious-
ness is to be found in a conformity to the life of Christ, the highest
type of merit lies in a following of this aspect of Christ's experience,
entering with him into the pit of its suffering and enduring with him
the intensity of its pain. The experiences of predestination-despair can
be viewed as God's instruments leading one on the path to salvation.76
With such thoughts as these Luther was likewise most assuredly
familiar. Not only were they in the literature of consolation, but also
they would have come to him from Staupitz, who frequently consoled
Luther in this despair.77 To some extent, of course, they must have in
fluenced him positively. He later found consolation for this type of
agony by seeing in it a conformity to Christ, though the meaning of
that conformity came to be interpreted by him in a radically different
fashion. It is not that one finds in Christ even at this point an example
to be followed for the achievement of merit, but rather that one can
look at the fact of Christ in the faith that what God worked in him by
way of victory over predestination-despair can also be worked by God
in us. The conformity is thus envisaged as a triumphant act not of
human, but of divine, power.78
In the light of this, however, it is not too much to presume that in

the monastic years, and thus before the development of this evangelical
interpretation, the consolation of conformitas Christi was not funda
mentally helpful and perhaps even led to an intensification of Luther's
basic problem. The underlying presupposition was still that of work-
righteousness as the way to salvation, and the proclamation of the di
vine purpose of these predestination-terrors was still a call to merit.
Thus Luther would have been confronted once again with the obliga
tion resting upon him for the development of the humility worthy of
salvation and led anew into the despair which any such effort in
evitably brought forth. Even the consolation for fear of predestination
threw him back into the struggle with the law.
One final word of general consolation, however, was offered to de
spairing spirits by the medieval church, for it was held that in the last
analysis no one could be absolutely certain about his salvation unless
that certainty were given to him by a special revelation. A certain
amount of doubt was a normal part of the life both of the world-
Christian and of the monk. Thomas Aquinas had laid down this
principle centuries earlier,79 and Johann Paltz has enunciated it again
in Luther's own day.80 The Christian must find a middle ground be
tween absolute certainty and despair, and that meant that a measure
of doubt would be natural in his religious outlook. The best for which
one could hope would be a moral or probable certainty that his life
is acceptable to God.81
So Luther knew that even though a man was righteous he could not
be absolutely confident of his salvation until the Day of Judgment.82
He learned that though one lived righteously, he still could not be cer
tain that he was in the state of grace.83 Indeed, he even knew that when
one had fulfilled all of the requirements of the law, he ought then
to pray that God guard him from being so presumptuous as actually
to believe that he now possessed the Holy Ghost.84 Thus the medieval
tradition taught Luther that absolute certainty was impossible and
that doubt was a normal part of the religious life.85 If all else failed,
could not this become a means of consolation for him in his despair?
The key to the answer would seem to lie in the final word of the
question itself, for the fact is that Luther was not in the state of sim
ple doubt, but in that of utter despair. His basic problem was not that
of one who seemingly fulfilled the law and then remained uncertain
as to whether or not his work would really be accepted, but rather
that of one who could not believe that the law had been fulfilled in
the first place in the actions of his life. The consolation of the nor
mality of doubt presupposed the presence of a certain amount of con

fidence; namely, the probable certainty that one is in the state of
grace. But for Luther not even this degree of certainty was possible,
for he was far too conscious of his sin. Thus, though doubt was nor
mal, Luther knew his doubts to be abnormal, and he could find no
help here. His problem struck deeper than the level of necessary un
certainty of grace, for his struggle was with the law, which he could
not fulfill, and then with the angry God who would condemn him
eternally for his failure to fulfill it. Consolation couched in the pat
terns of legalism could not provide real help. Such help could come
only with the advent of evangelical understanding.
Luther's Frontier in Hungary
William Toth
On August 1, 1533 the Hungarian bishop at Szerem, Stephen Bro-

darics, dispatched a lengthy letter to Pope Clement VII (1523-1534) in
which he reported the alarming spread of "Lutheranism" in Hun
gary.1 The teachings of Luther and his followers, he wrote, have
penetrated the entire kingdom, the areas under the jurisdiction of
Ferdinand as well as Transylvania ruled by John Zipolya, and are
assiduously striking deeper and deeper roots. Everything is coming
under the sway of Lutheran teachings, which are widely preached.
The priests are marrying, indulgences and dispensations are despised,
and the representatives of the Holy See are lost for counsel against
such things. To their defense of indulgences comes the inevitable reply
from every mouth: freely you have received, freely give.2 Everywhere
there is preaching in criticism of the Roman See and it seems advis
able to omit the complaints against excessive taxation, the neglect of
spiritual things and concern for merely the material things of life.
There is need for a council and the restoration of many things, he ad
monishes. No reasonable arguments can be marshalled in defense of
the old verities which the followers of Luther, Brodarics continues in
another letter,3 counter with quotations from the Gospels and the let
ters of Paul. The report of Paul Szondi, the apostolic penitentiary,
will confirm these observations, he adds.
The intelligence of this advance of the Lutheran heresy brought a
quick reply from the Pope,4 whose anxiety is understandable not only
in light of the political developments in the home base of this reli
gious deviation but also because from the beginning of his pontificate
Clement had been designated as "Protector of Hungary," an honor he
took seriously. Now even in his protectorate a new frontier of the Lu
theran heresy was developing to plague the Roman curia.
This enormous success on the eastern periphery of the Roman
church is a historical phenomenon taking place somewhere in the
middle of Luther's career as a reformer.5 Before his death in 1546 his
movement will have arrived at a peak point of achievement in Hun-
r
gary. Then it will yield to the predominating influence of Calvinism.

How the adoption of the "new faith" occurred and what factors in
Hungarian history and Luther's movement interplayed to bring about
this religious reorientation during Luther's lifetime will be the bur
den of this essay.
The ready acceptance of the "new" tenets in Hungary cannot be ac
counted for merely as the result of historical circumstances at the turn
of the sixteenth century, often regarded as transitional by Catholic his
torians of this age. A full understanding will come by asking whether
there was a disposition in the inherent character of the Hungarian
church to respond favorably to such a program as that which chal
lenged the age from Wittenberg. A complete answer to this question
would lead us too far afield. Nevertheless, several considerations are in
order.
Hungarians, having been Christianized,8 had developed their po
litical, social, economic, and intellectual life on the patterns dominant
in the West during the Middle Ages. The kingdom of St. Stephen, in
its institutions and customs, generally came to reflect the powerful in
fluences that were already established in the Romano-Germanic west.
For instance, the first Hungarian university at Veszprem, founded dur
ing the reign of Bela III (d. 1196)7 was copied in every respect after
Paris. Another profound effect of the West upon Hungary was the
nature of feudalism as it was inherited. To this day Hungary has not
outgrown the agricultural economy that its mentor, the church, with
its scholastic philosophy and its system of latifundia, cultivated so
zealously. By and large, the nomadic Hungarians adopted western
culture and grew up in identification with it. Yet, a resistance to this
universalism in favor of national individuality is a recurrent theme of
these first five hundred years. The Hungarian clergy always provided
leadership to such opposition.8 Although basically loyal to the reli
gious institution and culture which in the heyday of Cluniac influence
brought it into being, the Hungarian church, in its unique constitu
tional role, generally looked upon itself as a ward of the nation against
hostile designs either of the nobility or the Roman curia.9 Moreover,
both clergy and nobility, maintaining lively contacts with western cul
ture, were well acquainted with western efforts in the thirteenth and
fourteenth centuries to assert nationalism over against the universal
claims of the church. Their king, Sigismund, played a key role in one
of the most notable encounters between universalism and nationalism
at Constance, to which Hungarian prelates and nobles, representatives
of towns, professors, and students of the University at Buda, were wit
luther's front1er in Hungary 77
nesses.10 From this and succeeding reform councils they took back to
their country knowledge of contemporary critical thought in support
of their own interests, if these were jeopardized by Rome.
While the Hungarian church was initiated and developed integrally
with the Roman organization, political circles again and again as
sumed skeptical, if not hostile, attitudes toward the political aims and
alliances of the Roman curia.11 A common front with universal west
ern Christianity might ensure the survival of the nation, but in the
process of state-building it was also interpreted to mean jeopardizing
its national independence. As universalism was breaking down in fa
vor of particularism represented by national interests, the Hungarian
nation clearly was part of the tug-of-war. Paradoxically, the nation be
came aware of Luther's movement both because it shared in the tra
dition of universalism and because of the rising force of particular
ism. Isolation from the cultural climate was unthinkable.
The nation could, of course, have turned to the church in the East,
with which it was contiguous along its Transylvanian border. Perhaps
the only influence emanating from this direction was the confirmation
of a concept already well established in the West, namely, that Chris
tianity can exist without a Roman pontiff to whom Christ demands
obedience from all. Adherents of Constantinople and Rome had for
centuries constituted a legal problem in Transylvania. Coexistence tri
umphed, and with the increasing influx of Eastern Orthodox—Ruma
nians, Ruthenians and Serbs—these schismatics were ultimately even
given exemption from the payment of tithes. Fraternization among
peoples led to mutual appreciation as well as reciprocal conversions.12
By the sixteenth century one fourth of Transylvania was made up of
Rumanians;13 their physical existence alone tended to minimize the
idea of unchangeableness and subtly to fortify the concept of a pos
sible alternative interpretation of Christianity.14
The most virile contact with the West immediately prior to the
Reformation movement was, of course, Humanism. The Renaissance
ruler, Matthias Corvinus, opened the floodgates which the inept rule
of his Jagelloan successors could not close.16 Critical thinking, as else
where on the continent, found a place in the numerous houses of the
monastic orders and their schools. Pelbart Temesvari achieved such
eminence as preacher, for instance, that between 1498 and 1521 his
sermons reached fifty-two editions.17 Young men from the upper social
group and from the prosperous cities went abroad to study at Paris,
Prague, Vienna, Cracow, and the Italian universities. Statistics for the
years 1458-1490 show 1263 students at Cracow, 951 at Vienna, and
66 at Padua in addition to those enrolled in the native university at

Pozsony where Humanism thrived.18 The membership of the Danubian
Sodality included several outstanding Hungarian humanists.19 The
influence of Erasmus, however, appears to have been limited, for by
the time his writings found their way into Hungary they were con
fronted with the more acceptable Lutheran views. Nevertheless, the
tide of Erasmian piety seems to be reflected, at least partially, in the
endeavors of urban communities to expand their autonomous privi
leges by selecting qualified clergy for their pulpits, controlling eccle
siastical benefices, and directing religious and moral life without re
spect to episcopal legalities.20 Separation from Roman officialdom
could not have been contemplated even if the laws of Matthias against
heretics had not equated it with treason,21 but an alienation of spirit
involving critical thought and a sensitivity to change was definitely
cultivated.22 Traditional ideals and institutions were being subjected
to re-examination and a climate of liberality favored new forces of
thought.
The strong, centralized rule of Matthias ended in 1490 with his
death and the succession of two weak foreign kings, Wladislas II (1490-
1516) and Louis II (1516-1526), ushered in an era of reckless confusion
throughout the nation on all levels. The feudal lords were bent upon
re-establishing a medieval order based upon private agreements. Their
eagerness to enlarge their power and their landholdings was only par
tially checked by an embryonic middle class, the lesser nobility,
which was just emerging politically and struggling hard for its in
dependence, influence, and rights23 and demanded its share of the
national wealth. In the scramble for power, position, and prestige,
the politically immature and socially insecure representatives of the
lesser nobility were tempted to make deals with the old families, as
Stephen Werboczi, the author of the Tripartitum or the codification
of laws, and, if unsuccessful, to rally the true nationalists and the dis
gruntled elements under the banner of the opposition, like John Za-
polya, wealthy governor of Transylvania. The authority of the crown
and constitutionalism were openly flaunted by islands of oligarchies in
pursuit of self-aggrandizement. Not only was the country exposed by
these circumstances to possible attack from the threatening Turkish
menace on the outside but, internally, the confusion fomented dis
satisfactions. Most symptomatic of this condition was the Peasants' Re
volt of 1514, headed by George D6zsa, a nobleman who was supported
by the leaders and priests of the privileged agricultural towns. But
equally reflecting the dissatisfactions of the times was the growing
luther's frontier in Hungary 79
strength of the nationalist party in the Diet, which, attributing the
deplorable state of things to the presence of a foreigner on the throne,
succeeded in 1505 in forcing through a law that forbade the future
election of anyone but a native son. The connivance of Wladislaw
with the emperor, Maximilian I, successfully frustrated this national
istic aim in the election of Louis II but did not allay the fears of
nationalists, for the king, though well-meaning, was too inexperienced
to cope with corruption in high places, economic deterioration, and
the nervous confusion occasioned by the military proximity of the
Turks. "In state and church alike there emerged rifts, disintegration,
parties, bent upon mutual annihilation," concludes a historian.24
The moral leadership of the church in the midst of chaos and con
fusion had ample opportunity to assert itself, as it so often did in the
past, but it did not. Along with the authority of the king, ecclesiastical
influence was on the downgrade. A Catholic historian provides us
with the following description of conditions in the Hungarian church
at the turn of the century: "Even more devastating upon the church
were its own sins and deficiencies, prevailing disorders in government,
the breakdown of discipline, and the immorality of the priesthood.
. . . The bishops vied with secular lords in pomp, excesses and worldly
pleasures and, to pay for them, preoccupied themselves in amassing
wealth.25 Some engaged in trade; others joined up with Jews to lend
money on interest . . . Others exploited the lower clergy to such an
extent that they had to seek the protection of the nobles . . . The
lower clergy were no better than their superiors. The decrees of coun
cils testify that the morals of the clergy taken as a whole were not such
as to set an example of Christian life to the people. Ignorant in the
main,26 many of them engaged in worldly pursuits and neglected the
people who, for lack of schools,27 depended solely upon the church
for instruction. The natural consequence of this was that the minds
of the people were not enlightened by sacred instruction . . . religion
lost its power over the people through ignorant and indolent priests,
its true significance was not comprehended and it degenerated into
sensual, outward mechanical ceremonies."28
Patently, the Hungarian church at the end of the Middle Ages had
lost its capacity to give direction and example to national life. Para
lyzed to a greater degree by its inward deterioration than by the ca
tastrophe at Mohacs later in 1526, it stood in sore need of spiritual
quickening. Many sensed this need not only among the people at the
grassroots but also among those who assumed their reform position
on the basis of a clear knowledge of reformist activities prevailing in
other parts of the universal western church. The hammer blows of

Luther on the castle church door at Wittenberg in 1517 could readily
attract favorable attention in the kingdom of St. Stephen lying athwart
both sides of the Southern stretches of the Danube.
Several factors must be considered which at the time militated
strongly against Luther's success among Hungarians.
One of these was the predominance of foreign advisors at the court,
which caused the nationalist party to strive toward closing its ranks.
The proponents of nationalism despised everything foreign—king,
priests, nobility, but especially everything that was German. The
papal nuncio perceptively reported to Rome: "Hungary and Ger
many are natural enemies, on account of which whatever is favored
by one is certainly to be rejected by the other."29 The queen, Maria,
sister of Ferdinand the Hapsburg ruler of Austria, was German;
George of Brandenburg,30 having become ward of the infant king,
was all the more unpopular in the higher nationalist circles as he
married the widow of John Corvinus, inherited the vast possessions
of the Hunyadys, and blocked the ambitions of certain Hungarian
nobles to obtain this influential office. The councils of the nation ap
pear to have fallen prey to foreign domination, a circumstance all the
more perilous to nationalists as the court entertained and encouraged
the heretical pestis and, in a tight spot, threatened more than once to
embrace Lutheranism in case the Pope allied himself with Francis
against the Hapsburg Charles. This strong opposition of the nation
alists lulled even the clear-headed papal nuncio, Burgio, into a sense
of false security vis-d-vis the growing influence of Lutheranism, when
as late as August 17, 1524 he transmitted this intelligence to Rome:
"Since Hungarians are great enemies of the Germans, I suspect that
one of these days they will be involved in a great scandal on the pre
text that they do not wish to tolerate Lutherans."31 The nationalists,
however, were soon to rise above this antipathy and reverse their po
sition toward the new movement.
Closely allied with this deterrent factor was the Turkish threat,
which like the sword of Damocles hung over the nation. Where to
obtain aid in this national peril? Nationalists felt that security could
not be based on the foreign influences ensconced in the court. The
head of Christendom had again and again failed central-European
peoples in the previous century. Singlehanded, Hungarian leaders
like John Hunyady and his son, Matthias Corvinus, had effectively
held back the tide of Ottoman invasion, a feat accomplished only by
dint of the unified effort of the nation itself, it was felt by national
ists. Lack of confidence in the ability of the leading group to hold the
reins of government competently and with moral responsibility was
confirmed in the minds of nationalists, beyond a shadow of doubt,
when, in 1521, a powerful Turkish thrust reached the Southern lines
of fortifications and the government was in no position to render as
sistance to the outposts. The moral bankruptcy of the court was ex
ceeded only by the financial muddle into which the country had
gotten.32 Nationalists shared the views of the Venetian envoy who re
ported concerning the vast national potentials of Hungary: "If the
King of Hungary were in a position to dispose freely of his country's
natural resources and manpower, he could easily vie with any other
ruler."33 The king could be in this position of strength to defend the
nation, provided the person of the king were one which represented
the will of the nation. To the nationalists of the lesser nobility the
foreign kings at Buda constituted the chief obstacle to national se
curity. As a political weapon, therefore, the presence of a foreigner
at the head of the nation explained to them why the Turkish thrust
continued unabated, why the treasury was empty, why no effective
strategy of self-defense emerged, and why the taxes and the precious
possessions of the church were being dissipated. Meanwhile, however,
to bobter its position the court, nobles and high priests alike, had not
only professed its undying adherence to the old faith, still persuaded
to secure its power and position through whatever strength was in
herent in the old order, but it also went so far as to enact stringent
laws against "heresy," in order to demonstrate its unswerving loyalty.
At this point, many among the lesser nobility of native Hungarians
began to look with greater favor upon the new religious views and,
in this change of heart, affected of course by a complex of elements,
national feeling particularly after the catastrophe of Mohacs saw the
future of the nation in the radical changes advocated by Luther. The
Saxons in Transylvania joined the Hungarian lords. Nationalism and
Reformation merged.
At first, the Peasants' Revolt in Germany, generally believed to have
been caused by Lutheranism, tended to offset the shift. But, a ques
tion gradually dawned upon the minds of many: Had not the revolt
of the Hungarian lower classes preceded that? There was no Luther
then. The causes of social and economic dissatisfaction, then, are more
basic. Moreover, what redress of grievances came about as a result of
the national rebellion under D6zsa? None, but the further depression
of social and economic conditions by the court and its adherents in its
pursuit of wanton self-aggrandizement. It became evident that na
tional improvement depended upon an intellectual, social, and eco

nomic program that found its basis in something else—in the liber
ating ideals of the German Reformer.
Concerning the swift circulation of the ninety-five theses throughout
Europe a contemporary wrote that within four weeks these propositions
went into all of Christendom.34 Tetzel noted in a letter to Miltitz be
fore the end of this notable year, "Since Martin Luther the Augustin-
ian aroused and set the nobility against me—not only throughout
Germany but also in the kingdoms of Bohemia, Hungary and Poland,
I am safe nowhere."35
How did they get into Hungary? General agreement prevails among
Hungarian scholars, in spite of the lack of evidences, that the first car
riers were the traders and monastic priests, both foreign and native.36
By 1521 Stephen Werboczi, one of the notable delegates to Worms,
claims to be fully informed of Luther's views from personal reading
of his works.37 One John Korb writes to the priest of Selmecbanya,
Gregory Soravus, in August 1521 that he has sent him several Luther
books of great interest.38 That the writings of Luther were being read
is confirmed by the testimony of a citizen of Sopron who during the
search for heretics in 1524 affirmed that he could not rightfully be
blamed for reading books that were being sold in the open market.39
The popularity of the Luther writings must have mounted consid
erably, since the king felt constrained to dispatch a letter of warning
to the citizens of Nagyszeben at the beginning of 1524 in which he
said, "We have been informed and shocked that the sacrilegious teach
ings of a certain Martin Luther, long ago excommunicated along with
his followers from the church by the apostolic Holy See, should have
so beclouded the reason of many everywhere that, disregarding the
evangelical truth and the teachings of the fathers, all of you should
possess, read and observe the books written by him."40 In February of
1525 an even stronger edict, sent to the citizens of Bartfa, imposed the
penalty of death and the confiscation of goods upon those holding
Lutheran views and books.41 The first martyr to the cause was a hum
ble servant of the brother of Conrad Cordatus, who in 1524 sent some
Luther books to friends in Buda, where the purveyor of the forbidden
literature was burned,42 while around the same time a similar fate
overtook a German merchant on the Western boundaries of the coun
try at the hands of a nobleman.43 The proscribed books of Luther were
penetrating into all corners of the land.44 On the estates of certain
lesser nobles, like Peter Per^nyi and Thomas Nadasdy, who achieved
independent political power as nationalists, protection was not want-
y >
luther's front1er 1n Hungary 83
ing by 1525;45 on the estates of others, many evidences of persecution
were likewise noted.
Although the archbishop of Esztergom, George Szathmari, as pri
mate of Hungary ordered (1521) the reading of the papal bull against
Luther,46 outstanding preachers like Paul Speratus (1484-1551), who
went to Hungary from Wiirzburg in 1522, and Simon Grynaeus, who
had found a safe haven at Buda after a checkered career as a liberal
in Vienna, introduced Luther in the pulpit. The royal court at Buda
became a center of reform ideas, Queen Mary and George of Bran
denburg, the king's ward, being very sympathetic listeners of Conrad
Cordatus until his banishment in 1524. Other preachers followed
suit,47 presumably preaching in the vernacular.48 These sermons went
far in their advocacy of reform ideas. They demanded freedom in the
practice of religious beliefs and changes in the mass,49 particularly
with respect to the possibility of omitting auricular confession.50 The
procession was declared to be useless51 and the building of churches
and altars not a necessary evidence of piety.52 The primary duty of
the preacher, the citizens of Selmeczbanya observed, was to preach
the word of God.53
Particularly odious in the eyes of preachers of the liberal persuasion
was the sale of indulgences, the concrete evidence for which is to be
seen in the failure of the special fund-raising campaign of 1525.54
Burgio reported that at Buda only 300 florins were received, disillu
sioning to say the least, all the more since when the collection box
was opened there were found chips of glass and ceramic, counterfeit
coins, and a note reading, "Take your holy year to Rome and leave
us our money." The papal nuncio was moved to inform Sadoleto:
"From these you may see how the religious situation has deteriorated
in this country in the last twenty-five years." A quarter century earlier
the collection amounted to 125,000 florins, while now, he lamented,
it will be fortunate to get three to four thousand—a sad deteriora
tion for which he held Luther responsible.55
Luther's attack upon the Roman doctrine of excommunication,
likewise, found its supporters.56 The right of depriving people from
salvation, they declared, lay within the jurisdiction of God not man,
particularly not men who used this disciplinary instrument to force
the collection of moneys. Wherever Luther became known, fasting
also was abandoned. In 1524 the regions of Szeben and Brass6 flaunted
the regulations by consuming proscribed foods on fast days.57
The power of the clergy came under attack first of all among the
citizens of towns. Priests were ridiculed in songs,58 a practice becom
ing so annoyingly widespread that the bishop of Gyulafehervar issued

an extensive pastoral letter in which he threatened the perpetrators
with excommunication.59 Sermons were demanding that canonical
law in general, since it had originated in the mind of the devil not
the Holy Spirit, be declared invalid. Even the spiritual authority of
the priesthood was questioned in a sermon (1524) at Sopron by one
who claimed that the Pope and the bishop have no more authority
than a simple priest,60 while two years later a "Lutheran" priest was
charged with teaching that everyone is a priest and may baptize.61
Clerical celibacy also was condemned as a device of the hierarchy to
bolster its power position82 and, more often violated than observed,
constituted a source of scandalous behavior so that, while formerly
adulterers were barred from attendance at mass, now adulterers and
fornicators were permitted to recite it63 before the altar. The effects
of such preaching were soon visible in the number of those who for
sook the religious orders, took wives to themselves, and achieved
peace of mind in the resolution of former inner conflicts.
That these ideas were having their effect upon the young men of
the nation is borne out by the fact that an increasing number of stu
dents were being attracted to Wittenberg. The rectors of the univer
sity noted thirteen of them between 1522 and 1526 and nine more
by 1530 in spite of the confusion regnant throughout Hungary after
the battle of Mohacs.64 No records exist to tell of reform activities
by them upon their return except in the case of Matthias Biro Devay,
of whom more later, but it is noteworthy that, from the twenties on,
the trend among Hungarian students going abroad was to seek out
and study at the centers of the Reformation movement.65
Let us look next at the attitudes manifested at the court prior to
the Mohacs catastrophe.
The spread of Luther's doctrines was definitely affected by the char
acter of Louis II 's court. A mere child at his enthronement in 1516,
Louis was regarded as a "talented youth" but "too inexperienced, too
young, and too much under the influence of his courtiers."66 The
fulcrum of political power lay in the hands of George of Branden
burg, the king's ward, and Stephen Werboczi, the palatine, who con
stitutionally stood next in legal authority to the king. After Louis'
marriage in 1521, the young queen, Maria, granddaughter of Maxi
milian I, exerted considerable influence in setting a cultural tone
that appealed alike to the German retinue of the Brandenburgian
prince and the liberal-minded Germans whom the queen brought
with her from Vienna. An Erasmian, she favored the critical preach
luther's front1er 1n Hungary 85
ing of Conrad Cordatus and John Henckel, protected them, and at
once stood in the cross fires of party strife in religious matters. Luther
fully appreciated her services to the cause as witnessed by the com
forting words expressed in the dedicatory preface to his Vier trost-
liche Psalmen an die Konigen zu £/ngarn.67 Werboczi remained a con
firmed adherent of the old faith.68 The Brandenburgian prince was
not above providing a stiff defense of his controversial compatriot in
after dinner conferees but his sympathies merely served, in the begin
ning, to alienate nationalists toward the court. The hierarchy was
ably represented—the papal curia by Cardinal Thomas Vio and An
tonio Giovanni barone del Burgio, sent as nuncio in the middle of 1523
with 60,000 gold pieces in his strongbox for the use of the king.70
Wielding great influence, especially in view of his control over the
papal funds deposited in the Fugger bank of Buda, Burgio considered
his most urgent function the collection of funds for defense against
the Turks and the maintenance of a strong state organization that
could be depended upon by the Pope. "If this country were in agree
ment and had a good government," he asserted, "this country would
be most effective in deterring the Turks."71 At the head of the hier
archy and occupying the third position of power in the nation was
Laszl6 Szalkay, archbishop of Esztergom, competent, a consummate
orator, a cobbler's son skyrocketed into prominence, thus hungry for
property and for the cardinal's hat promised him. One of his first
acts after his elevation to the highest ecclesiastical post of the land
was to have Grynaeus, Cordatus, Kreisling, and other liberal preach
ers displaced and driven from the country; yet eager to express his
loyalty to the royalty surrounded by liberal Germans, he could scarcely
exert himself fully in behalf of the old faith. We cannot know the real
sentiments of the young king. As ruler his behavior toward the church
was in every respect correct, no doubt due to the presence of the papal
dignitaries and his dependence upon their financial assistance. Such
pressure, presumably, lay behind his letter to Frederick of Saxony in
1524 protesting his protection of Lutheran heresies and, thereby, be
ing the cause of disorders in other countries. Frederick in the same
year assured Louis that the faults attributed to Luther by the king,
namely that he spreads doctrines contrary to Christianity, that he in
sults Christian princes and praises the Turks, are malicious fabrica
tions.72 This intriguing bit of royal correspondence ends on this note.
The attitude of the government found most apt expression in the
legal enactment of the Diet of 1523 at Buda and in another for which
the Diet of Rakos was responsible in 1525. The law of 1523 revived
the medieval penalty concerning the loss of head and the confisca
tion of goods for heresy and in Article 54 called upon the ruler "as
a Catholic prince to punish every Lutheran, their supporters and
followers as open heretics and the enemies of the most holy virgin
Mary."73 Two years later the penalty was increased to burning at the
stake. The law clearly stated that "all Lutherans must be rooted from
the country and wherever they may be found, they must be freely ap
prehended by ecclesiastical as well as secular authorities and burned."74
That secular authorities should be extended such wide powers, con
trary to the ius canonicum, indicates without a shadow of doubt the
extent to which Lutheran reform ideas had penetrated the country
by now.
The consequences of this law, reluctantly confirmed by the signa
ture of the king, are noteworthy. The representative of the emperor,
the Lutheran Schnaidpeck, left the country; so did the Brandenburg-
ian prince; likewise, a large percentage of the queen's German reti
nue.75 A German bookseller was burned and other burnings followed.
Werboczi was reported to have miserably tortured eight Lutherans
on his estates.78 Other lords acted similarly, and news of their martyr
dom reached even Luther.77 A campaign against suspects in Buda dur
ing the summer of 1525 yielded one Lutheran who under severe tor
ture confessed the names of other fellow travelers. So many of the
most prominent citizens were involved that, on the advice of certain
sober members of the government, among them the queen, the case
against them was dropped on the ground that the city would become
depopulated through the executions and reduced to a village.78 For
tunately for the harassed, protection was amply available by this time
on estates scattered in various parts of the land,79 but the queen's po
sition excited the nuncio's suspicions of her liberal flirtations.
Louis, prevailed upon partly by the nationalists and by the orthodox
ecclesiastics, dispatched officials to ferret out the heretics and edicts to
supplement the law in towns where defections had been reported. To
Saros County, where, according to reliable sources, "many, especially
ecclesiastics, profess the Lutheran sect and diffuse it openly and every
where," he wrote that defectors should be mercilessly punished lest
the common people be led astray.80 To the city council of Bartfa a
much firmer tone characterized the royal edict: "In as much as we
have been shocked to learn that among you is a master from Cracow
but who was born in your city, as well as others, who profess the Lu
theran heresy and sect, in open contempt of our published orders, we
thereby enjoin upon you, under penalty of the loss of head and goods,
luther's front1er in Hungary 87
immediately to search out the aforementioned master and others such
as profess the Lutheran sect and, if they are of the secular order, to
punish them by means of every instrument of torture and, if they are
of the spiritual order, to consider it your duty to surrender them to the
vicar of Eger, because, if we learn that you give aid and comfort to
these heretics and leave them unpunished, or favor them in spread
ing the pernicious Lutheran contagion among Christians, know that
the aforementioned penalties will be inflicted upon all of you with
out mercy."81 Due to the meager response to such efforts the govern
ment went so far in encouraging the enforcement of its inquisitorial
decrees as to grant all confiscated properties to the royal agent and
the landlords.82 The decree sent to Count Mark Pemfflinger, wealthy
Transylvanian governor of the Saxon "nation" long suspected of his
Lutheran leanings,83 like many other such decrees, went on the rocks
of both irrepressible enthusiasm for reform measures in Transylvania
and the menacing encampment of Sulemein's forces along the bor
ders of Hungary.
The battle of Mohacs on August 29, 1526 represents a turning point
in the destiny of the reform movement84 not only for Hungary but
also in general respects. But the agitation to drive back the Turkish
hordes occupied the attention of Europeans primarily as "the third
great menace" of the age85 and only in a secondary way out of sym
pathy for the distraught Hungarian Christians. Luther's interest, like
wise, centers predominantly upon the relationship of the Turkish
threat to the general imperial problem, included in which, of course,
was the fate of his reform movement, and not specifically to the loss
sustained by Hungary either in 1526 or 1529 or 1541 and thereafter.
When Luther dedicated his work Vier trostliche Psalmen to the wid
owed queen, he made it clear, however, that he was not unmindful
of the deeper meaning behind Hungary's disaster. If the Hungarian
bishops had not obstructed the path of the gospel, Luther wrote, the
whole world would have shouted that the Lutheran heresy was re
sponsible, but now it is incontestible that the punitive hand of God
has descended upon the people because of the obdurate opposition
to the gospel by unregenerate leaders. He blames the bishops of the
church, whose conduct had been brought to his attention by Hun
garian students at the university as well as the exiled Cordatus.86 The
Hungarian experience supports what he has been saying all along.
To Luther the Turkish menace spelled the judgment of God; it could
be removed only by a true reformation, a sine qua non of a success
ful crusade under united secular (never papal) leadership. Luther's
thesis on the Turkish question had been misconstrued in Hungary be

fore Mohacs, as it had been elsewhere, but afterwards, it is significant,
reforming preachers and secular lords stood in universal agreement
that the whip of God was lashing against the backs of his people be
cause there still were many who had not turned from the Roman
error.87 Hungarian literature after the Mohacs disaster nowhere re
fers to the opinions of Luther on the Turkish question as an argu
ment against the advancement of religious reforms.88 In fact, the op
posite is true.
One of the sources of Luther's views on the Turkish problem ap
pears to be linked to the Hungarian experiences with the Turks even
prior to Mohacs. In 1530 Luther republished a small book entitled
Libellus de ritu et moribus Turcorum with a preface in which he ex
plained that the work had so fascinated him that he deemed its re
printing worthwhile.89 He regarded the book as a true mirror of
facts. This book was written by a Hungarian—anonymously referred
to as Sebesi—who had been imprisoned by the Turks in 1438 during
the storming of Nagy Szebes in southern Hungary and who escaped
to Rome, where sometime between 1475 and 1481 he recounted his
observations on the Turks in writing. His work was reprinted anony
mously again and again and seems to have helped to focus Luther's
interest in the religious aspects of the Turkish problem.90
Luther continued to have contacts with Hungarians to the end of
his life. He corresponded with noblemen, town councillors, clergy
men, and teachers. In 1539, for example, a high government official,
whose son was being instructed by preachers of Lutheran persuasion,
inquired about Zwinglianism and Luther courteously replied, ex
pressing amazement at his thorough acquaintance with Zwingli's
opinions and urging that he remain steadfastly opposed to the Swiss
errors. As a follow-up, he subsequently sent the official the manuscript
of one of his works.91 To the citizens of Eperjes Luther wrote in 1544,
"It was with heartfelt pain that I read your sad letter, seeing God's
wrath, as well as the weighty burden of our sins, which has constrained
God to send the furious horde of Turks against us. God grant that we
may come to ourselves and by our repentance obtain reconciliation."92
During the wars against the Turks Luther frequently received news
of events in Hungary and printed them.93 Moreover, he entertained
Hungarian students in his home, one of them Matthias Bir6 of Ddva,
shortly to be called "the Hungarian Luther" in tribute to his services
to the cause, receiving free board and room and another, John Stockel,
like so many other students enjoying Luther's hospitality, remaining
in debt.94 More grateful was the Hungarian student who presented
him with some seeds, which Luther planted in his garden, believing
them to be mandrakes such as Rachel had given to Leah (Genesis
30:14).
Of the two kings, the Hapsburg Ferdinand, brother of the emperor,
and the nationalist, John Zapolya, who succeeded to the divided
throne after Mohacs, Luther had nothing but contempt for the for
mer. Both began their rule by instituting inquisitorial measures against
the followers of Luther, believing them to be responsible for the great
disaster, but, shortly, for political reasons in the midst of the twelve-
year-long civil war, relaxed their attitude. Luther, nevertheless, kept
up his blasts of criticism against Ferdinand in his letters and table
talks. While he once recognized Ferdinand as much more competent
than his brother, he had no respect for him, chiefly because, as he said,
he destroys the evangelical churches, persecutes its pastors and, with
the blood of martyrs on his hands already, he plans to extirpate Lu
therans as soon as the Turks are taken care of.95 As a matter of fact,
political conditions throughout Ferdinand's reign prevented such a
course. Indeed, some of his prominent military leaders, like William
Rogendirf and Leonard Felsz, were left undisturbed in their Lutheran
views. Against Hungarian magnates favoring reform ideals he could
not take effective punitive action, since if he did so they would defect
to the party of the nationalist king, Zapolya. Such defections he en
deavored to hold to the minimum by making munificent gifts from
the secularized ecclesiastical properties. Laws enacted toward the end
of his rule in defense of Roman Catholicism aimed, at best, to curb
the Anabaptist and Sacramentarian heresies, not the Lutheran sen^
timents of his nobility. It is also true that his hostile decrees were
generally disregarded even by his Hungarian loyalist nobles.96
With the advantage of greater perspective derived from observa
tion of a comprehensive report, Luther might have formed a truer,
more optimistic picture of the Hungarian trends. Held back by the
chaos and confusion of the war, reform activities shortly picked up
speed and developed a momentum in terms of results justifying the
conclusion that by 1545 "the separation of the majority of churches
in Hungary from the Roman Catholic church had taken place."97
Events transpiring in Hungary during the last two decades of Luther's
life had brought triumph to his cause on the central-Danubian frontier.
How may we explain this transformation? In the complexity of the
responsible factors the most decisive was the disillusionment of the
nobility in the emperor and the Pope. The emperor had turned a
deaf ear upon the plea for aid against the Turk. Clement had sent a
slim purse but through the League of Cognac diverted military as
sistance from the West, clearly showing that his Christian interests
were overshadowed by selfish political considerations. Reforming
preachers as well as nationalist noblemen did not fail to read the
signs of the times and exploit them. The nationalists of Transylvania
and elsewhere98 were not deterred from making an alliance even
with the Turkish invaders in order to obtain their political objective
of independence," according to a previous determination at the Diet
of 1505, and, even if they might otherwise have entertained scruples
regarding this alliance, the excommunication by Clement of John Za-
polya, upon whose head had been placed the sacred crown of St.
Stephen, tipped the scales. World politics also convinced many that
their future lay with the ideology that opposed both Pope and em
peror, together with their supporters. The Turkish alliance proved
to be an excellent tool for political maneuvers re-enforced by gen
uine conversions, and in the Turkish-occupied territories the pres
ence of "the scourge of God," the Turks, from whom neither Haps-
burg nor papal power could free the people, moved them to look for
aid and comfort in a renewal of religion. The unfortunate politics
of Clement severed the bonds that had bound the Hungarian nation
in loyal relations to Rome and played into the hands of Luther.
Another decisive factor aiding the advancement of the reform
movement lay in the secularization of church property. This occurred
primarily for reasons of national security. This progressive depriva
tion was made possible because prelates had fled from their estates and,
by default of circumstances, ambitious landowners had fallen heir
to them. Because the law of 1521 empowered the ruler to alienate
ecclesiastical holdings on a temporary basis for the sake of national
defense, both Ferdinand and Zapolya seized vacant benefices and kept
or distributed them liberally among their supporters. In 1539 Alean-
der, the papal nuncio, reported, for example, that Ferdinand had
sold one third of the church's secular possessions.100 Compounding
the resultant demoralization was the failure to fill ecclesiastical va
cancies with a personnel that might have defended the interests of
the church. Thus, vast ecclesiastical latifundia were transferred to
the lesser and upper nobility, among which the contending parties
desired to ensure their power position. The loss of control over lands
in the world that still operated pretty largely in the pattern of feudal
concepts signified a corresponding loss in authority directing the re
ligious sentiments of the people working the lands. Even before the
>
.
LUTHER'S FRONTIER IN HUNGARY 91
principle of cuius regio, eius religio was incorporated into law, its
practical application obtained. It is not to be supposed that conversion
occurred because of these land transfers, but rather the point is that
re-establishment of ecclesiastical control was frustrated by the new
religious climate that found its inner sources in the soul of the nation.
The period of twenty years after Mohacs reveals all the characteris
tics of a nation in a state of religious transition. What was called Lu-
theranism often amounted to purely a desire to reform without sys
tematic and sharp doctrinal focus. Around the time of Luther's death
this sharpening of the focus began to occur. In northern Hungary,
for example, it is represented by the confessional formulation, Con-
fessio Pentapolitana,101 of the five free royal towns of Kassa, Locse,
Bartfa, Eperjes, and Kisszeben, all of them Ferdinand ruled.
The Diet of 1548 had taken stringent action against heretics, men
tioning the Anabaptists and Sacramentarians by name.102 Omission
of Lutherans from the proscribed list indicated tacit toleration, par
ticularly in view of the large number of delegates in agreement with
the German Reformer's position. When the officials proceeded to
carry out the law, the citizens of these towns became apprehensive
and a meeting of the ministers was convoked at Eperjes on August 14,
1549. The religious formulation was presented to the assembled min
isters and citizens by Leonard Stoeckel, rector of the school at Bartfa,
a former student of Luther and Melanchthon.
In content this document stands in agreement with the famous
statement of faith presented over a decade and a half earlier to the
imperial Diet at Augsburg. To its irenic tone as well as its unequivocal
rejection of Anabaptism and Sacramentarianism may be attributed
the approval with which it met both in ecclesiastical circles and at
court. It accepts the orthodox Lutheran view of the Holy Eucharist103
and predestination104 and makes baptism indispensable to salvation.
With respect to religious ceremonies, order of worship, and the dress
of the clergy, the retention of old forms are recommended.
The intent of this confession was not to distinguish the new faith
from Roman Catholicism but rather to protect what was considered
the true faith from the innovations then penetrating into the land.
Unity in the reformed church without a schism was the objective,
but reformation was understood in the spirit of Luther. This en
deavor succeeded admirably, for, adjusting to the unique political cir
cumstances, Luther's followers in northern Hungary produced a con
fession on the basis of which the reform of the Christian faith could
move forward and be strengthened in the central-Danubian frontiers.
ESSAYS ON CALVIN
The Relation of God's Grace
to His Glory in John Calvin
Henry Kuizenga
The bifurcation of his system by the twin decrees of election and

reprobation must, Calvin realized, close somewhere in the oneness
of God. The system so tidily branched and nicely balanced must be
rooted and established in some trunk-principle of the divine economy.
This principle in Calvin is the glory of God. Both of the decrees
express and serve God's sovereign glory. The end and purpose of all
existence is the realization of the glory of God. This idea is consistent
with the theocentricity of Calvin's thought. All things have their ex
istence from God and are real in that they testify of his excellence.
Likewise, all men come to themselves and are most truly men as they
exemplify God's sovereignty.
As sovereign over his creation, God is "jealous" of his glory; that
is, he is concerned that creation shall not fail to realize itself in the
fulfillment of that glory. To that end he governs creation by his provi
dence. Since man is the crown of creation, the highest concern of
God in providence is that his glory shall come to expression in the
destinies of men. By his eternal decrees God not only realizes his
glory in the lives of men and in all creation but also, in that very
realization, lifts all of creation to the pinnacle of self-realization.
The study of how God realizes his glory by the decrees will reveal
the relation of grace to glory and something of the nature of grace
since it will reveal the nature of God, the giver of grace. What, then,
is the glory of God in the decree of election?
God's glory in election is the demonstration of his grace in provi
dence. In his absolute freeness God chooses his people and carefully
brings them to his own blessedness. In this God takes delight. Cal
vin says, ". . . there is nothing that is more peculiarly his own [i.e.,
God's], or in which he desires more to be glorified, than goodness."1
With goodness, Calvin in this connection means specifically gracious-
ness or mercy; the goodness of redeeming lost men is God's glory.
In a commentary on Romans 9:22, Calvin says that Paul in his use of

the term "glory" equates glory with mercy. "The word glory, which
is here twice mentioned, I consider to have been used for God's mercy,
a metonymy of effect for the cause; for his chief praise or glory is in
acts of kindness."2
This interpretation of God's glory in election is consistent with
Calvin's entire explication of God's grace, especially as he explains
God's graciousness in the Incarnation. The principle of agape in
volves God's giving himself in Christ for the benefit of his elect.
God's condescension in Christ, with all the human ignominy it brought
him, together with God's further condescension in the Holy Spirit to
redeem men, is the revelation and realization of God's glory. Once
God in his love has, by his gracious operation in men's lives, led men
to their glorification, men become "illustrations of the glory of God."3
God's glory lies in his self-giving because by giving himself he en
genders self-giving in men. For once men have been won to God's own
love, the excellencies of God are fanned out in their lives.
God in his absolute freeness to realize the purposes of his eternal
will decrees that some shall come to salvation and others to destruc
tion. What is the glory of God in reprobation? Or, how does reproba
tion serve God's glory?
It is immediately obvious, salvation and damnation being two dif
ferent destinies, that God's glory must be differently derived from
them. To be sure, the two decrees share a common feature with re
spect to God's activity in relation to men: They both manifest God's
sovereign freeness. Calvin emphasizes that God is free to deal as he
chooses with men. The simple fact is, Calvin says, that in the exer
cise of this absolute freeness, God chooses (as both the Scriptures and
human experience seem to Calvin to testify) to destine the majority
of men for destruction. So both the decrees show God's glory because
they both show that God is free. But Calvin's interpretation of God's
disposition of his freeness in election clearly teaches, too, that God's
glory does not consist of a mere neutrality of freeness, but that God,
being God, in his freeness purposes the realization in men of his
goodness. His highest glory in his relations with men lies in his lib
eration of men from sin for the accomplishment of his own goodness.
By the strength of his goodness God is free.
If then, as Calvin himself teaches, God's glory lies not primarily
in his arbitrary freeness but in a freeness to realize the good purposes
of his love, then how does God glory in reprobation; that is, in the
eternal condemnation of the majority of mankind to unfreeness? To this
THE RELATION OF GOD'S GRACE TO HIS GLORY IN JOHN CALVIN 97
question Calvin first answers with a pious counsel of silence. ". . . for
the everlasting scheme of the divine purpose is beyond our reach."4
". . . but the cause of this depends on the secret will of God."5 "Yet
the cause of eternal reprobation is so hidden from us that nothing re
mains for us but to wonder at the incomprehensible purpose of God."8
But it is already too late for Calvin to be that silent on the nature
of the glory which God derives from reprobation. Calvin teaches that
God has revealed his righteousness in Jesus Christ. In his elaborate
doctrine of God's gracious dealings with his people, Calvin unequivo
cally teaches that God's greatest pleasure lies in showing his mercy
and in accomplishing salvation. The whole history of God's dealings
with men is the history of his revelation of himself as the king of love.
No wonder, then, if Calvin himself feels it necessary to explain God's
decree of reprobation by something other than the appeal to the mys
tery of God. To refuse to say anything else than that reprobation lies
hidden in the mystery of God's "good pleasure" is to invite the con
clusion that God's glory, after all, is his arbitrariness more than it is
his goodness. For if God's good pleasure can lie in the destruction of
men, then what are men to think of God's goodness on the one hand
or of his freeness on the other? These two, which God unites by his
condescension in grace, would once more fall apart. But Calvin is
firm in his teaching that God's might and his goodness are indissol
uble. "Nothing can be more preposterous than to imagine that there
is in God a power so supreme and absolute ... as to deprive him of
his righteousness."7
How, then, does Calvin reconcile reprobation with God's freeness
to realize his righteousness? After his injunction upon others to be
silent on the subject of God's motives for the decree of reprobation,
Calvin goes on to say that God's glory in reprobation lies in the vin
dication of his justice and holiness. It pleases God to show his glory
in the salvation of some and in the damnation of many more. In this
way God realizes both sides of his righteousness: his mercy in the sal
vation of the elect; his justice in the damnation of the reprobate. So
Calvin can say of Matthew 26:24 on the subject of Judas, "God . . .
appointing the reprobate to the day of destruction, illustrates also in
this way his own glory."8 In a commentary on II Thessalonians 1:8,
Calvin says, ". . . it is necessary that God should inflict vengeance . . .
for the sake of his own glory."9 God cannot show his mercy to all men
because his righteousness demands vindication in punishment as well
as in salvation. "Justice requires that he [God] should likewise show
himself to be a just judge in the infliction of punishment."10 "His un
blamable justice shines forth no less in the perdition of the reprobate

than in the salvation of the elect.” Speaking elsewhere in the Insti
tutes of the decree of reprobation, Calvin says, “Yet it is certain that
he [God] determined thus, only because he foresaw it would tend to
the just illustration of the glory of his name.”
So Calvin's answer to the question, “What is God's glory in repro
bation?”, is more than an awed silence, more even than to say that it
lies simply in the freeness it shows God to have in choosing as he wills.
Calvin presses on to say that God's glory in reprobation lies in the
satisfaction of his justice.
From the protest of men that it is unfair of God from eternity to
decree the destruction of the reprobate, Calvin appeals to man's own
sense of moral responsibility to justify the decree. In the passages in
which he makes this appeal, he sometimes speaks as though the fate
of the reprobate were not determined from eternity, but as though
it depended upon man's own free decision. “No man, therefore, is con
demned on account of having despised the Gospel, except he who,
disdaining the lovely message of salvation, has chosen of his own ac
cord to draw down destruction on himself.” And in a passage from
Calvin's commentaries on Isaiah we find, “. . . the cause of all the
evils which we endure is our rebellion against God. When we repent,
he is reconciled to us, and the rods with which he chastised us are no
longer employed.” Calvin's explanation for what appears on the
surface at least to be a self-contradiction of what he elsewhere main
tains concerning man's relation to God's decrees would be, in his own
words: “Neither was Judas excusable because that which befell him
was foretold, seeing that he fell away, not being compelled by the
prophecy, but only by the malice of his own heart.”
In this connection Calvin sometimes speaks the language of con
gruism and prescience as distingushed from his own doctrine of strict
predestination by absolute decree. In a passage on the book of Nahum
we find: “. . . God is hard and severe toward refractory men . . . and
he is merciful and kind to the teachable and the obedient—not that
God changes his nature . . . but because he treats men according to
their disposition.”
Calvin is not unaware of the logical dilemma in which he thus in
volves himself. In fact, he fearlessly mixes the appeal to moral re
sponsibility with his insistence upon the decrees.
The reprobate wish to be thought excusable in sinning, because they
cannot avoid a necessity of sinning; especially since this necessity is
laid upon them by the ordination of God. But we deny this to be a
THE RELATION OF God's GRACE TO HIS GLORY IN John CALVIN 99
just excuse; because the ordination of God, by which they complain

that they are destined to destruction, is guided by equity, unknown
indeed to us, but indubitably certain. Whence we conclude, that
they sustain no misery that is not inflicted upon them by the most
righteous judgment of God. In the next place, we maintain that they
act preposterously, who, in seeking for the origin of their condemna
tion, direct their views to the secret recesses of the Divine counsel,
and overlook the corruption of nature, which is its real source.”
We may say then that according to Calvin man's reprobation has its
source in his own corruption, but its cause in God's decree and ordina
tion. This is all the more confusing when Calvin in the same para
graph avers that the source of man's corruption is God's decree by
which he “was created to that misery to which he is subject.”
In another passage, one from his commentaries on the Psalms, Cal
vin even more sharply points out the logical dilemma into which his
own position leads him.
If it is objected, that God in vain and without ground utters this
complaint (that man does not repent), since it was in His power to
bend the stiff necks of the people, and that, when He was not pleased
to do this, He had no reason to compare Himself to a man deeply
grieved; I answer, that He very properly makes use of this style of
speaking on our account, that we may seek for the procuring cause
of our misery nowhere but in ourselves. We must here beware of
mingling together things which are totally different—as widely differ.
ent from each other as heaven is distant from the earth. God, in com
ing down to us by His Word, and addressing His invitations to all
men without exception, disappoints nobody. All who sincerely come
to Him are received, and find from actual experience that they were
not called in vain. At the same time, we are to trace to the fountain
of the secret electing purpose of God this difference, that the word
enters into the heart of some, while others only hear the sound of it.
And yet there is no inconsistency in His complaining, as it were with
tears, of our folly when we do not obey Him. In the invitations which
He addresses to us by the external word, He shows Himself to be a
father; and why may he not also be understood as still representing
Himself under the image of a father in using this form of complaint?
In Ezekiel xviii.32, He declares with the strictest regard to truth, ‘I
have no pleasure in the death of him that dieth,' provided in the in
terpretation of the passage we candidly and dispassionately take into
view the whole scope of it. God has no pleasure in the death of a
sinner: How? Because He would have all men turned to Himself.
But it is abundantly evident, that men by their own free-will cannot
turn to God, until He first change their stony hearts into flesh: yea,
this renovation, as Augustine judiciously observes, is a work sur
passing that of the creation itself. Now what hinders God from bend
ing and framing the hearts of all men equally in submission to Him?
lOO REFORMATION STUDIES
Here modesty and sobriety must be observed, that instead of presum

ing to intrude into His incomprehensible decrees, we may rest con
tented with the revelation which He has made of His will in His
word. There is the justest ground for saying that He wills the salva
tion of those to whom that language is addressed, (Isaiah xxi.12)
'Come unto me, and be ye converted.' In the second part of the verse
before us, we have defined what it is to hear God. To assent to what
He speaks would not be enough: for hypocrites will grant at once
that whatever proceeds from His mouth is true, and will affect to
listen just as if an ass should bend its ears. But the clause is intended
to teach us that we can only be said to hear God, when we submit
ourselves to His authority.18
Confusing as this language is, yet it is clear that with it Calvin
appeals to man's moral responsibility in order to justify God's seek
ing his glory in the punishment of the reprobate. But if this appeal
to the human sense of justice is valid, then the objections raised by
this sense of justice to Calvin's idea of God's economy with men are
also valid. There are two such objections: (1) If God's justice required
the eternal punishment of the reprobate to establish his glory, then
the elect should suffer the same penalty for their sins in order to make
that vindication complete. (2) Anselm used to teach that the reason
the Saviour had to be both God and man was in order that the pen
alty for man's sin against God's infinite majesty might be infinitely
paid. And Calvin himself says, commenting on Colossians 1:14,
". . . for by the sacrifice of his death all the sins of the world have
been expiated."19 If the sins of the world were all expiated by Christ's
death, and according to Anselm, the forgiveness won by Christ is in
finite because Christ is infinite, then does not Calvin by his argument
in defense of reprobation place God in the position of requiring that
the penalty for the sins of the reprobate be paid twice, once by Christ
upon the cross and again through all eternity by the wretched sinner
himself?
But whether God's glory in reprobation can be justified before the
bar of human justice and moral responsibility or not, the appeal to
human justice is really, with reference to Calvin's own teaching, not
a valid appeal to begin with. For the decrees of God, by Calvin's own
vehement insistence, cannot be brought into judgment by reference
to mere human understanding. The only basis in human judgment
for understanding and appraisal of God's works is the basis God pro
vides by his Spirit in transforming human judgment so that it can
judge on the basis of divine wisdom. We should then be always care
ful to introduce divine wisdom as the standard for our judgments.
But on the basis of divine wisdom as revealed in the New Testament

by Jesus and as explicated by Calvin himself in his doctrine of elec
tion, the glory which God derives from reprobation, whether justified
or not justified in the appeal of justice as man understands it by refer
ence to his own sense of moral responsibility, is altogether of an in
ferior quality to the glory of election as understood by reference to
God's own revelation of himself in the Incarnation.
For the glory in election is based on the agapS principle. Jesus pro
nounces as a universal principle and therefore as expressive of God's
own love for men, these words: "For whosoever will save his life shall
lose it: and whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall find it."20 So
we may interpret, ". . . joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that
repenteth . . ."21 Calvin himself so understood the way of God's love
in contrast to man's way (paraphrasing what Isaiah says for God in
55:8): "I am not a mortal man that I should show myself harsh and
irreconcilable to you. My thoughts are very different from yours. If
you are implacable, and can with difficulty be brought back to a state
of friendship with those from whom you have received injury, I am
not like you that I should treat you so cruelly."22
But the glory of reprobation, Calvin says, consists in God's exact
ing eternal satisfaction for the transgressions of men whom he by
eternal decree has foreordained to destruction. For the understand
ing and approval of this decree and this glory, Calvin refers us, as
noted earlier, to our own sense of justice, and beyond that he enjoins
silence and the praise of God's mysterious ways. "Whenever you hear
the glory of God mentioned, think of his justice. For what deserves
praise must be just."23 But the praiseworthiness of God's glory is es
tablished in men's lives by Jesus' interpretations of God's justice and
by God's entire revelation of his righteousness. Calvin in the above
quotation is appealing to the praiseworthiness established by his ex
position of God's love in election to inspire our praise of God's pun
ishment in reprobation.
There are then two kinds of glory. The principle of gloria dei which
Calvin introduces to bind the decrees back into the oneness of God is
itself split by the decrees. Calvin is left with a God who seems to have
a dual personality, a schizophrenic God.
This is seen most clearly as a trinitarian problem. Christ as the eter
nal, pre-existent Son of God should be coauthor with the Father of the
eternal decrees of God. Calvin, though he speaks of Christ as the mir
ror of our salvation and often says that we are elected in Christ,24 yet
does not make Christ simply the author of the decree of election. Paul
Jacobs in "Pradestination und Verantwortlichkeit" wishes to anchor

Calvin's doctrine of election in the Trinity in order to show that elec
tion is not a mechanistic determinism but the loving eternal purpose
of God to bring his people to salvation. He tries to put Christ as close
as possible to the decree in Calvin in order to answer the accusations
of Kampschulte and C. Ritschl that in election God decrees an end
result for the accomplishment of which Christ is the mere medium.
Christ, says Ritschl, e.g., is actually shut out of the actual act of making
the decree.25 It is interesting to notice that, however closely Jacobs
can find Calvin associating Christ with the actual decree, yet he never
says that in Calvin Christ is anywhere the author of it. Christ is the
mediator from eternity; the Saviour of all the Old Testament saints;
Christ is the eternal Word of God: Christ is the gauge of our election;
Christ is the election itself; Christ, as the way of salvation, is the re
sult of the eternal decree of election; Christ is the example of our elec
tion.28 All these—but Christ for Calvin is not himself the author of
the decree.
May it not be that Calvin kept Christ free from actual authorship
of the decree of election in order to keep him free from authorship
of reprobation? But once shut out of actual authorship of the decree,
it is impossible to get Christ convincingly back into the plan of sal
vation except as the functionary who carries out a decree made by
the Father. Jacobs is disappointed that the religious interpreters of
Calvin's theology (Schneckenburger, Gasz, Dorner, Ahnlich, Kostlin,
R. F. K. Miiller) do not more radically correct the mistakes of the
speculative school of Calvin researchers (Alex. Schweitzer, Baur,
Heppe, Frank, O. Ritschl). But the speculative interpretations take
their rise on the wedge Calvin himself drove between Christ and the
decree. Then the religious interpreters in their effort to interpret Cal
vin religiously could only say that for Calvin there is no salvation
outside of faith in Christ. Miiller could say that, at last, despite his
obvious determinism, Calvin in the doctrine of election gave his heart
the rule over his head. Their work does not satisfy Jacobs. "The reli
gious interpreters of Calvin," he says, "though they were obviously
aware of the difficulty, yet did not clear it away. Instead of beginning
with Christ in their thinking about predestination, they saw the
Christocentric elements of that doctrine only as religious adjuncts de
cisive in its development."27 Jacobs rightly diagnoses the problem in
Calvin to be a trinitarian one. But Jacobs himself seems not to see
that, unless Christ is author of the decree of election, he cannot be
used to absolve Calvin's system from its mechanistic determinism.
Jacobs says of reprobation, "The concept of mechanistic causality
THE RELATION OF GOD'S GRACE TO HIS GLORY IN JOHN CALVIN lOJ
remains in use in the negative doctrine of the bondage of the human

will to sin because it cannot be dislodged by the witness of the foun
dation and body of Christ."28 But neither is the ground of the mech
anistic causality in Calvin's doctrine of election removed until Christ
is author of the decree. Jacobs is right in making the problem a trini-
tarian one. Does he fail to see that the trinitarian problem concerns
not only election but also reprobation? The decrees involve Christ as
author, or Christ is not the Son coeternal with the Father. But if Christ
is to be the author of election, then so he must be of reprobation. Cal
vin shied at this. He chose rather to make God the author of both
decrees and Christ the executor of that of election. Thus Christ is not
the revelation of the whole mind of God, but only the obedient ad
ministrator of one side of that mind. The problem of mechanistic
causality remains. Moreover, the greater problem of the duality of
God's personality presents itself.
Karl Barth states the problem thus: "The old Reformers really were
not right when they were ready to see in the reconciliation and revela
tion which happened in Jesus Christ the medium but not the founda
tion of election, and when they were willing, rather, to misplace the
eternal election in a decree of God which happened before the ac
tuality of the Cross and the Resurrection."29 He goes on to say that
the doctrine of the decrees may open the door to the interpretation of
predestination as a philosophy of determinism or of empiricism. Shut
Christ out, in other words, and then, if Christ be the Son of God, you
are well on the way to shutting God out of the decrees too.
The right view, Barth says, is to see in Christ the whole revelation
of God and count him author of election and reprobation both. Why,
he says, do the theologians not include rejection (Verwerfung) in their
Christology? "Does Jesus Christ, then, come to men only as the Bearer
of God's 'yes'? Does He come so, and not at the same time as the Bearer
of God's 'no'?"30 Then Barth asks whether, for these theologians who
so divide reprobation and election in the theology of the decrees, re
jection is any more the expression of God's justice than election. Else
where he points out that Christ is the whole revelation of God. Ex
actly in Christ is all God's majesty, holiness, and love most brilliantly
revealed and understood.
But the oneness of God within Himself, the oneness of the Father
with the Son, cannot be shattered; His sovereignty cannot be sub
verted, and neither by the fact that the Son, nay that the true God is
now become even more truly man . . . How should God's sovereignty
thereby not become even greater not in itself, that is, but greater for
us and to us as a revealed and reconciling sovereignty.81
'
The glory and majesty, the righteousness and justice of God are of
a piece and are all revealed in Christ. So Christ is not separated from
God nor the Father from the Son by the decrees, and the mind of
God is not split into compartments one of which operates on the level
of vengeful justice and the other on the level of selfless love. Justice
and mercy together serve the same supreme value of God's righteous
love. When God comes in Christ, he comes in mercy and in judgment.
But mercy and judgment are the expression at all times of the same
righteous love at work.
Calvin's theology, then, and in spite of his introduction of the prin
ciple of God's glory, remains divided along the line separating the de
crees. This is true unless we should follow the interpretation of God's
grace sometimes suggested by Calvin that it is a means by which God
seeks and realizes his selfish aggrandizement for its own sake. In this
sense God would be gracious in order to serve his own glory. In his
first edition of the Institutes Calvin says that God pours out his grace
upon new converts in order that in them his glory may be seen.82
Elsewhere he says, "the glory of God is the highest end, to which our
sanctification is subordinate."83 The interpretation of the glory of
God as a principle apart from and superior to God's grace makes
that glory a principle under which both decrees can be understood
as serving God's glory in a similar fashion. This is the interpretation
of Arthur Savary:
The decree of God, by which the elect are predestined to eternal
glory, has the glory of God as its purpose. The God of Calvin, in His
relation to predestination, is a God who is alike indifferent to the
damnation of the reprobate and the salvation of the elect; He has no
concern except for His glory. It is for His glory that He decrees the
eternal misery of some and the endless blessedness of others.3*
With this interpretation of God's glory and of his grace, the prin
ciple of glory would unite the decrees and save the unity of God for
Calvin's system. Then God would receive a positive vindication of
his supremacy from salvation and a negative from reprobation. Then
Calvin would be subordinating grace to glory in order to subordi
nate both salvation and reprobation under the heading of sovereignty
and make God one again. But then the quality of both God's grace
and his glory would be adversely affected by the decree of reproba
tion; adversely, that is, in the light of the biblical idea of God's gra-
ciousness to his people, an idea which is everywhere present in Calvin's
own explication of the grace of God toward his elect. In short, then,
Calvin's God would not be the God of the Scriptures.
Even with this interpretation of God's glory, however, Calvin would
be involving himself in a glaring contradiction. For he has honestly

admitted, when explaining the biblical idea of God's grace to his
elect, that God realizes his greatest glory in showing the mercy of his
salvation.35
But Calvin teaches that God operates on two levels to accomplish
his glory. On the first level he operates to redeem men and glories in
their redemption. On the second level he operates to condemn men and
glories in the righteous vengeance with which he punishes them. This
position is strikingly illustrated in this passage from the Institutes:
Therefore, as God regenerates for ever the elect alone with incor
ruptible seed, so that the seed of life planted in their hearts never
perishes, so he firmly seals within them the grace of his adoption, that
it may be confirmed and ratified to their minds. But this by no means
prevents that inferior operation of the Spirit from exerting itself
even in the reprobate.36
Why should God who is absolutely free to realize the glory he desires
content himself with the inferior glory of vindicating his justice with
the eternal punishment of the reprobate? Does it not imply God's
defeat first to say that he best serves his glory in the redemption of
some men, and then to say that he ekes out some satisfaction also from
the damnation of other men?
This is the more forcibly argued when we consider how Calvin
restricts the number of the elect to a small fragment of mankind.
For thus Calvin seems to teach that the glory accruing to God from
humankind must come, for the most part, from their reprobation.
Calvin could argue that God receives more glory from the salvation
of one elect than from the reprobation of a hundred sinners. And
for that very reason it is vain to propose that God seek his glory in
reprobation. Why should Calvin, of all people, teach that God must
do with less than the greatest glory?
The introduction of the interpretation of God's glory as his self-
seeking does not, in other words, serve the purpose of unifying Cal
vin's theology. It does not because Calvin's main teaching on the
nature of God and his grace makes it impossible. If this interpretation
of God and his glory is to serve the purpose for which it was suggested,
Calvin must do one of two things: (1) repudiate his main. teaching on
the nature of God and his grace, or (2) repudiate his teaching on the
decree of reprobation. They cannot stand together. But once give up
the decree of reprobation, and the need for explaining God's glory
as self-seeking no longer exists, and the New Testament conception of
grace as Calvin himself taught it can again come into its own. Christ
is once more the true and full revelation of the only true God.
Calvin's Theological Method
and the Ambiguity in His Theology
John H. Leith
In 1909 William Adams Brown, one of the most competent of re

cent American theologians, undertook to speak on Calvin's influence
upon theology and was embarrassed for lack of anything original to
say. He found it impossible to approach Calvin's theology in the spirit
of an explorer, for the latter's teachings were already commonplace
knowledge. Further study of the Reformer's theology, he felt, offered
no chance of new discovery.1
It is now apparent that Calvin research has not reached any simple
agreement as to the content or nature of his theology. Actually the
disagreements are both numerous and important. There are conflicts
between the strict Barthians and the students of Brunner,2 between
the traditional Calvinists and the Crisis Theologians,3 between the
French and the Germans,4 between the historian of dogma, Reinhold
Seeberg, and the Calvin scholar, Peter Barth.5 In contrast to the Cal
vin scholars who have taken the Reformer seriously as a teacher of
this generation, the liberals have labeled him a fundamentalist.6
The very diversity in interpretation on the part of students of Cal
vin has become itself a problem of Calvin study. In 1922 Herman
Bauke asked the question: What is the peculiar character of the the
ology which makes all of these contradictory opinions possible?7 He
was convinced that the experience of the preceding century had proved
the inadequacy of every attempt to solve these problems by the study
of any one doctrine or even of the content of the whole theology. The
solution of the problem, he felt, lay in the study of the Formgestaltung
and not of the content of the theology. Three characteristics of the
Formgestaltung provide an explanation of the contradictory conclu
sions of Calvin research and offer a key for a true interpretation of
his theology.
The first is a formal, dialectical rationalism. This does not mean
that Calvin's theology is rationalistic in the Stoic or eighteenth-cen
calvin's theological method 107
tury sense. It is not a rationalism of material but of form in which
the dogmatic materials appear, by which they are bound together,
and in which they are expressed and systematized. This fact accounts
for the difference between the theologies of Calvin and Luther, which,
in regard to content, are very much the same. It also accounts for the
fact that the German who thinks in terms of content rather than
form has diff1culty understanding Calvin's theology.
The second characteristic of the form of Calvin's theology, accord
ing to Bauke, is the complexio oppositorum. Calvin's theological
method is not the deduction of a system from one or two central
doctrines. He does not seek to find some Diagonale or Stammlehre or
central doctrine or material principle from which individual dogmatic
teachings can be deduced and developed. On the contrary, he seeks
to bind existing individual dogmatic teachings which are even in
logical and metaphysical contradiction into a systematic coherence.
This characteristic explains the existence of many contradictory in
terpretations, for interpreters have concentrated on one doctrine and
neglected others which are equally important. Martin Schulze's studies
are a good example of this fallacy.8
The third characteristic is biblicism, by which Bauke meant a law
which governed the pattern of Calvin's thought. The Reformer sought
not merely to take the materials of his theology out of the Bible but
also to make his theology a complete and consistent representation of
the Bible.
Bauke's study was a genuine step forward, for it made plain that
every attempt to interpret the Institutes must consider the form as
well as the content. He dealt a devastating blow to the notion that
Calvin was a speculative systematizer who deduced a system of theology
from one or two principles. Most of the recent Calvin scholars are in
agreement with Bauke's conclusion in this regard; however, his study
did not put an end to contradictory interpretations.
While Bauke's study has much to contribute to the understanding
of Calvin's thought, at least three objections must be raised to his con
clusions. In the first place, his emphasis on the paradoxical character
of Calvin's theology obscures its inner unity. It gives the impression
that his theology is merely a collection of individual teachings formally
and dialectically thrown together. In the second place, the question
must be raised whether it is possible to separate fully form and con
tent. For example, is the content of the definitions of predestination
and reprobation completely free from their rationalistic form? Finally,
the question must be asked as to whether the formal character of
Calvin's thought is consistently the same. If the formal character varies,

then Bauke's thesis is inadequate.
Unquestionably, the diversity in the interpretation of Calvin has
multiple sources and explanations. Surely one source of the diversity
is the theological perspective of the commentator. Barthians read
Calvin in the light of Barth and fundamentalists in the light of scho
lastic Calvinism. This is especially apparent when Calvin is made to
answer contemporary theological questions. These radically partisan
studies produce divergent interpretations and leave the actual historic
development of Calvinism unintelligible.
Another source of diverse interpretations is Calvin's deliberate use
of paradox. In a study published in 1868, Kostlin maintained that
Calvin's theology can be regarded as a system only if the word is duly
qualified. While the Institutes reveal a tendency toward systematiza-
tion, there is an increasing hesitancy in the various editions to draw
the conclusions which the systematic approach demands.9 The failure
of Calvin study to discover any central dogma from which the system
is deduced supports this judgment, fimile Doumergue described Cal
vin's procedure as the "m£thode des contrarietes."10 Calvin was ready
to sacrifice logical consistency in order to do justice to the complexity
of Christian revelation and experience.
Calvin's use of paradox has been the occasion of contradictory inter
pretations, as the interpreter has laid hold of one doctrine to the neg
lect of another. A notable instance is the attempt to interpret Calvin
in an otherworldly fashion to the neglect of his very significant em
phasis on the importance of history and enjoyment of this created
world.
A further explanation of diversity in the interpretation of Calvin's
theology is found in the failure of Calvin to integrate the various
strands of thought which went into his theological development. An
example can be found in the confusion between the Hebraic and
Platonic interpretations of the relationship of the soul and the body
which is apparent in Calvin's writings.11
There is, however, still another source of diversity of interpretation
of Calvin's theology. It lies behind the conflict between those scholars
who conclude that Calvin's theology is dominated by its emphasis on
the personal and living claim of God on every man, and other scholars,
equally competent, who find that Calvin substitutes a code book for
the living claim of God and a legal institution for the body of Christ.
It is the source of the radical disagreement between those who discover
that Calvin's theology is Christocentric and those who find it to be a
CALVIN'S THEOLOGICAL METHOD log
denial of the spirit of Jesus Christ. This problem in Calvin interpreta

tion roots in ambiguities in Calvin's theological methodology.
An illustration of this type of problem can be found in Calvin's dis
cussion of the glory of God, which is a fundamental concept in his
whole theology. God's glory, Calvin writes, is made known in the struc
ture of the world.
. . . God hath not darkly shadowed his glory in the creation of the
world, but he hath everywhere engraven such manifest marks, that
even blind men may know them by groping.12
God's glory consists partly in his wisdom and his power.13 It also con
sists in his authority14 and his righteousness.15 It is manifested in the
many proofs of his fatherly love which one finds in the world.16
The glory of God, however, principally shines forth in Christ and in
the gospel which he proclaimed. In him God's perfect glory and
majesty are revealed.17
. . . The glory of God principally shines in this,—that he is recon
cilable and that he forgives our sins. God indeed manifests his glory
both by his power and his wisdom, and by all the judgments which
he daily executes; his glory, at the same time, shines forth chiefly in
this,—that he is propitious to sinners, and suffers himself to be paci
fied; yea, that he not only allows miserable sinners to be reconciled
to him, but that he also of his own will invites and anticipates
them.18
The glory of God is revealed in the cross of Christ,
for in the cross of Christ, as in a magnificent theatre, the inesti
mable goodness of God is displayed before the whole world. In all
the creatures, indeed, both high and low, the glory of God shines,
but nowhere has it shone more brightly than in the cross, in which
there has been an astonishing change of things, the condemnation of
all men has been manifested, sin has been blotted out, salvation has
been restored to men; and, in short, the whole world has been re
newed, and everything restored to good order.19
Calvin, however, did not stop with the assertion that God's glory is
principally revealed in his forgiving love. He introduces the analogy
of an earthly king's glory as a means of impressing upon his readers
and hearers the significance of the glory of God.20 If a prince is in
jured, death is not considered too much to exact in revenge. If we
avenge the injuries done to men, how much more should we avenge
any outrage against the majesty of him who made heaven and earth.
Consequently, when the honor of God is at stake, we must suppress
1 lO REFORMATION STUDIES
all natural affection and prefer the glory of God to all human con
siderations. Thus Calvin writes:
Why is such implacable severity demanded unless to show us that . . .
as often as his glory is involved our mutual humanity is erased almost
from memory?21
For in that you show that you are truly zealots in the service of God
if you kill your own brothers and stop at nothing, scorning the order
of nature, in order to show that God rules above all and that his de
cree is sovereign.22
These may be overstatements of the fact that God is the Creator

and that man in himself is not significant, but they are certainly dan
gerous overstatements. However high Calvin's motives may have been
in such statements, they were the justification of deeds which have the
appearance of brutality and inhumanity. They explain how Calvin
could desire the death penalty for Servetus without any apparent emo
tional disturbance,23 though he was fully capable of feeling the poign
ancy of death.24
Calvin himself was unaware of any inconsistency between the fore
going statements and his assertion that the glory of God was principally
revealed in his redemptive love. This very fact makes these aberrations
all the more dangerous for those who seek to learn from Calvin today.
While it is difficult to isolate the source of his inconsistency, it seems
to be at least in part due to Calvin's theological method. While he
avows the greatest loyalty to Scripture, he actually goes beyond Scrip
ture as a result of an almost irresistible tendency to extrapolate ra
tionally the scriptural data. It was Calvin's intention to bring men
into the living presence of the King of Glory; and his theology, as
far as we can judge, was the context in which men did come into that
presence. However, it must also be said that he sometimes substituted
an abstract rationalization of an earthly king's glory for that living
presence.
The same problem which is here illustrated in Calvin's discussion of
the glory of God is also found in Calvin's doctrine of predestination.
Calvin's insistence that election is in Christ,25 that Christ is the
"gaige,"26 the register,27 and the source28 of election is very difficult to
harmonize with the more formal definitions of predestination such as:
Predestination we call the eternal decree of God, by which he has
determined in himself, what he would have to become of every indi
vidual of mankind. For they are not all created with a similar des
tiny; but eternal life is foreordained for some, and eternal damnation
"N
.
calvin's theological method hi
for others. Every man, therefore, being created for one or the other
of these ends, we say, he is predestinated either to life or to death.29
How can a Christological understanding of predestination fit with

Calvin's assertion on one occasion "that God would suffer only those
infants to be destroyed whom he had already damned and destined to
eternal death?"80
Another illustration of the same problem can be found in Calvin's
doctrine of the law. It is not without reason that some Calvin scholars
find that Calvin's doctrine of the law is very personal and existential
while others accuse Calvin of being a legalist and of establishing a
theocracy in Geneva.31 There is a basis for each interpretation.
The problem which these contradictions raise cannot be solved by
adding up the available data and then concluding that the side which
has the greater weight of evidence represents Calvin's true opinion.
While this may be true in certain cases, such a procedure would be
based upon the assumption that these inconsistencies are occasional
aberrations which do not occupy a serious place in Calvin's thought.
This is basically what Wilhelm Niesel does in his study, The Theology
of Calvin.32 In developing the thesis that Calvin's theology in form
and content is Christocentric, he ignores the considerable evidence
which points in the opposite direction. The frequency with which
these inconsistencies occur and the thorough way in which they pene
trate Calvin's thought indicate that another approach must be taken.
The evidence seems to point to a breakdown in Calvin's theological
methodology as at least a very important factor in this problem of his
theology. Calvin's theological method was basically commentary on
Scripture and creed, but free from the scholastic pattern of proposi
tions in logically deductive order and from the later desire of a Schleier-
macher to systematize, bringing each theological proposition into a defi
nite relation with all others. It was Calvin's intention that his theology
should reflect his conviction that God personally confronts men in the
Bible, where his living image is revealed.88
It [the Bible] is the mirror in which we contemplate the face of

God in order to be transfigured in his glory. It is the royal sceptre
with which he governs us as his people, and the staff which he gives
us to teach us that he wishes to be our Shepherd. It is the instrument
of his alliance which he has made with us ... in order to be joined
with us in a perpetual bond. It is the witness of his good will through
which we have repose in our consciences, knowing where our salva
tion lies. It is the only pasture of our souls, to nourish them into
eternal life.34
<
It was also Calvin's intention that his theology should reflect his con
viction that the one thing which we must search for in all the Bible is
Jesus Christ.35 Yet it cannot be said that Calvin's theology consistently
maintains the living presence of God without objectifying it or the
Lordship of Jesus Christ without distorting it.
Certainly one reason why Calvin did not consistently fulfill his the
ological intention, thus giving rise to diversities of interpretation, is
that his theological intention was continually threatened by certain
developments of his basic theological methodology. These develop
ments, while never dominating Calvin's theology, became increasingly
influential in later Calvinism, making it all the more necessary that
they should be recognized in Calvin himself.
One factor which entered into the development of Calvin's theological
methodology was a formal biblicism. Calvin set out to make his theol
ogy and polity a consistent and complete representation of the biblical
materials. This procedure was predicated upon three ideas about the
Bible: (1) "Everything that relates to the guidance of our life is con
tained in [the Scriptures] abundantly";36 (2) "There is nothing re
vealed in the Scriptures, that is not profitable to be known";37 (3) the
essence of Scripture is very clear so that every Christian can profit
therein.38 Calvin did not have the benefit of modern historical criti
cism, and he did not always make use of his own avowed principles of
interpretation. In theory he distinguished between the Old and New
Testaments and asserted that God's full disclosure of himself has taken
place in Jesus Christ. In actual practice, however, these distinctions
were frequently forgotten in his expositions of the Scripture. Moreover,
Calvin felt a compulsion to incorporate the whole Bible in an un
differentiated sense into his theology, though the fact that he uses por
tions of the Bible much more frequently than others indicates that this
inclination did not dominate his theology.39
The second factor which entered into this scholastic methodology
was implicit confidence in the competence of reason to theologize on
the basis of the biblical materials. In the second book of the Institutes
Calvin left no doubt about the sinful corruption of reason, and every
where he rejected reason as an avowed source of theology. However,
reason did become a source of his theology through speculation about
and organization of the biblical materials. Calvin betrays little doubt
as to the full competence of reason in the systematization and rational
elaboration of the biblical materials. A factor which may have con
tributed to this confidence in reason was his doctrine of providence.
Whether this doctrine led to the practical reversal of his opinion
y >
CALVIN S THEOLOGICAL METHOD 11J
about the sinful corruption of reason is not of too great significance, for
the results are the same in any case.
On the basis of the presupposition that the Bible supplies infallible
material for theology and that reason is competent to manipulate and
theologize about those materials, Calvin was convinced that he pos
sessed the truth. When he was involved with Trolliet about the doc
trine of predestination, he told the Council at Geneva: "So far
as I am concerned, my masters, I am quite certain in my conscience
that that which I have taught and written did not arise out of my own
head, but that I have received it from God, and I must stand firmly
by it, if I am not to be a traitor to the truth."40 Calvin was convinced
that he had the right to punish heretics because he possessed the "in
fallible truth." He objected to punishment of heretics by Roman
Catholics on the ground that they did not have the truth and would
therefore punish innocent persons.41 Beza's judgment that Calvin's
theology never changed may be relevant here.42 These facts are indica
tive of a notion of truth which is rigid and absolute and of a failure
to see that the dialectical tension of opposing views may be nearer the
truth than dogmatic pronouncements. This static and impersonal no
tion of truth has not only led to acrimony among theologians who be
lieved that truth could be absolutely possessed in precise formulas and
argued about who possessed it, but it has also obscured Calvin's own
emphasis upon the personal and deeply mutual relationship of man
to God, which expresses itself in the Christian life.
Furthermore, this understanding of Christian truth tends to elimi
nate all mystery from faith and to destroy religious paradox as a means
of expressing the content of faith. While formal paradoxes may be re
tained, all mystery is taken from them; and they become a logically
satisfying and speculative unraveling of man's relationship to God.43
The biblicism and the rationalism which entered into Calvin's the
ological methodology continually threatened his theological intentions,
but they never dominated his theology as they did later Calvinism. Yet
they are present in Calvin's work. Hence to overlook them in empha
sizing the existential and Christocentric character of Calvin's theology
is just as serious as the dismissal of Calvin as a legalist or a funda
mentalist.
The inner unity of the Christian life and of Calvin's theology is not
some abstract principle but the vital fact that man has to do with the
living God every moment of his life. His theology represents a mag
nificent effort to give expression to what it means to have to do with
the living God every moment of one's life. No interpretation of the
sola gloria Dei has been more vivid and dynamic than Calvin's. For
this reason Calvin speaks to the needs of this generation. And for this
reason it is crucial that the interpreters of Calvin concentrate neither
upon the failures nor the successes of his theology but upon his theol
ogy as a whole. On the basis of Calvin's own principles, no human
achievement in theology can ever be final or complete. Every statement
of doctrine must be continually reformed by the Christian community's
apprehension of the word of God as revealed in Jesus Christ. When
Calvin is accepted as no more and no less than he is, then he becomes
a teacher to this generation.
ESSAYS ON OTHER MEN AND MOVEMENTS
Lefevre d'Etaples:
Three Phases of His Life and Work
John Woolman Brush
About the year Columbus was setting foot on the islands of the new
hemisphere and the unholy Alexander VI was taking the papal throne,
a little man from Picardy was beginning to make an impact on the
scholar's world of Paris. Specifically, this man was lecturing on Aris
totle. Before a decade and a half had passed, this Lefevre d'fitaples,
with the capable help of his students, had effected a large-scale publica
tion of the Greek thinker, in an improved Latin text, adorned with
commentary.
Just before the new century was born, this same man, Faber Stapu-
lensis if you like, had published mystical writings of Pseudo-Dionysius
and of Ramon Lull. He was also becoming enamored of the writings
of Nicholas of Cusa, church statesman, subtle and profound thinker,
his thought brilliantly lighted by mystical insight and vision, who has
been lauded as one of the truly great men of his century, the Fifteenth.
It was a long and decisive love affair that Lefevre carried on with these
and other mystical writers.
Early in the second decade of the Reformation century, Martin
Luther, monk and teacher engaged in a do-or-die combat over his soul's
salvation, was eagerly marking up the margins of two works from Paris,
one a Fivefold Psalter, the other a Commentary on Paul's Epistles.
These were fruits of the scholarship and the spiritual experience of our
same scholar. We must add that these two significant works had not
by any means exhausted Lefevre's vital and enthusiastic relationship
to the Book of Books.
Our aim is to observe briefly these three phases of the life and work
of this French scholar and man of faith, with the hope of linking them,
or at least of relating them: the Aristotelian, the mystical, and the
biblical. Writing on Lefevre in 1914, G. V. Jourdan expressed himself
to this effect: "It appears vain to expect that a satisfactory biography
will ever be written."1 As recently as 1955, the king of living students
Il8 REFORMATION STUDIES
of the subject has said at least that Lefevre's widespread achievements

"have not yet found their historian."2 The only man who ever essayed
the task was Karl Heinrich Graf, over a century ago.3 Every student in
the field, however, owes an incalculable debt to Augustin Renaudet,
especially for his master-work of 19 16.4 It is generally held that one
strong reason Lefevre has never been completely put together is that
historical scholarship has as yet failed to explain Lefevre's true place
in Aristotelian and philosophical studies. One scholar has asked if
Lefevre might not have contributed to the mind-set in which Galileo
worked.5 One may venture some credence in this as we read A. N.
Whitehead's opinion to the effect that Aristotle faded out as far as
philosophical development was concerned, but lived on in power to
undergird modern science.*
Let us open up at once an enlargement of the Aristotelian phase,
which belongs first in Lefevre's interests and development. Before he
embarked on an important visit to Italy, this scholar and teacher from
Picardy had already, in 1491 or so, expounded Aristotle to his Paris
students. These were the sunrise days of the French Renaissance. French
education and thought were pathetically shackled in the rusty chains
of scholasticism. Lefevre was appalled, as Erasmus and Luther were to
be, by the futile logic-chopping which absorbed the energies of the
universities. Erasmus and Luther, of course, were to turn decisively
away from Aristotle. Lefevre d'fitaples, however, assumed the mission
of rescuing the true Aristotle from the bad texts and the tedious tradi
tion-bound commentaries.7
In Italy he made contact with the Aristotelian teaching of the Vene
tian Ermalao Barbaro, then at Rome. He also visited the Platonic
school at Florence under those priestly men of speculation, Ficino, and
Pico of Mirandola. He may have been fired up by the ambition of Pico
to reconcile Plato and Aristotle. Later on, Lefevre was to reveal him
self in his mystical interests and his mystic spirit as a child of the
Platonic tradition, or, to stand on safer ground, of the Neoplatonic.
It is clear from the beginning, then, that our three phases will inter
penetrate. There never was, we mean to say, a pure Aristotelian phase
of Lefevre's life and work.
Lefevre's exhaustive work in presenting Aristotle afresh, in wide
range, to the men of the awakening French Renaissance, was a heroic
and self-effacing achievement. Their due meed of credit must go to his
pupils and co-workers, such as Charles de Bouelles and Clichtowe, and
we doff our hat to the printing house of Estienne. Always about the
master is a swarm of busy bees. A new start in French philosophic study
lefevre d'etaples: three phases of his l1fe and work 1 19
and reflection is inaugurated. Lefevre's goal reminds us a little of
Descartes' subsequent aim to foster clear, logical thought, mathe
matically clear. Admirers of the French tradition of rational clarity
take note of Lefevre's contribution, even though its specific impact, as
we have said, is not yet sufficiently understood. Renaudet says of the
Paraphrases on Aristotle's Physics (1492) that it is a work of pedagogy
rather than of doctrine.8 Imbart de la Tour, joining it to the edition
of the Metaphysics which followed it, calls the ensemble "the first book
of French philosophy."9
Though we are separating the Frenchman's life and work into three
phases, we need to see, as far as we can, the whole man all the way
through. The early Lefevre is not simply an editor and interpreter of
Aristotle; and the later Lefevre, to the end, never lets his Aristotelian
studies collect dust. The very thesis we are advancing is that the second
phase, the mystical, colors not only his Aristotelian work, but that it
deeply affects the final or biblical chapter in his life. We cannot expect
that he learned from Barbaro a pure Aristotle, whatever that is. It
was certainly a different Stagirite from him of the "waning" Middle
Ages. Barbara's quest was the Christian one of answering "the anti-
Christian interpretation of the Averroists of Padua."10 We need at
once to see in Lefevre not only the Aristotelian interest and the love
of the mystics, but a man devoutly and earnestly Christian. In Rome
he was shocked by the mores of the religious men, and sought out some
monks from the north with whom he might celebrate a sober Christmas.
Perhaps the future reformer was born of that shock, and the biblical
phase of his interests foreshadowed.
Before observing directly the mystical phase of Lefevre's work, we
may do well to stress the breadth of the Paris scholar's interests and
deliverances. Mathematics in the academic sense, and numerology, or
what we may loosely name number-mysticism, belonged to his reper
tory, as well as astronomy and what we might call today its half-witted
stepsister, astrology. Lefevre and his students edited texts in this broad
area. Boethius on Arithmetic is an example, coming from Henri
Estienne's press in 1503. Here is another item, on musicl What an
educator he was! Patristics are within his range: Polycarp's Letter,
Ignatius (eleven letters!), Hermas, Rufinus' Latin translation of the
Recognitions, and the Homilies of Pseudo-Clement. Also he edited
Ficino's translation of Mercurius Trismegistus. A recent biographer of
Guillaume Postel (1510-1581) reveals how many of these interests and
even of attitudes of Lefevre are echoed in the younger man, who never
seems, however, to acknowledge any debt to the renowned elder. Postel
1 20 REFORMATION STUDIES
and Lefevre both owe something great, as we shall see, to Cusa, in a

certain passion to comprehend and harmonize all faiths and all knowl
edge.11
This breadth of Lefevre's thought and aspiration may mark him as
an eclectic, but the ability to live in such breadth with any degree of
integrity may possibly indicate the irenicist and the mystic of the Cusa
school. The Florentines cultivated this urge to harmonize diversities
and varieties. Between the rational meadows of Aristotle and the deep
woods of biblical and Pauline faith, I see Faber Stapulensis walking
this broad road. He was not systematic enough in theological construc
tion, and possibly not profound enough, to work out a summa of his
three phases. As we observe, however, his lifelong engagement with
Aristotle's rational thought, and his erudite and fervent love of the
Bible, we would name his mystical spirit, fuelled by his studies in the
outstanding men of the unitive way, as the middle or harmonizing
factor. We shall observe this more closely later as we relate him to
Luther and Calvin.
Though we shall turn only to Luther and Calvin for relation and
comparison, we find we can garner some views and utterances of
Lefevre that remind us somewhat of certain extreme phases of the
"Left Wing of the Reformation." We only mention this for its possible
reflection of the temperament of the mystic in him. I refer particularly
to a certain afflatus of prophecy as evident, for example, in his much-
quoted words to William Farel, concerning the imminent renewal of
the world by God. His discovery of the Bible's wealth of divine wisdom
and saving grace, during the years at St. Germain-des-Prds, kindled
within him a lively hope for the human race. The Word of God seemed
about to be reborn with outreaching and saving power. There is an
ecstatic optimism that almost reflects the Joachimite vision of history.12
His eloquent expression of this has been culled by Editors Ross and
McLaughlin for an entry in their Renaissance reader. The paragraphs
belong in the important Meaux work of 1522, and glow with the age
that is seeing "a greater knowledge of languages, more extensive dis
covery of new lands, and wider diffusion of the name of Christ," than
ever.13 Lefevre held that after the time of the apostles the church had
fallen, a very common view of the Left Wing, but that now, "Why may
we not aspire to see our age restored to the likeness of the primitive
Church?"14 In his further faith in an eternal gospel which makes a
written gospel unnecessary, and in an age when all shall be spirit-
sighted, we are reminded of some of his contemporaries who bypassed
church organization and sought to live above any bondage to the
LEFEVRE D'ETAPLES: THREE PHASES OF HIS LIFE AND WORK 181
letter of Scripture. These ideas, to be sure, may simply belong in the

humanism of the time.
To pick up Lefevre's engagement with the mystics, let us mention
Ramon Lull. This man of Mallorca, two centuries earlier, had united
in himself the clear mind of the rational philosopher with the burning
heart of the poet, the mystic, and the missionary. The plain truth about
Lefevre is that he needed much more than the Aristotelian corpus to
feed upon. Aristotle offered the perfect pathway, the consummate prep
aration, the necessary discipline of the mind, but to what goal? The
way of mathematics and logic must lead to the mount of vision. Man's
metaphysical longings beg for something like union with God.
Nicholas of Cusa, like Lull, had found the way through mathe
matics to infinite reality. The German cardinal, wrestling with the
infinite in mathematics, came to contemplate the infinity of God.
Charles de Bouelles, Lefevre's co-worker, edits Cusa, expounds his "Art
of Opposites," and points up Aristotle as the necessary guide on the
way to a higher degree of knowledge. Where the great Greek must
leave us is where Pythagoras and Paul and Cusa enter, to lead us into
the silence, which is life-in-death.15
The mystics love the concept of silence. One may find hints of it
in Ignatius of Antioch, an edition of whose letters Lefevre gave to the
world.16 The Pseudo-Dionysius, who had a great influence on Lefevre,
had much on silence.17 We see here the love of paradox or apparent
contradiction: life-in-death, the silence which is eloquent with the
power of truth, the "Divine Darkness," and the ignorance which is
the highest and holiest wisdom. We must remember that Lefevre be
lieved this wisdom came from the true Dionysius, friend of Paul the
Apostle, and that therefore it bore apostolic credentials. This fact must
be called to mind when we observe later Faber's engagement with the
teachings of Paul. There is in Paul a mysticism of the indwelling
Christ, and the Apostle can meditate on that wisdom of God which is
foolishness to men. He, too, could be caught up into the rapture of a
higher vision.18 But we cannot imagine Paul writing as the unknown
named Dionysius wrote: "The soul, leaving all things and forgetting
herself, is immersed in the ocean of Divine Splendor, and illuminated
by the Sublime Abyss of the Unfathomable Wisdom."19
The mysticism of holy ignorance leads back to Cusa's striking work,
"Of Learned Ignorance."20 Hahn finds in Lefevre a reference to the
"ignorance which is superior to knowledge" and also to the sacra
ignorantia.21 We read in him, Lefevre, of that mystical blindness that
is more blessed than all seeing.22
'
Most of the familiar mystical figures are common in Lefevre's biblical

commentaries. In poverty of spirit, in penitence, in holy apathy, we
become as nothing and are rapt in ecstasy within the greatness of God.
The drop of water is lost in the boundless sea, and the spark in the
great fire.23
Let us look into the development and significance of the biblical
phase of Lefevre's work.
Lefevre's main concern with the Bible, as is well known, begins with
his settlement in the Abbey of St. Germain-des-Pres and his joyful dis
covery of its manuscript riches. In the year of his starting there, he and
Clichtowe translated four books of John of Damascus' De Orthodoxa
Fide. A purpose of this work was to supplant Peter Lombard's Sen
tences, which had reigned so long as a theological guide, and which
had by this time been the occasion of utterly fruitless discussion. To
revive the Damascene was to present a theologian who had professed
to build all on the Bible.
Then came in 1509 the Psalterium Quincuplex, representing not a
completely original step in biblical scholarship, but certainly a bold
landmark in its time. We are not specifically weighing Lefevre's abil
ities as linguist and scholar, so we shall not analyze this work, save to
say that its introductory letter and its commentary reveal his almost
breathless enthusiasm for the riches he has discovered. We shall men
tion the work again. He had found Christ all through the book of
Psalms, but he would find him more directly in the Apostle Paul, whose
Epistles with commentary he published in 1512. His championship
here of justification by faith alone, five years before Luther's Theses,
makes this a marked book, and other bold challenges to Catholic tradi
tion seemed to point also to its importance in the drive for a reforma
tion of the Christian church of the West. These works for scholars led
him into sharp controversy. Here was a doughty champion who en
tered the lists on behalf of the hdbraisant Reuchlin in 1514. It was a
courageous man who challenged the ancient tradition that the three
Gospel Marys were really one and the same person, and who crossed
swords with Erasmus over a verse in Hebrews.
Called to assist his patron, Bishop William Briconnet, in a religious
renewal in the diocese of Meaux which aimed at a restoration of primi
tive Christianity, Lefevre entered upon the boldest and most brilliant
period of his career.24 Margaret Mann sees definite influence of Eras
mus upon him in a new critical verve, and a shedding of some of the
credulous traditional elements in his mind. "Under Lefevre's pen," she
writes, "flow phrases more and more Erasmian."25 The New Testament
LEFEVRE D'ETAPLES: THREE PHASES OF HIS LIFE AND WORK 12J
commentaries and meditations that he sends forth now reveal him as

nearer the powerful Lutheran stream in evangelical thought and con
viction, and it seems fair to affirm that the Luther he had earlier in
fluenced now exerts a clear influence in reverse. Mann sees him as
becoming more and more biblien, and less and less credulous, though
she also reminds us that he never gave up his mysticism.26 June of
1522 brought forth his Commentarii initiatorii in IV Evangelia, which
not only reveals strong Lutheran influence in its bolder utterances, but
again reveals most clearly the strong mystical bent of his mind, as if
Luther had not the power to break the Dionysian tradition to which
he had been so firmly tethered. The New Testament in the French
language marks a new and exciting stage in his career, appearing in
1523 and so relating itself irresistibly to Luther's German version and
Tyndale's English. The hortatory epistles to the Gospels (June 1523)
and to the Epistles (September) reverberate with his trumpet calls to a
revival of true religion among all the people.27 Near the beginning of
1525, Lefevre put out his Epitres et Evangiles des cinquante-deux
dimanches, avec briefve et tres utile exposition discelle, popular
homilies on the New Testament.
The candle of official patience, however, had about burned out. Four
years previous, a hundred propositions of Luther had been condemned
by the Sorbonne (April 15, 1521). The royal protection for the reform
ers of Meaux, encouraged by the redoubtable Marguerite of Navarre,
could not hold up against the threats of heresy indefinitely, especially
when the king himself plunged into military defeat and captivity.
Berquin, spiritual son of Erasmus and Luther, had been condemned
in 1523, and Bishop Briconnet, thoroughly frightened, put bits on his
more uncompromising preachers or effected their removal. After the
Pavia defeat of 1525, Meaux was finished, or at least this fabriste chap
ter, and Lefevre with Roussel, one of the more forthright preachers,
fled toward Strasbourg in order to escape the summons to the Parle-
ment of Paris.
King Francis I subsequently recalled the aging scholar to a safe berth
under royal patronage, but the only final security for him now was
under the motherly shawl of Marguerite of Navarre in her castle at
Nerac. Lefevre's translation of the Bible into French, a fresh work with
which Rely's version of 1487 was not to be compared, was his last great
achievement. Impossible to publish in France, it saw the light of day
in Antwerp, 1528-1530. This became the basis for the standard Bible
of French Protestantism, that is, Oliv^tan's (1534-1535). as also for
many revisions made at Louvain.28
Protestantism owes this man much. I asked a venerable French Re

formed leader the hackneyed question: "Was Lefevre a Protestant?"
He responded unequivocally: "Yes, we claim him because he believed
in the sole authority of Scripture, justification by faith, and he rejected
the Catholic conception of sacrament." To press the question here is
not my aim. We can certainly understand the pride with which French
Protestant scholars date the Reformation in Europe from 151a, with
the publications of Lefevre's Commentary on the Pauline Epistles. If
I were asked the question myself, however, I should return a very
equivocal answer, the main reason being by this time more than ob
vious, namely, that I find the tracks of the medieval mystic everywhere
in his work. It is not hard to show that a clear-cut Protestantism in
volved a decisive break with the main directions of the Catholic mysti
cal tradition.
A closer look at the very works that superficially suggest Lefevre as
the John the Baptist of Protestantism reveals that most of his bolder
utterances are qualified in other spots by his distinctively Catholic and
mystical views. The work of the Meaux period would seem to open
up an almost-Protestant reformer, save that these writings are still and
always heavily loaded with his mystical presuppositions.
We propose now to stand Faber Stapulensis briefly alongside of
Luther and Calvin, with the purpose of showing in clearer light how
his mystical thinking seals him off by himself. Our purpose, we affirm,
is not to stand at the gate of the Protestant temple and deny entrance
to the scholar from Picardy. We merely hope to advance our thesis
that the Dionysian mystical is the dominant component in Lefevre's
theology, despite his vital engagement with the Scriptures and his
hearty and sincere commitment to church reform. With Renaudet, we
see him too faithful to "the study of a philosophy and a mysticism
totally foreign to the genius of classic antiquity"29 to be reckoned a
true humanist. And by the very same token we see his position on the
edge of the biblical revival a heavily qualified one. The mystical rules
him ever.
It is very revealing that all through his earlier years at St. Germain-
des-Pr&, Lefevre was interchanging Bible study with further adven
tures with the mystics. To observe the chronology of his publications
makes this quite clear. Between his publication of the Quincuplex
Psalterium and the Commentaries on Paul, for example, appeared his
edition of Ruysbroek (August 3, 1512). And, after the Paul, was issued
his Liber trium vivorum et trium spiritualium virginium (June 15 13).30
What wonder then that those two striking manifestoes of the dawning
LEFEVRE D'ETAPLES: THREE PHASES OF HIS LIFE AND WORK 125
biblical revival should be so revelatory also of Lefevre the mystic, the

spiritual son of Cusa and Pseudo-Dionysius? Cusa he published in
1514. As an aging man by the time Luther posted his ninety-five theses,
Lefevre could hardly be expected to change the mystical bases of his
theism and his spiritual culture. Such a concept as that of the hierarchy
of being was part of his mental fiber. Furthermore, justification by faith
will not capture his allegiance in a fully Lutheran sense, because he
has gone to school too long to those for whom "love is the hierophant
of all the mysteries."31
Lefevre thinks magnificently of God, as do Luther and Calvin.
Lefevre's theism, however, is dyed with the mysticism of the immeasur
able and the infinite, built on the kind of metaphysics that runs to
diagrams. The sort of diagrams we find on Lefevre's pages, not only in
his book on Pseudo-Dionysius, but even in his Quincuplex Psalterium,
are very far from Luther's mind, and Calvin's.82
I should refer my reader to Hahn's closely written article, Faber
Stapulensis and Luther, for an extended discussion of the very sig
nificant differences between the two. He brings us into the Quincuplex
Psalterium, for example, to see the neoplatonic feeling in such words
as these:
O God most exalted, God transcending all things, and rising very
high above all things.33
O God . . . Who art uncomprehended because Thou art according
to Thyself incomprehensible, hast portrayed Thyself through all
things so Thou mayest be comprehended.84
Then he insists on the great difference between the hidden God of
Lefevre and the hiding God of Luther. Luther's conception is of the
"revealed crucified God who works in opposition to human reason."85
The "natural" mysticism that led to ecstasy of "intoxication"36 was
far from Luther, whose deepest cry to God is perhaps the "Abba
Father," the child's cry that is answered in the assurance of forgiveness
and of a peaceful conscience. Luther, in his spiritual quest, had been
influenced by the Rhineland mystics, but what he took from them
finally was not their metaphysics.
Salvation for Lefevre is tied up with the traditional three-step mysti
cal ascent. In him there is a strong infusion of what would later be
called Quietism: The Allness of God stands over against the nothing
ness of man, and here is the sense of man as the purely passive instru
ment in the hands of the One who will play the music. And even here
is the outdQeia, that utter detachment that has a long history in the
Greek, Stoic, and mystical traditions.
Other familiar mystical concepts are recognized, as the Original-

Image relation of God and Man, and the ethic of the imitation of God
and of Christ.37 Lefevre's imitation theme, however, is pursued on very
different lines from Erasmus' "Philosophy of Christ," and it is doubtful
if we can speak soundly of an imitation of Christ in Luther at all. For
Lefevre, for example, we imitate God in our love for our neighbor,
who bears God's image. Our imitation of Christ is marked by our hu
mility, our dbtdOsia, our self-naughting, our suffering, our ascetic se
verity, our poverty. Following Christ into the mountain to pray is a
call to contemplation.38 This is the Lefevre who, reading Lull in the
very early days of our recorded knowledge of the former, is strongly
drawn to the monastic life, where there is the quiet seclusion and
every inducement to mortify oneself in the direction of the mystic
vision.
It is well known that Luther was significantly influenced in his ex
pository principles by his reading of Lefevre's Psalterium and the
Commentary on Paul's Epistles. His twofold interpretation, supplant
ing the classic fourfold of long tradition, was essentially Lefevre's, and
from the Paris scholar also he took his concept of the work of the Spirit
in giving the right spiritual meaning.39 Lefevre's spiritual guidance,
however, is conceived in distinctly mystical terms, as illumination. This
gift of the Spirit is purely of God's grace, but without it no man can
read the Scriptures aright.
As to Lefevre's relationship to Calvin, we first remind ourselves, of
course, of their only recorded meeting, when the young humanist, au
thor of a work on Seneca's "On Clemency," met the older man at
Marguerite's castle at Nerac. The year was 1534, after Calvin's flight
from Paris because of the alleged relationship he bore to Nicholas
Cop's heretical address and his association with luthdriens. It would
seem a propitious moment for the old warrior, licking his wounds and
preparing for death, to make an indelible impression on the younger
man, so shortly afterward to startle the learned world with his first
sketch of the Institutes. Lefevre recognized Calvin's personal gifts,
and said of him after the visit: "Calvin will be a distinguished instru
ment in restoring the kingdom of God in France."40
Hard pressed to fix a point for Calvin's "conversion," John T. Mc
Neill suggests Nerac and Lefevre as the occasion and instrument.41 This
is an interesting conjecture, and it is not improbable. To allege a clear
intellectual influence, however, is another thing. Francois Wendel sees
"no common measure between the religious aspirations of Lefevre and
reformed dogmatics."42 If one sees any common measure between that
lefevre d'etaples: three phases of his l1fe AND WORK 187
great antithesis which Lefevre shared with Marguerite, of "God who is

All and man who is nothing," and Calvin's sense of our creaturely
dependence on the will of the Sovereign God, one must surely read
further and deeper. The exalted theism of Lefevre and Marguerite
is derivative rather from Hermes Trismegistus, Pseudo-Dionysius, and
Cusa.43 Calvin clearly never spent much time in the house of the
traditional masters of Western Catholic mysticism, Augustine ex
cepted, and from the Bishop of Hippo he plucked from a different
branch of that widespreading tree. In his discussion of the angels,
Calvin in the Institutes speaks his mind bluntly on Pseudo-Dionysius.
The passage seems too significant for us to omit quoting it in this
connection. He is discussing the angels.
No man can deny that great subtlety and acuteness is discovered by

Dionysius, whoever he was, in many parts of his treatise on the Celes
tial Hierarchy; but, if any one enters into a critical examination of it,
he will find the greatest part of it to be mere babbling. But the duty
of a theologian is, not to please the ear with empty sounds, but to
confirm the conscience by teaching things which are true, certain,
and profitable. A reader of that book would suppose that the author
was a man descended from heaven, giving an account of things that
he had not learned from the information of others, but had seen with
his own eyes, but Paul, who was "caught up to the third heaven"
(II Cor. 12: 1ff.), not only has told us no such things, but has even de
clared, that it is not lawful for men to utter the secret things which
he had seen. Taking our leave, therefore, of this nugatory wisdom,
let us consider, from the simple doctrine of the Scripture, what the
Lord has been pleased for us to know concerning his angels.44
Consider, moreover, Calvin's exalted sense of the authority of Scrip

ture with this judgment on that mysterious author's mind: "For
Dionysius, the Scripture is hardly more than a part of tradition and
without doubt the least valuable because the most material."45
It is possible that we have made too much of Pseudo-Dionysius in
this short essay. Yet his repute remained great in the early decades
of the 16th century. Imbart de la Tour reminds us of this repute in
the face of Luther's and Erasmus' attacks on that mystical author.
"The Sorbonne," he writes, "had affirmed, almost as a dogma, the
authenticity of the treatises of the Areopagite . . . and Clichtowe had
borrowed from the Celestial Hierarchy some of his weapons against
Luther."46 It is worthy of note that Grocyn and Colet across the chan
nel both worked on Dionysius. We are reminded that Colet and Le
fevre shared not only their historical approach to the Bible but their
inclination to this specific mystic author.
Faber Stapulensis begins his amazing career, when first we meet

him, thinking and teaching in a Greek temple, foursquare and sym
metrical, symbol of reason and logic and clarity. Aristotle is his priest.
Faber's irrepressible longings, however, and his reach for the infinite,
change the temple's lines, and the right angles bend out into Gothic
arches and soaring vaults. The one he calls Dionysius is now reading
the office, with Lull and Cusa and others of the charmed order of
mystics chanting the responses. Aristotle has not retired, but continues
to serve as chief usher and master custodian. King David and Paul the
Apostle join the choir as soloists, and the heart of the humble wor
shiper is set afire when the music of the Psalms and Fpistles is lifted,
telling of the Word made flesh. Yet the chant of the mystic choir is
resumed, and the eyes of Lefevre d'fitaples continue to turn toward
the lofty pointed windows through which peer ranks of shining angels.
Continental Protestantism
and Elizabethan Anglicanism (1570-1595)
John M. Krumm
How did Anglicanism in the later years of the reign of Elizabeth I

regard the churches of Continental Protestantism? In the exciting
early days of the Elizabethan Settlement there had been no question
as to the closeness and cordiality of the relationships between the
Anglican leaders and their counterparts on the Continent, especially
the Swiss Reformers. John Jewel, Bishop of Salisbury from 1560 to
1571, wrote to Henry Bullinger of his nostalgia for Zurich in the
warmest and most extravagant terms: "O ZurichI Zurich! how much
oftener do I now think of thee than ever I thought of England when
I was at Zurich!"1
Most of the Elizabethan appointees to the Episcopal bench in the
early years of the reign were drawn from refugees who had fled
abroad during the reign of Queen Mary. Richard Cox of Ely had
been at Frankfort, James Pilkington of Durham had been at Frank
fort, John Jewel of Salisbury had been at Zurich and in Frankfort,
Edmund Grindal of London had been at Strassburg, Edwin Sandys
of Worcester had been at Strassburg, Robert Horn of Winchester
had been at Zurich and Frankfort—almost all of the earlier Eliza
bethan bishops knew the leaders of the Reformation abroad from
personal contacts established in the time of their extremity as refugees
from the Marian reaction. Their feelings for Continental Protestant
ism were not only those of kinship and alliance based upon theological
congeniality but the warmer and more intimate sense of friendship and
deep sympathy which would grow up among fellow workers in the
same church and community. The most notable exception to this rule
was the Archbishop of Canterbury, Matthew Parker. It is obvious
that as a consequence of Parker's having had no direct contact with
Continental Protestantism, he having remained in England throughout
Mary's reign, his comments upon the unsolicited advice that some
times came from abroad about English church affairs were a little
less than entirely cordial.” Despite this lingering irritation, however,

Parker acknowledged the theological indebtedness of the Church
of England to the Continental Reformers and conceived the relation
ship of Angelicanism to Protestantism abroad in close and co-operative
terms.
In what ways was this early sense of sympathy and kinship affected
by the course of events in the middle and later periods of the Eliza
bethan reign? In the natural course of events, of course, death removed
the earlier leaders, and a generation of English bishops—and also,
of course, of leaders of Continental Protestantism—arose who knew
nothing of the personal friendships and contacts of an earlier time.
By 1581 Jewel, Pilkington, Parkhurst, Horn, Cox, and Bullinger
were all dead, but even earlier than that the temperature of Anglican
Continental Protestant relationships had cooled decidedly under the
impact of English theological controversy.
In this connection the spotlight must turn on Thomas Cartwright,
who in 1569 had become Lady Margaret Professor of Divinity at Cam
bridge and at once undertook a series of lectures on the first chapters
of the book of the Acts of the 'Apostles. These lectures, in which he
developed a theory of ecclesiastical polity based, as he claimed, on the
Scriptures as well as “the example of foreign churches,” were destined
to “turn Puritanism into a new channel.” Suddenly the Puritan
movement in the Church of England had come to maturity. No longer
were its leaders to be content with occasional forays against incidental
outrages in ceremonial, vestments, and church usage. Here in the
Cartwright lectures was a frontal attack upon the whole basis of the
Anglican establishment. Inevitably, a new chapter in the relationships
between Anglicanism and Continental Protestantism had been opened.
The earlier tactics of Puritanism, of course, had also strained some
what even the friendly ties which linked an Anglican like John Jewel
to a Swiss Protestant like Henry Bullinger. Bullinger writes to Theo
dore Beza that he cannot be made to believe that men whom he knows
as well as he knows the English bishops could be the tyrannical mon
sters which the English Puritans are describing." The Puritan strategy
both before and after Cartwright's change of front was to appeal con
sistently to the example of Continental Protestantism in support of
their own proposals for Anglican Church reform. In the Puritan docu
ment, An Admonition to the Parliament (1572), the authors had in
cluded “a letter of Beza, and another of Gualter, wrote as it seemed in
their behalf: intending thereby to show, that they had the approbation
of two famous foreign reformed churches, namely of Geneva and Zu
CONTINENTAL PROTESTANTISM AND ELIZABETHAN ANGLICANISM 131
rich.” Cartwright himself frankly admitted the influence that the

foreign reformed churches had on his views. In his controversy with
John Whitgift, Cartwright asked, “Is a Reformation that is good in
France not also good in England? Would the discipline which is pro
posed for Scotland be detrimental for this Kingdom here? Surely God
hath set these examples before your eyes to encourage you to procede
to a complete and prompt Reformation.” Indeed, Cartwright turned
as naturally to Beza and Geneva for support as the earlier Anglicans
had turned to their friends at Zurich, Basle, and Strassburg, for Cart
wright like them had been an “exile” too. After his expulsion from
Cambridge as a result of his novel views on polity, he spent a year in
Geneva in closest association with Beza, and a firm and lasting friend
ship developed.* Although Cartwright was willing enough to criticize
foreign reformers and to differ with them—sometimes an overwhelming
majority of them.”—nevertheless it was natural and inevitable that he
should draw them into his debate with the Anglican authorities on
his side.
It cannot be denied that a new sort of independence and sharpness
of resentment begins to creep into Anglican writings about Continen
tal Protestantism in general and Geneva in particular in the contro
versy with Cartwright and the later Elizabethan Puritans. It is remi
niscent of Parker's annoyance at those who would make the continental
Reformation a pattern for other churches to follow, and it contrasts
sharply with the subservience and mildness which characterized the
Marian exile bishops. In his examination of Cartwright before the
High Commissioners in 1591, Richard Bancroft, then Bishop of Lon
don, detailed some of the “inconveniences” that came about in some
reformed churches that followed the “discipline,” to which Cartwright
was so devoted. “Do not we know from whom you draw your dis
cipline and Church government? Do not we know their judgments and
their practice? Which is to bring in the further reformation, against
the Prince's will, by force and arms? It is well known how one of the
English Church at Geneva wrote a book, to move to take arms against
Queen Mary; and Mr. Whittingham's Preface before it: and who
knoweth not that the Church of Geneva allowed it? Also, we have
seen the practice in France. Likewise it is written in the Scottish story,
how Mr. Knocks [sic] moved the nobility of Scotland to bring in the
Gospel with force, against the Queen there. And likewise well known,
that Mr. Calvin was banished from Geneva, for that he would have
brought in the Discipline against the will of the magistrate.” 10 In his
A Survey of the Pretended Holy Discipline, Bancroft goes to new
1J2 REFORMATION STUDIES
lengths in criticizing the methods of reformation used by Calvin:

"... nothing will content them [such men as Calvin], but that they
build themselves; and therein also they are very inconstant. Now this
must down, now that must up; now this must be changed and that
must be enlarged: here the workmen mistook me; this is not in good
proportion, away with it; I will have this square changed into a round,
and this round altered into a square. A fitter metaphor could not well
have been found, to have showed the unstayed minds of such manner
of reformers."11 What is more, Calvin's authority was as absolute and
unquestioned as that accorded the ancient Bishop of the city of Geneva
"that they should all be constrained, all the sort of them, to dance
after his pipe."12 Indeed, the major part of Chapter II of Bancroft's
Survey is given over to a critical and sometimes sneering review of the
history of Calvin's dealings in Geneva, intended, according to Ban
croft, to correct the general impression "as though that form of Dis
cipline had come lately from heaven, with an Embassage from God,
that all the Churches in the world must frame and conform themselves
to the fashion of Geneva."13
In the publication of Calvin's letters, done by Beza, was discovered
the former's comment on the Second Prayer Book of Edward VI:
"Multas video fuisse tolerabiles ineptias." This phrase, to be echoed
again and again in the critical estimates of Calvin among Seventeenth
Century Anglicans, led Bancroft to say scornfully that there was "not
one point of substance in it, for to persuade a child" and he wondered
that Beza saw fit to include it in the edition of Calvin's letters.14
Bancroft's bitterness extends also to the position which Calvin and
later Beza held in Reformation circles. Referring to the Reformation
in Scotland he observes sarcastically that "all must be done as it was
at Geneva. As any doubts did arise among them . . . yet no man but
Mr. Calvin for his time, and afterwards Mr. Beza, (as though they
had been such Peters for the Protestants, as the Bishop of Rome pre
tended himself to be for all Papists) was accounted of sufficiency or able
to dissolve them."15 Indeed, says Bancroft, Beza is to be compared
in his arrogance with Pope Leo: "I wish a man would read the Epistles
of Leo, sometime Bishop of Rome, and confer them with this of
Beza's, to consider whether took more upon him, Leo where he might
command, or Beza where there was no reason he should at all have
intermeddled."16 Here is, of course, a note entirely new in Elizabethan
Anglicanism, a note of resentment and annoyance and bitterness that
would have been inconceivable on the lips of Parker or any other of
the earlier Elizabethan divines. Adrian Saravia expressed it more
mildly and yet with unmistakable emphasis—"That the opinion of

Mr. Beza was not the rule of reforming the Church."17
This new independent spirit in Anglicanism began to manifest it
self also in matters of doctrine as well as of discipline. It first finds ex
pression in the relatively minor matter of some sermons by the Dean
of Lincoln in 1590 in which some of Luther's strong language about
Christ's bearing of the sins of man gave considerable offense. Strype
says the trouble was not really doctrinal but arose from the Dean
"reading some foreign Divines of great name, and confiding over much
to their theology and writings."18 John Whitgift, Archbishop of Canter
bury, after a careful examination, assured the Chapter of Lincoln that
"we find the Dean in substance of doctrine to differ from us in no
point . . ." He explained that the offensive words had been found in
Luther and Calvin "whom we in our judgments therefore do mislike
. . . And because you shall not doubt of my opinion in this matter, I
would have you to understand, that I think Luther, in saying, Christ
was omnium maximus latro, homicida, adulter, fur, sacrilegus, bias-
phemus, etc., and whosoever followeth him therein, or any other,
writing or speaking so intemperatly [sic] and unadvisedly, do write and
speak contrary to the phrase of Scripture and to the truth, and indeed
blasphemously." 19
A more important matter, full of significance for the future course
of theological thinking in Anglicanism, was the controversy over
Calvin's teachings on predestination, indefectible grace, and other
fundamental issues. The controversy headed up in a struggle between
Baro and Whitaker, both public professors of divinity at Cambridge,
representing respectively the more modified and the more rigid type
of Calvinism. Whitaker reported to Whitgift on June 13th, 1595, that
he had listened to a most distressing "determination," namely "That
justifying grace and faith might not only be lost, in some finally, but
even in the elect, for a time totaliter. And that this was proved by the
example of David. And P. Martyr and Calvin were alleged as teaching
the same: whom all men . . . knew to be of a clean contrary judgment.
And there was an insinuation given that we . . . who teach and have
always taught otherwise, are Anabaptists. I was present . . . and heard
it with mine ears, to my great grief."20 That the undisputed sway of
Calvin at Cambridge was facing a formidable challenge was obvious
when William Barret, a Fellow of Gonvil and Caius College, in the
course of a sermon ad clerum in St. Mary's in April 1595, "did venture
to declare his mind, with some sharp and unbecoming speeches of that
reverend man [Calvin] and other learned foreign Protestant writers,
(exhorting the auditors not to read them)."21 Although forced to make

a retraction, Barret was obviously unrepentant and appealed to Whit-
gift when the University sought to punish him. The frankness and
openness of his attack were quite unheard of, and the University offi
cials told Whitgift that "such impudent challenging of Calvin, Beza,
P. Martyr, Zanchy, and others, of error in doctrines of faith . . . they
never knew in our Church heretofore."22
The Heads must have known that in Whitgift they were dealing with
a representative of the newly self-conscious Anglicanism. The Arch
bishop had won his spurs in the Cartwright controversy at which time
as Master of Trinity and after November 1570, Vice-Chancellor, he had
led the campaign which eventuated in Cartwright's dismissal from
Cambridge. It is therefore not surprising to learn that in the contro
versy surrounding Barret's sermon the Calvinist party seemed to have
bypassed Whitgift and sought to deal with the more pliable Chancellor
of the University, Lord Burleigh.23
Whitgift took a decidedly moderate position in the Barret con
troversy. He was not entirely satisfied that the University officials had
not gone beyond the requirements of the Anglican formularies in the
language of the retraction which had been demanded of Barret. The
Archbishop confessed, for his part, that he thought ". . . the Scriptures
were plain, that God by his absolute will did not hate and reject any
man, without an eye to his sin."24 As for Barret's attack upon the
foreign divines, Whitgift admitted that "to traduce Calvin and other
learned men in pulpits, he could by no means like: neither did he
allow the same toward Augustine, Jerome, and other learned Fathers.
Which nevertheless had often and many times been abused in the Uni
versity without control. And yet if a man would have occasion to con
trol Calvin for his bad and unchristian censure of King Henry VIII,
or him and others, in that peremptory and false reproof of this Church
of England, in divers points, and likewise in some singularities; he
knew no article of religion against it. Much less did he know any cause
why men should be so violently dealt withal for it; or termed ungodly,
popish, impudent. For the doctrine of the Church of England did in
no respect depend upon them."25
The controversy was a prolonged one, and Barret made two appear
ances before the Archbishop to defend himself against the charges of
the Heads of the University. In his second he was asked, "Whether he
doth not acknowledge it a fault, in that he inveighed so bitterly and
contumeliously against those excellent men, Peter Martyr, John Calvin,
Theodore Beza, Hierom, Zanchius." Barret's answer was, "I acknowl
edge the learning of these men; and therefore I said nothing personally
of them: but because they brought in some errors into the Church of
God, and defended them, being brought in; therefore I, a student of
true and catholic doctrine, and doing the office of a Preacher, the rea
son of my office required that I should confute them. And therefore I
produced some things against John Calvin and Theodore Beza, and
touched them by name: but against the rest nothing at all. If those
things which I said seemed too bitter, and were an occasion of scandal
to any pious and truly religious, I repent me that I traduced them."28
The Heads declared these answers unsatisfactory and further investi
gation was conducted. Finally the Archbishop himself gave his judg
ment upon Barret's explanation, and referring to his statement about
the foreign reformers, Whitgift declared, "Indeed I mislike . . . that
he should once name them to their reproach. That errors might be
confuted without naming of the persons to their discredit; especially
such as had laboured in the Church, and that did concur with us in
the chief and principal points of religion. Notwithstanding, we had
been little beholden to some of them, who rashly and uncharitably had
believed some reports of this government, and took upon them to
censure us in books printed . . . But we must take heed . . . that their
bare names and authorities carried not men too far, as to believe their
errors, or to yield unto them that honour of forbearance of reproof,
which was not yielded unto any of the ancient Fathers."27
The Archbishop throughout the controversy maintained a sort of
middle-of-the-road position, on the one hand plainly manifesting many
sympathies with the Continental Protestant position, and on the other
hand insisting that some of their more extreme statements, especially
those recently sharpened at the hands of the more dogmatic Con
tinental Calvinists, could not legitimately be pressed as necessary inter
pretations of the Anglican formularies. Although he clearly expressed
agreement with the Heads at several points in the Barret controversy28
Whitgift stood stubbornly in a middle-of-the-road position, necessi
tated by the facts of theological history, and was the despair of the
extremists of his own time as well as of some modern scholars.29
Further light is thrown upon Whitgift's attitude by the much more
widely known controversy between Peter Baro and Whitaker on these
very points. Whitaker, obviously genuinely alarmed at the breach be
ing made in the Calvinistic front at Cambridge,30 conferred with
Whitgift and, assisted by Tyndal of Queens, drew up the famous
Lambeth Articles, finishing them November 20, 1595. As Pearson has
said of them, they "defended the doctrines of Calvin as forcibly and
dogmatically as the Puritan body could wish."31 They were intended

to settle the controversies which had been distracting Cambridge, and
perhaps represented a slight modification of the extreme language de
sired by Whitaker.32 It must be confessed, however, that on the main
points they represented the general line that the Heads had been in
sisting upon as sound and orthodox. They asserted an eternal double
predestination to life or to death, the efficient cause of which was not
a foreknowledge of the individual's faith, or perseverance, or good
works "or anything which dwells in the person predestinated" but only
the will of God. The number of the elect was fixed and could be neither
augmented nor diminished. Those who are not elected to life are neces
sarily for their sins condemned to damnation. "True, lively, justifying
faith and the sanctifying Spirit of God are not in the case of the elect
extinguished, are not lost, do not disappear either finally or totally."
In setting them forth for the use of the University Heads, Whitgift
added some words of warning: ". . . in teaching them, discretion and
moderation should be used . . . And that the propositions nevertheless
must so be taken and used as their private judgements, thinking them
to be true and correspondent to the doctrine professed in the Church
of England, and established by the laws of the land: and not as laws
and decrees."33 Even though they were commended thus moderately,
the Articles did not receive a cordial welcome at Court. Robert Cecil
informed Whitgift that the Queen "had commanded him to send unto
his grace, to acquaint him, that she misliked much that any allowance
had been given by his Grace and the rest, if any such points be dis
puted; being a matter tender and dangerous to weak ignorant minds."34
Burghley made a similar comment when Whitaker showed him the
Articles. As Strype tells us, "And concerning the proposition of Pre
destination, he seemed to mislike of it . . . and drew by a similitude,
a reason from an earthly prince. Inferring thereby, that they charged
God with cruelty, and might cause man to be desperate in their wick
edness.35
Peter Baro, Lady Margaret Professor of Divinity from 1574, was soon
the focal point of the struggle by reason of a sermon ad clerum on
January 12, 1596, in which he set forth three propositions: (1) That
God created all men according to his own likeness, i.e., to eternal life
"from which he chased no man unless because of sin; (2) That Christ
died sufficiently for all; (3) That the promises of God made to us, as
they are generally propounded to us, are to be generally understood."36
Whitaker instantly took action against him, claiming he had denied
the Lambeth Articles. It is interesting to notice in the controversy that
followed that Baro was occasionally censured for stirring up these

troubles in view of the fact that he was a foreigner. He had been born
near Paris and had received his ordination from Calvin himself at
Geneva in 1560. There is no evidence that he ever received episcopal
ordination but neither is it clear that he officiated in any priestly func
tions in the Church of England. He was at Cambridge by 1573. The
Queen told Whitgift that Baro ". . . being an alien . . . ought to have
carried himself quietly and peaceably in a country where he was so
humanely harboured and infranchised, both himself and his family."87
The Archbishop repeated this point in his letter to the Vice-Chancellor
"how unfit it was that he, being a stranger, and receiving such courtesy
and friendship here of good will, and not for any need we had of him
(God be thanked) should be so busy in another commonwealth, and
make himself as it were author of new stirs and contentions in this
church."38 The Archbishop of York declared that he "wished he were
in his own country, and not to disturb the peace of our Church."39 Baro
indeed found allies for his point of view from among continental di
vines. A letter to Niels Hemmingsen, a former pupil of Melanchthon,
refers to the fact "that we have hitherto been permitted to hold the
same sentiments as yours on grace." With the letter Baro enclosed a
manuscript of his own on the subject of Predestination in which he
distinguished three possible views on the subject which had been held
among the Protestant theologians and ventured to criticize Calvin,
Beza, Luther, and Zanchius and to affirm his own adherence to views
which he asserts are those of Melanchthon, of Hemmingsen himself, as
well as of the overwhelming majority of the Fathers of the early
church.40 Nevertheless Whitgift determined not to proceed further
against Baro, urging him in the future to avoid such troublesome sub
jects; and so the whole matter was passed over for the time being,
leaving only the unmistakable impression that the Cambridge strong
holds of Calvinism could be breached on occasion. The election of
Overal, who had supported Baro in the controversy, to replace Whit-
aker as Public Professor of Divinity showed the way the wind could be
expected to blow in the future.
Anglicanism, of course, despite these contentions about the details of
Calvin's theology remained in close relationship with the whole Protes
tant movement, and continued to think of herself as maintaining the
general cause of Reformation religion. In a sermon before the Queen
in 1574 Whitgift had enumerated the Protestant notes in Anglicanism:
"We have taught you the true doctrine of justification, the true and
right use of the Sacraments. We have confuted the erroneous and
f
damnable points of Papistical doctrine, as transubstantiation, the

sacrifice of the Mass, purgatory, worshipping of images, praying to
saints, the Pope's supremacy, and such like."41 Whitgift would never
have conceded that any of these fundamental matters was to be ques
tioned by a loyal Anglican. In the Parliament of 1586, Sir Christopher
Hatton, prompted by Whitgift, spoke earnestly of the excellence of the
English Reformation and "how many letters had been written hither
by strangers, to congratulate the sincerity and happiness thereof."42
Indeed so high was the esteem of such a Reformation leader as Henry
Bullinger in England at this time that his Decades was published in
1584 and ordered to be read by every candidate for the ministry. It
must not be supposed that the debates about Calvin and Beza and
their doctrines represent any Anglican declaration of independence
from the main stream of Continental Protestantism. This was a serious
family quarrel in which the representatives of Geneva were thought to
be pushing themselves upon the others, but Whitgift assures Beza that
he seeks the prayers of the church at Geneva ". . . to help us and the
whole Church of England: which we do dilligently for you and your
Church settled there with you, and will do hereafter, by the grace of
God."«
This attitude becomes clear in the whole discussion upon the main
point of Cartwright's attack—the polity of the church. The Anglicans
were well aware that, despite the almost overpowering example of
Geneva, episcopacy was not without sympathizers among the leaders of
Continental Protestantism. One of the chief sources of ammunition
against the Puritans was the fact that episcopal government had re
ceived at least tolerant acquiescence if not enthusiastic approval at the
hands of a very impressive number of foreign divines. It is apparent
that the defenders of the Anglican episcopacy were well versed in the
writings of the Reformers, and made use of their knowledge to trap
their Puritan opponents on a multitude of small points as well as to
establish the general position that no continental divine was to be
found in a dogmatic denunciation of "prelacy."
This theme runs through all the Anglican controversial material of
this period. Even Bancroft, who may well represent the extreme of anti-
continental feeling, fortifies his argument against Cartwright with gen
erous references to Zanchius, for example, and quotes Calvin as against
Beza and Beza against Cartwright. Zanchius's allowance of episcopacy
is based, according to Bancroft, on "true and religious humility" which
recognizes that one must "have regard to those Reformed Churches
which retain both Bishops and Archbishops" and which says there
CONTINENTAL PROTESTANTISM AND ELIZABETHAN ANGLICANISM 1JQ
fore ". . . who am I that should presume to reprove that which the
whole Church hath approved."44 Bancroft shows also that the Geneva
school of thought has become increasingly dogmatic and that Beza is
now insisting upon discovering the basis of ecclesiastical polity in
Moses, a point which Calvin had not mentioned. "See how they carry
us from post to pillar, Mr. Calvin is no body with Beza."45 Finally even
Beza is cited to the effect that ". . . if the Church of England, being
underpropped with the authority of Bishops and Archbishops do firmly
abide, as this hath happened in our memory, that she hath had men
of that order, not only worthy Martyrs of God; but most singular
Pastors and Doctors . . . Let her enjoy this singular goodness of God,
which I pray she may do so for ever . . . Geneva [does] not prescribe
to any Church to follow their peculiar example, like unto ignorant
men, who think nothing well but that they do themselves."46
Thomas Bilson in his The Perpetual Government of Chrisfs Church,
largely an attack upon the idea of lay elders, pointed out that Calvin
himself had occasionally expressed a generous and tolerant view of
episcopacy which his avowed followers in England might well emulate.
". . . you do Calvin wrong; who though in some things he dissented
from the Fathers of the Primitive Church in expounding some places
that are alleged for this new discipline, yet gravely and wisely he
giveth them that honour and witness which is due unto them. His
words treating of this point are these . . . [Bilson then quotes a portion
of the Institutes, IV, iv, 1 concluding with the words] 'For though
the Bishops of those times made many Canons, in which they seem
to decree more than is expressed in the sacred Scriptures: yet with
such wariness did they proportion their whole regiment to that only
rule of God's word, that you may easily see they had almost nothing in
their discipline different from the word of God.' I could wish that
such as seem to reverence so much his name, would in this behalf fol
low his steps. He declared himself to bear a right Christian regard to
the Church of Christ before him; and therefore is worthy with all
posterity to be had in like reverend account, though he were deceived
in some things, even as Augustine and other Fathers before him
were."47 Whitgift also cites Calvin's statement about the selection of a
leader in the first apostolic fellowship: Therefore well saith M. Calvin
in his Institutions, cap. viii: "That the 12 apostles had one among
them to govern the rest, it was no marvel; for nature requireth it, and
the disposition of man will so have it, that in every company (although
they be all equal in power) yet that there be one as governor, by whom
the rest may be directed." 48 Obviously this was a telling bit of strategy
—to accuse the Puritans of disloyalty to Calvin and to contend that

Anglicanism would have been acceptable to him if he had known a
little more about it. So Elizabeth could answer a petition for the new
discipline which came to her from the Parliament of 1586 that she had
". . . fully resolved . . . upon the truth of the Reformation, which we
have already . . . Her Majesty hath been confirmed in her said judg
ment of the present reformation, by the letters and writings of the
most famous men in Christendom, as well of her own dominions as of
other countries."49
The main Anglican argument against the Puritans began by assert
ing nothing but the propriety of the episcopal polity in the English
situation, the fact that it did not contradict Scripture (wherein no par
ticular polity was prescribed), and the fact that because of antiquity
and for other reasons it was a better sort of polity than the discipline
of Geneva. There was no attempt initially to suggest that the lack of
the episcopal government was a serious defect. Whitgift assured Beza
specifically that he and the other English bishops ". . . minded nothing
more than to vindicate the form of the government of the English
Church, and of the Liturgy ... in the mean time, no where opposing
the discipline of any other Church, or in the least reflecting thereon."50
He defended Adrian Saravia, who had aroused Beza's wrath by pub
lishing In Response to the Tracts on the Orders of the Ministers of the
Gospel, by assuring the Genevan divine that Saravia's only purpose was
". . . to assert degrees among the Ministers of the Gospel" and that the
book ". . . was wholly undertaken, without the injury or prejudice of
any particular Church."51 Bilson says that Geneva and England ought
to have different sorts of ecclesiastical polity because they have different
political situations in respect of civil affairs. "They live in a popular
state; we in a kingdom. The people there bear the chiefest rule; here
the Prince . . ."52 Similar sentiments found expression in a semi-official
statement made by the Bishop of Winchester in 1584, in reply to peti
tions for ecclesiastical reform along Puritan lines made by the Com
mons to the Lords. "It is also written by divers learned men, that one
state of discipline and government of the Church is convenient under
heathen princes and magistrates, and another under such princes as
favour the Gospel; yea, and that the form of government and discipline,
that may very well stand in a particular city, and the territories thereof,
cannot possibly be practised in the state of a whole country and king
dom, without great inconveniences; and therefore, that the example of
particular states cannot be brought into this realm without some
danger in altering the whole laws and state thereof."53
One of the retractions demanded from a Calvinist don at Cambridge

in the theological controversies at that University has been cited as an
example of "Anglican apologetic." It is noteworthy that it makes no
claim whatever for any kind of divine sanction for episcopacy, being
content to rest the case wholly on the grounds of history and expediency.
I do not think that there is set down by the word of God any precise
form of eternal regiment of the Church which must of necessity be
observed in all times and places without exception; but am per
suaded that for the better government of particular congregations,
her Majesty may establish such orders, as by her godly wisdom with
the advice of her godly and learned prelates she shall find to be most
expedient for the state of her country, according to her Majesty's
pre-eminence in church government established by the laws of this
realm, and expressed in her most just title, which is both agreeable
to the word of God, and conformable to the example of most ancient
churches, which have been ruled by Christian magistrates.54
This was all that Anglicanism was prepared to claim at this juncture
of the controversy, and it proved precisely to be too much for the full-
fledged Calvinists for whom the divine right of presbyteries was an
essential article of belief.
It must be confessed that Whitgift, at least, was not always con
sistent in this matter. At times he seemed to agree with the sentiments
of his colleagues, Cooper of Winchester, and Bilson cited above. "I am
persuaded," he wrote, "that the external sort of government of a
Church under a Christian magistrate must be according to the kind
and form of government used in the commonwealth; else how can you
make the prince supreme governor of all states and causes ecclesiasti
cal? Will you so divide the government of the Church from the govern
ment of the commonwealth that, the one being a monarchy, the other
must be a democraty or aristocraty?" 5B And again ". . . notwithstand
ing government or some kind of government may be a part of the
Church, touching the outward form and perfection of it, yet is it not
such a part of the essence and being, but that it may be the church of
Christ without this or that kind of government; and therefore the
'kind of government' of the church is not 'necessary unto salvation.' "Ba
On the other hand Whitgift sometimes confesses that he thinks all
churches ought to have retained the episcopacy, as when he declares
in the Defense of the Response to the Admonition, "I would wish that
those two countries [France and Scotland] as far as religion goes were
in the same state and condition as England."57 It is also possible that
he was prepared to question the validity of orders conferred by a
presbytery, although this is doubtful. In the famous Travers case, he
replied to Travers' contention that "Ministers lawfully made in any

Church of sound profession in faith were acknowledged such in any
other; and this to be the universal and perpetual practice" by making
a significant caveat "always excepting such Churches as allowed of
presbytery, and executed it."58 At the same time, as if ordination by a
regularly constituted presbytery were not in itself proof of a defective
ordination, Whitgift points out that Travers' case is further weakened
by the fact that he ". . . gadded into other countries, to be ordained
by such as had no authority" and that the reason for this was to avoid
having to subscribe to the Articles before the proper authorities. Whit-
gift's statement on episcopal ordination is restrained and modest, con
fining itself to the single question of the legality of nonepiscopal ordi
nations in the Church of England. On this one point, he simply declared
"That the laws of this realm required, that such as were to be allowed
as Ministers in this Church of England should be ordained by a
Bishop." »
A new line of approach, which inevitably carried with it tremendous
implications for the attitude of Anglicans toward Continental Protes
tantism, was first broached by Richard Bancroft in a sermon at Paul's
Cross, February 9, 1589, in which he maintained the divine obligation of
episcopacy. This was indeed, as Gwatkin calls it, "a short and easy
method with the Puritans."60 Strype believes that it was upon instruc
tion of Whitgift himself that Bancroft took the line that "the Bishops
of England had superiority over their inferior brethren, jure divino,
and directly from God."61 The Puritan sympathizer, Knollys, of the
Privy Council, at once sought to show that such a doctrine derogated
the Royal Supremacy, and it was on this point that the heat of con
troversy centered. More far-reaching in its effect was the work of Adrian
Saravia, who in 1594 wrote a treatise on the ministry, in which he
pointed out the antiquity of the episcopacy and his conviction that it
had fallen into ill repute chiefly because of the pretensions of the
Bishop of Rome. His opinion of the Geneva system was outspoken and
plain: "Therefore of this new manner of governing the Church, he
was, he said, of the same opinion that others held of the government of
bishops, namely that it was human, and to be borne with, till another
that was better could be obtained: and on the other hand that which
was disallowed of, as human, seemed to him to be divine; as being that
which, as well in the Old as New Testament, was instituted by God."02
In a later summary of his position, Saravia declared ". . . that he had
defended the episcopal authority to be of Divine institution and
apostolical tradition; and that it was taught, as well by the word of
God, as by the universal consent of all the churches."63 This testimony

gained impressiveness in the eyes of many Anglicans because it was
set forth so confidently by one who had been himself a minister of the
reformed Church in Holland and, as Strype says, ". . . then lived and
conversed among such as followed the Geneva form . . ."64
It is important to observe that to say that the episcopacy was of divine
institution did not carry with it the implication that the lack of it in
validated the ministry and sacraments of any church. Just as the Puri
tans of Cartwright's type regarded the Geneva discipline as ordained
of God and therefore necessary to the well-being of the Church, so now
the Anglicans of the Bancroft school could make the same claims for
episcopacy. Similarly just as Puritans resisted the Separatist movement
and stedfastly remained in the Church of England, admitting that its
corruption and lack of lay elders did not invalidate its ministry of
Word and Sacraments, so Anglicans of the extreme Bancroft school
would not go so far as to disown their sister churches of the continental
Reformation because episcopacy was lacking. There is no suggestion in
Bancroft, Whitgift, or Bilson that Anglicanism is different in essence
from any of the other churches of the Reformation. We have here no
conception of a "bridge church," which is distinct from Continental
Protestantism on the one hand as it is distinct from Rome on the other.
The position of Bancroft and Saravia, however, certainly makes possible
a further extension of the argument to the point where Anglicanism
can claim to be a branch of the Catholic church in a way that those
who lack episcopal orders cannot do. In this sense, we may say that
Bancroft laid the ground for a sort of Anglican "separatist" movement
that finds its culmination later in the thought of Laud and even later
in the Restoration divines. Whitgift, at least, would surely have re
sisted such an interpretation as earnestly as Cartwright denounced the
Separatists.
The dates in the title of this essay are intended to leave out of dis
cussion the impact of the work of Richard Hooker, in whom Anglican
ism achieved a new kind of philosophical and in some ways theological
independence of Continental Protestantism. Even before his classic
Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity, however, some of the distinctive marks of
what becomes identifiable later as Anglicanism emerged into view.
There was a disinclination to wade too deeply into theological con
troversy especially with reference to the favorite themes of the Calvinist
theologians. There was an impatience with foreign interference in Eng
lish Church affairs. The first hints that the Anglican arrangements for
church polity were not only to be tolerated in the Christian church at
large but had the claim to be jure divino began to be heard. But in
all this there was a refusal, as Archbishop Brilioth says of Richard
Hooker, "to disinherit his church from the treasures of the Reforma
tion any more than from those of the early Church."65 Elizabethan
Anglicanism is proudly and gratefully Protestant, not only, as Brilioth
says, in the sense of "the negation of Rome" but also "in the appro
priation of the new orientation of religion produced by the Reforma
tion."66
New Light on Butzer's Significance
Franklin H. Littell
Revival of interest in Martin Butzer (1491-1551), Reformer, has been

marked in the last thirty years. Always appreciated as a leading per
sonality of the sixteenth-century Reformation Butzer has only lately
begun to come into focus as a formative factor in the history of Protes
tantism. The delay is in good part due to the lack of a full, critical edi
tion of his writings—a labor finally begun by the Protestant theological
faculty at the University of Strassburg, but still far from completion.
Another reason for lack of balanced appraisal is the fact that many of
the documents on his extraordinary service to the Church of Hesse, in
the encounter with the Anabaptists and in the establishment of a terri
torial church with discipline, only became available ten years ago.
Indeed, although his influence as a distinguished exile upon the
order and liturgy of the Church of England has long been alternately
asserted and denied, it was as late as 1934 that a definitive study estab
lished his virtual authorship of the Anglican Ordinal.1 Finally, to in
dicate yet another area of major importance, it was only in 1957 that
a book was published which began to do justice to Butzer's contribu
tion to the "ecumenical" disputations and negotiations of the sixteenth
century.2 As the picture comes into focus we begin to see the great
Strassburg Reformer as a man of stature and originality. In his willing
ness to discuss with leaders of the most various opinions and to in
corporate into the practice of the established church the lessons learned
(e.g., Confirmation, Church Discipline, small group work in the
"Gemeinschaften"), Butzer contrasts very favorably with the Protestant
scholastics and persecutors. His relations with Anabaptism, Anglican
ism, and Calvinism were substantial and creative. His emigration dur
ing the Interim and death in exile have diverted attention from his
great statesmanship in Strassburg, Hesse, and the Rhine Valley. It is
not only his influence on Anglicanism that entitles him to rank among
the foremost forces of the sixteenth century.
Butzer's great strength was expressed in his doctrine of the Holy
Spirit. Both Lutheranism and Calvinism speedily fell into legalism, the
piling of precept upon precept, the savage persecution of those who

read the script differently, the brutal wars of religion which destroyed
80% of the people and reduced the German lands to poverty and dis
ease for generations. Neither the Lutheran Formula of Concord (1577)
nor the Calvinist Canons of the Synod of Dort (1618-1619) satisfactorily
expressed a consensus fidelium. Both signified a willingness to settle
for particularity long after the ability to discuss charitably had atro
phied. Both required abandonment of universal perspectives, the canon
ization of particular formulas, the eclipse of eschatology. Both, in their
lack of hope in things to come, lack of confidence in God's continuing
purposes, derived from a scholastic mind-set which was insufficiently
chastened and governed by a vital doctrine of the Holy Spirit. Butzer
could have instructed the brethren, but even in his own time he was
accused of "enthusiasm," of sympathy with the "Anabaptists of Mun-
ster," of spiritualizing tendencies. Because he remained open to discus
sion and was willing to learn even from those with whom he had little
in common, he was condemned by the dogmatic and inflexible for sup
posed instability and uncertainty of stance. Actually, he believed that
the ultimate decision rested neither with hierarchy nor professional
theologians but with the whole body of believers.
Even ordination of the church's servants rested in the midst of the
church; the corruptions which had entered the church after the early
times were to be overcome by a scriptural restoration of the ministries
as functions of the calling of the whole church. The bishop is a
"supreme presbyter," representing the college of presbyters. The pres
byter represents the congregation of the faithful. True decision is
reached in council, with the Holy Spirit in the midst.3 His greatest
difficulty with the leaders of the Anglican "Reformation" was precisely
because of his insistence that final authority and decision must rest
with the church and not with King, Prince, or Town Council.4 Butzer's
view of the sacraments, too, emphasized the whole church as the locus
of the Holy Spirit. The church order of 1534, written after the dispute
with the separatists, emphasized the work of the Holy Spirit. The
various aspects of church order are determined, to be sure, by reference
to Holy Bible and the experience of the early church. But even the
assurance that the Bible is God's word comes to us as a gift of the
Holy Spirit.5
We have now concrete evidence of Butzer's willingness to discuss
issues and seek a genuine consensus fidelium in the documents of the
Marburg Disputation (1538). Here, as advisor to Philipp of Hesse, he
demonstrated his willingness to learn as well as teach. As a result of
>
/
NEW LIGHT ON BUTZER'S SIGNIFICANCE 147
his acceptance of church discipline, in dispute with the Anabaptist

leaders, this phase of Christian discipleship was introduced into the
Church of Hesse at the Ziegenhain Synod (1539). In the only case of
the sixteenth century, over 200 Anabaptists rejoined the established
Church of Hesse. Beyond that, there is evidence that Butzer's striking
success with the Anabaptists influenced John Calvin's thinking about
the nature of Christian discipleship. During this same period Calvin
was an exile in Strassburg; when he returned to Geneva he introduced
church discipline as the "third mark" of the true church with (1)
Word and (2) Sacrament, and from that time "the ban" became a
permanent part of Reformed—as well as Anabaptist—teaching and
practice.
The translation which follows makes available for the first time in
English one of the most important exchanges between state church
Reformation and pioneer free churchmen. It is a major section of the
Marburg Disputation, a turning point in Reformation ecclesiology.
1538 Oct. 30-Nov. 3. What Butzer debated with the Anabaptists at
Marburg. The Report of the secretary, Valentin Breul.
I. Jorg Schnabel: Church Discipline (Bann). The Church. Usury
(Wucher).* Baptism. Government. The Humanity of Christ. Absolu
tion. II. Leonard Falber of Maastricht: the Ministry. Separation. III.
Hermann Bastian: Church Discipline. Government. Baptism. His
Recantation. Peter Losse.
Done Wednesday after Sts. Simon and Jude the apostles (Oct. 30)
in the year 1538. In the presence of Crafft Rauen, Dr. Eisermann
(Montanus) Hartman Schlern, the Rector, Master Adam, Dr. Tra-
chen, the Pastor, and other learned men, also the Mayor, Town
Council, and others among the most important citizens of Marburg.
In the beginning Dr. Eisermann held up the Anabaptists to criti
cal review, [describing] how they had been treated in various ways
previously, that they might be brought back to a right understand
ing of the divine holy Scripture. But because that was fruitless, our
gracious prince and lord had brought God-fearing strangers here who
should discuss with them, with the hope that if they previously had
acquired rancor or hard feelings these could be eliminated; and one
of them should speak up—Jorg Schnabel or Leonhard—and the oth
ers keep still, so that the discussion could be carried through and
completed in orderly fashion. And then Jorg Schnabel, after he had
conferred with Leonhard and Peter Losse, said that one couldn't give
the other his proxy; [he hoped] it wouldn't be held against them.
They were asked why they had separated themselves from our
church [gemein]. His answer came back, that he was repelled by false
doctrine. When he had first heard the Lutheran doctrine he had be-
• Under "Usury" the Anabaptists included both avarice in business and the church
tax system.
come a servant of the cash box; he hadn't realized that [pursuing]

much commerce was against the Bible. In the first chapter of Amos*
it is written: "Therefore shall the land mourn, and every one that
dwelleth therein shall languish; even the priests thereof shall fall."
And in the New Testament it stands: "God will judge every man ac
cording to his work." Note: "He has not spared the angels in heaven."
Now such is written for an example. Note that in Hebrews the same
is written. Because of these he entered into discussion with his
[stated] pastor, for he saw that it was worse with him than with the
pope; and especially he explained to him two matters, usury and
church discipline. Note: He had read about these matters in Luther,
Melanchthon, and in Dr. Eisermann's book which he wrote on the
common necessity, that they wrote perversely. And now he hoped
that he should give honor to the gentlemen present; and his pastor
conceded that things were ill in the church; he would do his duty
and he, Jorg, was answerable before God that he also look to the mat
ter. But the pastor lightly let the matter drop. When they were next
together, he, Jorg, had said: "Pastor, here is money that I am to con
tribute, but such is forbidden in the Bible and in the city there are
many poor people." The pastor said: "It is our Lord's command that
the cash box be enlarged." And, in sum, he declared to pastor, mayor,
and town council that he wished to separate from them. Note: He
had spoken here in the Marburg church office of the same two ar
ticles, church discipline and usury—which they maintain improperly.
Note: The Marburg pastor had cited him to the authorities, that he
wanted to overthrow kings and punish all evil with the sword. In that
he had done him an injustice.
Then Martin Butzer began by calling diligently on the Lord God
and admonishing that all present should also earnestly beg for grace.
Then he told how our honored prince and lord followed this matter
with earnest care and therefore it was of the greatest import that
those in error should be brought again to a right understanding, etc
Now the Anabaptists were being asked what was the reason they had
separated themselves from the parish. Thereupon Jorg had pointed
out two reasons, one, church discipline, and the other, that the pastor
wouldn't face the issue of usury. Here Butzer asked if they didn't
have other points. Said Jorg: "Yes, but these are the most important."
(Butzer) He hoped that a repentant life was preached here and that
Christ had redeemed us. He hoped that the pastor and the preachers
wouldn't have fellowship with anyone who didn't do that. But the
way church discipline was exercised was plainly set in Matthew
18:17. And whoever now wasn't living in great sin and declared to
the church as such and then publicly convicted, one couldn't ban ac
cording to the text. For Judas took communion, but was not yet con
victed before the church. Now there cannot be a church without
church discipline (ein ban). And wherever there are whoremongers,
usurers, and other sinners among the brethren who after brotherly
warning declared according to the gospel will not reform, they shall
• Actually a paraphrase of Hosea 4:3.
not be kept in fellowship. The preachers show this beyond all doubt
in proclaiming the death of the old Adam and putting aside of all
sins. And because Judas was not convicted before the church, Christ
gave him communion like the others. He believed that the preachers
gave no one the sacrament who would not stand aside from sins,
whom one should let go as an enemy of God. No one can be banned
unless he will not listen to the church or has been brought before
the church. Christ preached his word; the one to whom it applies
has to be held all the more urgently by the ban. And the Anabaptists
have no justification from the Scriptures to separate from the church,
for St. Paul refers to such in the churches as can be read about in I
Corinthians 5:1, that they were puffed up, were immoral to a de
gree worse even than the heathen. Paul expelled the one who bedded
with his stepmother; that was properly done, and one should cite
first who is to be expelled.
Jorg: I spoke of usury. Although this church was to be better than
the papist, I have evidence in my heart that led to my separation: for
avarice is now double in the church.
Butzer: I spoke of church discipline. We intend to speak with you
first about this and later about usury. You don't have cause enough
to separate yourselves, for you shouldn't be more strict than Christ,
who commanded to cut off only those who will not hear the church
after adequate warning and conviction, even though they've been ex
posed thoroughly to the proper text, Matthew 18.
(Jorg) He had given answer on church discipline and discussed
with his pastor the way Matthew 18 stands written. And that the
preachers have withheld the sacrament from the open sinners was
more of a warning than an improvement.
(Butzer) Jorg didn't deal with the pastor according to the text,
Matthew 18, for he didn't take it to the fellowship and to the church.
Thus even the believers didn't agree with him in condemning the
pastor. The church must exercise the ban. If a mayor didn't use his
office and the community suffered, it wasn't for a single citizen to
unseat him. In the same way a solitary citizen in the kindom of
Christ can expel no one. By his separation Jorg had offended the
community and done no honor to the Word of God.
(Jorg) He had acted justly according to his understanding. For he
had only shown the pastor that he should stand apart from those
things which were wrong. Because he wouldn't stand apart, he had
justly separated himself.
(Butzer) He would like to see the text: whether the pastor expelled
the sinner or whether a single person might separate himself.
(Jorg) He hadn't separated himself from the parish or the people
but only shunned the pastor along with his doctrine.
(Butzer) Said he had shunned the community for he had shunned
the preaching [service]. For there one is to hear the Word, receive
the sacrament, pray, and give alms. And according to the gospel
(Matt. 23:2)—"they sit on Moses seat," etc.—they are not to pay at
tention to the person of the preacher. In short, no individual alone
is to remove a mayor or pastor or because of them, where they are

lazy in their offices, to sunder himself from the civic and Christian
community with the other citizens and Christians. Those who belong
to Judas have heard the Word of God. He desired again to have the
ground and proof text for his separation; for he had not shunned
the pastor but the office of pastor.
(Jorg) Repeated the words of Matthew 18; the church hasn't had
the strength to live up to it. So he pointed it out to the mayor and
town council; and if Butzer wouldn't give it adequate acceptance
he would let it stand to his record. But he was certain of it in his
heart.
(Butzer) The Lord gave the key to the church and not to any single
individual.
(Jorg) Said the church had shown itself to be incapable of such
discipline.
(Butzer) Nevertheless he hadn't acted properly in relation to the
church; even if it had been foul in its leadership. Neither he nor any
other individual is empowered to expel someone and especially not
to appropriate the common service of the church. Expulsion was for
two purposes, that the good be not corrupted by the bad and that
those cut off may be shamed. He asked again as before, since the
church had not expelled the pastor, that Jorg might show the text on
the basis of which he had shunned pastor, pastoral office, and the
whole fellowship before an official expulsion by the church [had
taken place].
(Jorg) Said still: He had punished them according to the ordinance
(even here in the church office his weakness was demonstrated, but
he didn't abandon it). Note and watch him: he did it justly, in sep
arating himself.
(Butzer) Among the Corinthians the church had managed the
communion improperly, that is with prophesying by tongues and
much more; but the apostles had not therefore expelled the church,
and Jorg had no divine command, when he immediately punished
the pastor, that he should separate himself.
(Jorg) Said: After Paul showed the Corinthians their crimes they
improved themselves and expelled some.
(Butzer) Indeed they expelled those cited, but grew in much other
wickedness, as Paul complained in the other Epistle to the Corinthi
ans (12:20): "I feared, lest when I came to you . . . ," etc. But be that
as it may, Jorg still hasn't brought a holy text forward which would
justify his separation, even though the church may have been ne
glectful in exercising church discipline.
(Jorg) Repeated his previous argument, that [they] have acknowl
edged it to be wrong and have indicated as much to them here in
the church office. And since they were all at ease in this practice, he
hoped he had done justly and stopped with that.
(Butzer) Concluded from it that he had showed no text for his
separation; for those only are to be shunned who will not hear the
church.
(Jorg?) That's what the church says, but asked if then the one who
NEW LIGHT ON BUTZER'S SIGNIFICANCE I5I
had a better understanding of the matter shouldn't separate from

them when they didn't do what was Christian?
(Butzer) To punish and warn whoever doesn't walk the right path,
and to shun all evil, is not forbidden. But to separate one's self, that
is wrong.
(Jorg) Paul says (Gal. 5:21): "The wicked shall not inherit the
Kingdom of God." And now when they do evil shouldn't he go apart
from them, that perhaps there may be some who would improve
themselves?
(Butzer) The wicked who harden in it will not inherit, etc. But
that all who are of Marburg are wicked, that he can't believe. Said
again, he had no proof text.
(Jorg) He had authorization all through the Bible to shun evil.
(Butzer) Conceded, to avoid evil. But when he has admonished
someone, he has no proof text that he should separate from him as
long as the church doesn't expel them.
(Jorg) He was convinced from the very beginning that the preach
ers don't have the Word; he has shunned them and evil.
(Butzer) Repeated his request that he be shown the proof text for
his shunning.
(Jorg) Said this church was presented to him as a Christian church.
Asked if it was still a Christian church after it recognized one's sin
and didn't expel them.
(Butzer) Should give proof text for his shunning. Wherever there
is a church which gladly hears God's Word, that is a Christian church.
And where it doesn't expel the sinner, he has no ground to shun
them. Where there are believing people and they have a preacher
and other leaders, even if they are found to be negligent to discipline
a person for something disruptive, no other individual shall take it
on himself to shun them or expel them whom such a church hasn't
banned.
(Jorg) Believed [the discussion] should have been closed earlier and
his answer remained: If it were the church of Christ then it would
have gone ahead with such an understanding; since it hasn't done it,
it is no believing church and he won't accept it unless he is con
vinced by the Bible itself.
(Butzer) Spoke to those standing about; they have heard this talk
and he will also finish off and have the decision put to the church of
Christ.
On The Church
(Butzer) Jorg said before that there was no Christian church here.
Reason: it had not banned [anyone]. Believed there had never been
a pure church on the earth, else we would not have to pray: "For
give us our sins"; and asked if he didn't acknowledge the church,
which Christ recognized and which yet had shortcomings (mangel),
to be a Christian church.
(Jorg) Requested that each answer be heard separately.
Butzer: Yes.
Jorg: A church would not be condemned which is organized ac
cording to the true order of Holy Scripture, namely, with repentance,

faith, baptism, doctrine, the laying on of hands, even if it has
inadequacies.
Butzer: There would never be a church built which didn't acknowl
edge inadequacies and beg God's grace. The church at Corinth was
also a congregation of God, which Paul rebuked for committing so
much wrong; nevertheless he wrote them as belonging to the one
church; and as long as the church retained the true doctrine and
sacraments one should defer to the leaders when they are unright
eous. Christ let himself be circumcised, holding fast to [the ordi
nance] even though the main part of the people was in the wrong
and the priests were thoroughly out of order. And he desired that
Jorg should show if the teaching was wrong, if the sacrament was
not rightly maintained. Paul recognized in all his Epistles the
churches of Corinth, Thessalonica, Rome; but nevertheless in the
same Epistles he rebuked many errors and inadequacies. And where
there is such a church, even with no more than one or two who
teach well, he should not turn away as long as the pure doctrine and
sound sacraments are there.
(Jorg) Said to the last points that he wanted to hold fast to those
who have rightly understood the Lord. Said Philipp Melanchthon
visited and discovered that the teachers had forgotten repentance;
that caused much wickedness. Our teachers do the same. Luther said:
It is impossible for me to build a true Christian church because I
don't have the people for it, etc. Now Luther wasn't clever enough
to build such a church; since it was not to be interpreted as rebellion,
he must have said it for a warning.
(Butzer) The communion of saints was in the Lord. But there was
no church so perfect that it could act sturdily enough against wicked
ness, as Paul writes in all his Epistles, even though it be a church of
God like to that at Jerusalem. And there Christ didn't pay attention
to the whole mess nor to the perverted priests and yet kept all the
ceremonies of the community with the few good people. It's not to be
denied that both Melanchthon and Luther have complained that
many pastors proclaim faith without repentance. The reason why
Luther said he wasn't clever, he couldn't yet set up a church, he
didn't have the people yet, is for this reason: there can't be expul
sion without prior special admonition and correction. But he lacked
people to commission with the special admonition and bringing be
fore the church. If one acted in disorderly fashion, that was rebel
lious. One must admonish in love often and much, as a diligent
mother scolds her children, even though she loves them very much.
At the time of Christ and the apostles there was also no ban. Reason:
they didn't have the people who could have exercised the warning
and brought them before the church. Whoever is in Christ is in the
church; whoever is not, doesn't belong in the church; yet he can't
justly be expelled or be shunned by someone by any other means
than according to the ordinance of Christ.
On the following Thursday Butzer first recapitulated the doings
>
of the day before. And he asked Jorg if he conceded it to be a church

where they believe in the Word of God. Answer: Those who commit
themselves to the truth and stand obediently in Christ, them he re
spects as a church.
(Butzer) Here, too, they are agreed that there have always been
easy livers and sinners in the church. But when they aren't cited they
are not to be banned. Even after the sending of the Holy Spirit the
eleven apostles had many shortcomings; yet their heart was loyal to
God. And today, too, even among the most saintly, not to speak of
the weak and stupid, much error and inadequacy are found in the
midst of the true faith and fellowship of the church.
(Jorg) Asked if he thought the church from which he [Jorg] had
separated himself was a Christian church.
(Butzer) He would let specific people answer what had to do with
specific people; and the church at Aldendorf is to improve whatever
is bad. Whoever won't hear the church shall be expelled. And in our
church it is to be handled and preached as stated in the confession
given the emperor. But if there is error and shortcoming in doctrine
and sacraments, let Jorg point it out.
(Jorg) Would like to know if the church in Aldendorf is the church
of which Matthew 18 was written.
(Butzer) Where teaching is Christian, there is a church—here in
Marburg, in Aldendorf, and in the whole land of Hessen the same is
built up. But if there are tares in the midst, they must be borne with
until the harvest unless they become so prominent that they can be
rooted out advantageously and without danger to the wheat; all of
which must always be done according to the oft-cited ordinance of
Christ.
(Jorg) Asked, when the Word is there and not the power, if he
still held the church at Aldendorf to be such a church? He would
convince them that they have behaved and acted against the Word.
Butzer: Let us hear that; go ahead and point out the deficiency.
(Jorg) He complained of the leaders, the teachers, as he had said
yesterday, on usury and the ban. But what happened to him was like
a master swordsman who finds another at his post, and his sword and
authority are taken from him. Three and a half years ago they took
their books away from them and threw them into darkness. But they
still have comfort in their hearts. They desired that they be given a
Bible, as they should be treated by the church.
(Butzer) Even if their books were taken away, they still didn't have
sufficient cause, they have acted unwisely, to separate themselves; if
they had cause enough then, then they must still have it and could
give reasons. Requested that they point out the inadequacies in doc
trine, sacraments, and life.
(Jorg) He found evidence in Scripture how the church should act;
and he has come here to show the people when they have done
wrong. Since they have been jailed, he would convince them from
Scripture.
(Butzer) The honorable gentlemen and all of us desire to hear the
ground of his separation. Now he brings forward nothing but the
error of certain servants, which he has not yet established and proved
to them; and even if he had proved it, he had heard yesterday that
that wasn't sufficient basis for his separation; since he wanted to be
judged in his own case he did an injustice to the church. Whoever
follows the confession given to the emperor, him they would accept.
But whoever had deficiencies, he should be improved.
(Jorg) Yesterday pointed out two articles; would also show their
inadequacies. Under the papacy it didn't happen that the poor
people were driven out of house and home. But they were driven
now, and the authorities said in Wolkstorff that if he followed what
he knew they wouldn't sit still but the law would be enforced more
severely yet.
Master Adam answered him immediately, said the opposite, and
referred to and cited the princely law on the matter.
(Butzer) Whatever church persecuted the innocent did wrong. If
the church persecuted them and he wished to condemn it, then he
was judging his own case.
(Jorg) Said still they weren't the church; Paul said (Rom. 14:17)
the kingdom of God was peace and righteousness. They pursue un
righteousness and create disturbance among the citizens of Marburg,
so that people flogged and drove them out; and when they asked the
council and citizens of Marburg the very people who flogged them
said they didn't deserve it and they were acknowledged to be pious
people by them.
(Butzer) No injustice in the church was to be justified. He has not
established that the church in Hessen was without righteousness, for
he also hasn't established yet that injustice was done him and that
he unfairly suffered for peace, etc. Said the church hadn't cited them
and put them in the tower, but the government (oberkeit) did it; and
it was justly done for they caused unrest; when the church desired
to be at one with them, then they despise the whole church, draw
away from it whenever they can and unsettle many simple con
sciences. They want to be pious, and they say they've been done in
justice; but they have to demonstrate that they have separated them
selves from us and set up serious division and trouble justly; thereby
nobody was made pious, but considerably damaged in many ways;
in this they are not yet justified by anything in our churches; and
that which Jorg cited had no weight, for we approve the ban and
disapprove of usury, which were the only two points yet brought
forward.
(Jorg) Is satisfied that they intend to let the guilty remain until
Christ come, and evidently they won't listen to what he has demon
strated; so he can only recommend it to him who will judge [the
matter].
(Butzer) Let him point out what they do; that he hasn't proved!
(Jorg) Pointed it out in part today and yesterday.
(Butzer) Said to those present that they have heard that the ban
wasn't thrown out and that usury wasn't wanted in the church.
(Jorg) Declared they have shortcomings in the sacrament. Luther
and Zwingli have caused division, and our church misused the
sacrament.
(Butzer) Any who want to be at peace can indeed be at peace in
their unity. There were two things, in the supper the sign and that
which it signified; and they have always heard that the fellowship
of the body and blood of Christ is given in it.
(Jorg) Because they are not a Christian church, they also adminis
ter the sacrament improperly. That they misuse it, and that in dis
orderly manner, has been exposed to the light of day; for they use
it with drunkards, usurers, and harlots.
(Butzer) The churches of Hessen maintain, according to the confes
sion tendered the emperor at Augsburg, that the flesh and blood of
Jesus Christ are received in the sacrament. In the sacrament we re
ceive the flesh and blood, etc., that feeds and sustains us unto salva
tion. But when Jorg says drunkards, etc., are admitted, if he points
one out who has been banned and convicted, who has been given the
sacrament, then that will be altered for the better.
(Jorg) The reason this discussion takes place is that the ban re
mains unused. The papists have kept a better order than we.
(Butzer) The ban was not to be allowed to decline, Matthew 18;
I Corinthians 5; II Thessalonians 3:14, say also, the elders shall watch
over the church and a housefather over his household. The issue is to
be handled with those who loan in sin; if they will not hear they are
to be expelled; however hard the ban is felt, yet Christ drove the
meeting even more energetically than banning. But there was no
supervisory office that had brought a charge.
(Jorg) Has demonstrated his opinion where shortcomings were to
be found. If Butzer wasn't content with it then it would just have to
be that way.
(Butzer) Said to the audience, teaching was according to the con
fession. Whoever didn't do that, he could be cited [for it].
On Usury
(Jorg) He had demonstrated from Scripture that one should not
practice usury, neither with gold nor with goods.
(Butzer) They say they wished to justify no usury; and he must
give evidence and cite where usury exists. For they condemn usury
as he does.
(Jorg) They practice usury, taking of twenty guilders one. But
now for twenty guilders they required a measure of grain; that was
two or three and a half guilders. Now in the first place the church
took one guilder from twenty; this was forbidden in the Scripture.
(Butzer) Read to him from the 6th chapter of Luke (vss. 31, 34),
where the Lord said, "whoever asks of you give to him," and "lend
to those from whom you expect nothing in return," etc.; and demon
strated from it that the Lord himself had given this rule for all such
cases: "Do unto others what you would have them do unto you."
According to it, therefore, when the matter has to do with one's
neighbor, whatever we justly would wish if we stood in his place, or
that we ourselves would take as let or loan, which would mean to us
not only no excessive profit but also gave no basis for hope to receive
again the loaned amount, that we should do for our neighbor, as
we would hope in such a case to happen to us. Where, however, the
neighbor has a gain won from use of the gold of another, who in the
meantime is not without a certain disadvantage, then love requires
that he also share such profit with his neighbor, whose gold he used.
Where now it is managed accordingly, be it with rents or other busi
ness, then it has been done in love and no one has a complaint. But
wherever the neighbor has been injured, we condemn that also. But
now when the common rule in the matter is five out of a hundred,
those who use others' money can easily pay with their profit. If then
the treasury at Aldendorf has managed according to this rule of
justice, Jorg has no complaint against them; for those people have
been put in charge of the treasury money, in order to earn more;
and thus when one's own goods are sold to the treasury, from them
the blessing of God may be expected for the poor people. All church
money should be divided into three parts and used: the one part is
to be assigned for the maintenance of schools and church personnel;
the second for the care of all needs in the parish and of special per
sons; the third is for building churches and for maintenance. But
because unfortunately many needs show up in it, and thereby the
believers don't give so much to the treasury, it must be looked to that
those who hold the treasury also serve the poor. Where now some one
serves his own investments with the money of the poor, shouldn't he
also share from it with the poor people? God forbade the Jews that
they take usury which damaged the neighbor, and not such a just
distribution of the profit to which the Lord sends his blessing—
from the money of one and the trade or sales of another. Where
such a tax is raised, with which the poor tax collector is criticized,
injustice is done. But when five guilders are taken from a hundred
according to the common rule, with it he can also make his own in
vestments. But where the case is ambiguous, love shall be the master.
Such business is a service and a work of love—no usury and also not
forbidden by God.
(Jorg) How profitable love has been, has been demonstrated in
fact.
(Butzer) The papists also desire to condemn our people, saying
things get worse all the time. Our doctrine is this: Work repentance
and also good. And it isn't the fault of the teaching that people
don't do it. In the Old and New Testament it has always been the
nature of God's Word that it always irritated those people who
didn't accept it, just as is thoroughly demonstrated in Romans 1.
"Many are called, but few are chosen" (Matt. 20:16). Those who
don't accept the doctrine, after it has been thoroughly explained to
them, they sink more deeply daily and give occasion for the saying:
"Since the new doctrine has been preached, many people have be
come worse." Indeed, what has happened is what the prophets,
Christ and the prophets have proclaimed—as indeed the histories
and other writings show. The gospel washes us of all evil wherever
it is rightly accepted. But now only the fourth seed brings forth fruit,
as Christ says.
(Jorg) It has been spoken well, but he has not been rejoined; the
actualities must be dealt with.
(Butzer) That we shall do.
On Baptism
(Butzer) Repeated what the argument was about and since Jorg
claimed the sacraments were misused and specifically baptism, he
said: We ask of you, since you blame us for abuse, that you point out
the abuse to us.
Jorg: You misuse baptism, because the teaching of the gospel is
that men are first to be convicted of their sin, afterwards they are
incorporated in the fellowship of the holy church; which [ordinance]
you let fall, when you baptize infants.
Butzer: We say, the ordinance is as he says when the adults are
dealt with, but with the children there is another order. In the Old
Testament, God had his covenant with Abraham and gave him
thereby the seal, circumcision, and promised him thereby he would
be a gracious God to him and his seed. Now Christ has wrought a
covenant for us heathen who believe on him, and God will also be
the God of our children and even so will have the sacrament of the
rebirth, which baptism is for us, just as circumcision was in the old
(covenant), confessed in his church.
Jorg: I hold to the text: "Go forth and preach." Now faith comes
from hearing; the children can't hear, etc.
(Butzer) Asked if he believed that the children would be saved.
(Jorg) He had the text: "Let the children come unto me," etc.
(Matt. 19:14). With that he would let it be settled.
(Butzer) When he acknowledged that the children were saved and
yet said the children couldn't hear, he contradicted himself, for they
also use the word at the end of Mark, how the Lord said (Mark 16:
15-16): "Preach the gospel to all creatures, whoever believes and is
baptized, the same shall be saved." For there follows immediately:
"Whoever doesn't believe," namely who have heard the gospel, "he
will be damned"; because then the children don't hear, as Jorg says,
they must then be damned, where this ordinance of the Lord also
applies to the children . . .
Jorg: We find nothing in any apostolic act except that they have
acted first in repentance. The children have no understanding;
therefore they cannot repent.
Butzer: At the end of Mark, Christ established an ordinance, how
the adults should be dealt with. But the Lord saves our children also,
as Jorg himself acknowledges, and accordingly, as soon as the adults
give themselves to him he takes up their children also in his covenant
of grace. Like a prince, when he grants someone a patent of nobility,
he takes up also the children and all the succession with it. Genesis
17:7: "I will be God to thee and thy seed"; thereby he is also the
God of our children. For when the adults are accepted the children
are also accepted. We must regard the Bible as to what baptism and
I58 REFORMATION STUDIES
the covenant of the Lord may be. Now whoever would say there
shall be no woman at the sacrament because no woman was there
then when the Lord first held it, he would be doing wrong; yet one
couldn't display a single clear word by which the Lord declares it or
gives an example according to which women should also participate
in the holy sacrament. But since one understands the nature of the
sacrament, it is easy to see that this sacrament shall also be admin
istered to the women, for they also belong to the community of
Christ as believers. Thus God now calls the children to salvation and
will have the same publicly demonstrated as by the adults in the
sacrament of rebirth; and Christ certainly affords all the gift and the
evidence of grace which the adults have had; whoever then under
stands the manner of the sacrament will not exclude the children;
even if one could dispute whether the apostles baptized whole house
holds to the last detail and we had moreover no express command:
Baptize children!
Jorg: Since then the ordinance of the apostles isn't to be kept, bap
tize the children and let it stay that way, teach no repentance and
improvement.
Butzer: It was the ordinance of the apostles to baptize according
to the ordinance which Jorg cited, but the children according to the
ordinance of circumcision; and when the children are grown they
are to be catechized faithfully and taught to maintain everything
which the Lord has commanded.
Jorg: It is clearly written to circumcize the children, but not this.
(Butzer) [asked] if we should abandon what we have no express
command for, such as giving the sacrament to women.
Jorg answered: No; one would do wrong not to administer it to
them.
(Butzer) [asked] whether we did wrong to celebrate Sunday.
Jorg: No.
(Butzer) Then he shouldn't condemn the case of infant baptism
either, even if there is no clear command so that one had good basis
in Scriptures. The apostles proclaimed the services on the Sabbath
and sinned not even though there was a clear word against them:
"Thou shalt do no work on the Sabbath day." Thus Christ acknowl
edged the resurrection of the dead without an express word which
proclaimed the resurrection of the dead. When Christ enlarged his
covenant of grace with the heathen, how should we then exclude
the children? How do we surpass in that the Word of God, how do
we go beyond [the rule of] love?
Jorg: I will hold to that, where I'm certain that the apostles have
baptized the repentant, and let go where I'm uncertain.
Butzer: We'll show you our argument. At the end of Matthew
(28:18-20): "to me is given all power," etc. Thus "Go forth, and
make me disciples of all nations, baptize them and teach them to
observe." There we have sufficient command that we must accept
the children. If we are to accept the nations, then we must accept
them, as the people were added to the Israelites. How so? In this:
"He will be God to you and your children." Now I ask if the children
NEW LIGHT ON BUTZER S SIGNIFICANCE 1gg
don't belong to the people. Then follows after baptism: "Teach

them to observe all things their life long, what I have commanded
you." According to this interpretation the teaching comes after
baptism, although from it one can't tell what order the things fol
low each other as with some ordinance with a clear declaration. For
we have Mark 1:4-5: John came, baptized and confessed their sins,
and followed the preaching of John unto baptism; just as people
also confessed their sins first, before they were baptized. We have
the last of Matthew: "Make disciples of all nations," and therefore
we shouldn't exclude the children. "Let the children come unto me,
for they belong in my kingdom," in my church, and "whoever doesn't
accept the kingdom of God as the children," etc. (Luke 18:16-17).
And that is our foundation: As the Jews were accepted, so are we
and our children accepted in the sacrament of rebirth.
Jorg: The first reason, which is from the apostles, pleases me more
than yours; and even if it were the way it isn't and can't be proved,
there would still be much misuse of it with use of sponsors, eating,
and drinking.
(Butzer) Where is the commandment, where is the proof text, etc.?
Note: As to the misuse of sponsorship, Abraham also held a celebra
tion at the circumcision of his son. And in the Old Testament they
ate and drank on festival days. Sponsorship was used by the time
of Augustine and arose out of love. Specifically, as John was born the
neighbors came together; there, too, men have eaten and drunken.
But we condemn misuse.
(Jorg) His reason has been heard and he wanted to let it rest there;
and the Bible gives no better than this.
Butzer: This dispute stands to the judgment of God and of the
church.
On Civil Government (Von der Oberkeit)
(Butzer) Said that government had been challenged, that the Chris
tians should have no civil government. Repeated then the confession
which was given to the emperor at Augsburg.
(Jorg) Had nothing against it, for the Scripture instructs them that
he should be obedient to the government. But when the government
doesn't use the sword properly he will not obey it.
(Butzer) The subject is to be obedient to government in everything
where it isn't obvious that the subject would act against God if he
obeys. And where it isn't quite obvious, the subject is to obey the
higher conscience and not set himself to judge the government and
its commands. If, however, the subject knows that the government
will order him to perform a public wrong, then he should not obey
—like Saul's troops, when they were to murder the priests for they
knew that they were publicly innocent (I Sam. 22:17).
On the Humanity of Christ
(Butzer) Explained this article from various texts and concluded
that if Christ didn't acquire flesh from Mary, then he was no human,
and asked if Jorg also saw shortcomings in that.
l6o REFORMATION STUDIES
Jorg: I hold to the article of faith: He is conceived of the Holy

Ghost, born of Mary the virgin.
Butzer: Romans 1:3: "He is a son of David according to the flesh."
(Jorg) Held to the article of faith; what he hasn't understood God
will give him in good time. Could not deny that there was a basis [of
argument] there, in what Butzer said, but he couldn't speak much
against it.
(Butzer) Mary of the house of David was of child by the Holy
Ghost; thereby the Bible speaks of a son of David. Note: The Miin-
sterites have said: Christ received no flesh from Mary. Now Elizabeth
(Luke 1:42) said: "Blessed be the fruit of thy body"; that must be
understood according to the manner of Scripture, what fruit of the
body alone is meant; thus receiving from her body blood and flesh,
Christ became her natural son, yet the community of mankind was
added.
(Butzer) Asked if they had further reason to separate themselves
from us?
Absolution
(Jorg) His [list of] shortcomings have been heard in fact, but there
is a further deficiency, namely this: The following after was men
tioned only in the community of sin, among whom were many un
repentant, etc. Specifically: When wrong doers have denied life,
then they were promised die Kingdom of God and that they should
not die as a murderer according to the Scriptures.
Butzer: When one says: I repent of my sins then he is given abso
lution; but they can't see into his heart. And although everyone
should watch that he doesn't escape suffering due to murder and
robbery, etc., even if that is the situation with him, he should carry
his pain like the thief on the cross and seek grace of the Lord, which
he will certainly find, as the thief found it. And Butzer asked Jorg
if he had something further.
Jorg: No, but if Master Adam and others found shortcomings in
them, they should cite them.
(Butzer) The defect they found in them was that they separated
themselves from us without cause. For we do not want to set church
discipline aside, nor justify usury; we proclaim a repentant life; we
maintain the sacraments according to the meaning of Scripture and
according to the confession delivered at Augsburg. Prayed that they
and Jorg should let it be known if they would again join us in all
Christian matters.
Jorg answered they would think it over.
There followed the process with Leonhard of Maastricht. And the

same Leonhard said that as his brethren had answered to the articles,
in them he saw other deficiencies and will demonstrate it as simply as
possible and with evidence from the Bible. First he asked Mr. Butzer
from whence came his calling to preach according to the rule of
Christ.
(Butzer) Whoever can serve the church, he serves as best he is
/
NEW LIGHT ON BUTZER'S SIGNIFICANCE l6l
able. Now the church has called those here who can preach; and
Paul commanded Titus to occupy the city with capable people
(Titus 1:5). And even so are our preachers provided.
(Leonhard) But he hasn't thereby sufficient evidence as to who
sent them.
Butzer: No one can preach except he be sent, Romans 10:15. With
whatever one has one should serve the church.
Leonhard: When I see you come with such signs as Christ com
manded of them, namely that they should be born again, joined to
Christ with the death of sins, then I will believe in you.
Butzer: Him whom they may convict, that he isn't at one with
Christ, we will not allow to be a preacher.
Leonhard: Christ said, John 3:7, "Unless ye be born again," etc
Now I know none who has been resurrected in such a rebirth through
falling away of the first life; I find that they take the opposite posi
tion, do not gather with Christ but rather scatter.
(Butzer) He should demonstrate in what particular.
(Leonhard) His complaint has been heard, that they won't have
the abomination stopped and have become accomplices of the pope
through infant baptism; in this [practice] they have abandoned the
good in order to build up the abomination.
(Butzer) Infant baptism was given them by God's ordinance, by it
the children of God are accepted. Hezekiah, Isaiah, etc., and others
too renewed the covenant of God, but nevertheless did not circum-
cize the people again. In the Old Testament the covenant of the
Lord was renewed with the paschal lamb. And our preachers have
done the same with the Lord's Supper. And because they confess
the faith we must recognize them as Christians even though they
haven't renewed the baptism.
Leonhard: I feel that you don't have a living word for which God
sent his beloved son to us; you have a dead word, as evidenced by
your fellowship, else you would draw away from the evil.
Butzer: You complain because you aren't highly thought of.
Butzer asked Leonhard whether their elders had an act or a liv
ing word.
(Leonhard's answer) They have a living word that can bring the
people from evil to good and totally renew them.
Butzer: Would God that Munster and all of them had a living
word that could kill the old Adam in us all! Pour out your living
word on all of us here and all men, that we might be pious indeed.
And since now you can't do that and think nevertheless that you
have a living word, then permit the word of Christ, of the apostles
and that now preached, which is a word, a living word indeed,
whether they are immediately improved in a special way who are
called to life or not.
Leonhard: I find no one who has been converted from his previous
stained life. And thereby he cannot see that they have a living word.
(Butzer) That is no logical sequence. The word has been preached
for a long time; if there is no improvement there, then it is no word
of God. At the end of the 4th book of Kings (II Chron. 36:15): "I
have ever sent prophets and they worked among you." And when
he says he has not yet found one, etc., then he should reflect that he
should not judge; he has known without doubt many people, and
many have sealed their confession with their blood, and he could
not know what each does for good in another land. Therefore it is
very frivolous of him when he says that he hasn't found one.
Leonhard: As to the charge that I let fall a judgment that I
shouldn't. I say: What God's word judges, that we do not judge,
yet we use the word according to his command. Therefore when one
judges it is not a judicial sentence.
(Butzer) Asked if it is a good line of reasoning [to say] the people
are not converted by the word, therefore it is not God's word.
(Leonhard) He wished to hold to the clear evidence. Christ doesn't
let himself be found in the higher schools.
(Butzer) Said Leonhard won't give God the praise, that the line
of reasoning wasn't sound. Then he turned to the audience and
said, Christ did preach in the higher schools, for he was in the syna
gogues and preached to all creatures. But the little common folk
have come to hold it against the word—[an attitude] one finds among
princes and peasants and in other places; and they know within
them and not from the Word of God—that the specialists, from them
the teaching of Christ is hidden; to them, moreover, the lowest peo
ple are equal.
Leonhard: Christ says: "The tree is known by its fruit," Matthew
12:33-34. The mouth flows over with what the heart is full; that one
can then judge. Therefore they cannot establish that they are sent,
for they show no good fruit.
Butzer: How can such a logical line be sound: It is a bad tree for
I have seen no good fruit from it! What then if the tree were in
Calcutta and I am here and see no good fruit on the tree, does that
mean therefore it doesn't have any? He, Leonhard, has not seen
anyone. Therefore, he judges frivolously. He prayed that they should
judge what they see and not then act as though they were equal to
God. For it was for that that God cast the angels from heaven.
(Leonhard) They have heard from his brother that they wanted to
do that good which they recognize and acknowledge. But the preach
ers were the first to cite his brother before the government and have
claimed he was rebellious. He never read that of any apostles or
prophets, for God was a God of peace.
(Butzer) He should have held his judgment that no fruit appears
in our church, for he lied when he said that he had kept it a secret.
We grant: Whatever preacher persecutes a good man doesn't do
right. But now the Anabaptists are prosecuted not because they aren't
pious but because they cause the church great mischief and damage.
The one who damages his neighbor isn't pious; yet more impious is
he who would withdraw from him the doctrine of God and the sacra
ments, as you and yours do, which causes the people the most severe
damage, namely, in religion; these are the most impious of all, even
if they even drink no wine, eat no flesh, love all austerity, always
pray, and make use of everything that seems spiritual. This is also
NEW LIGHT ON BUTZER'S SIGNIFICANCE l6j
Satan's style and usage, that he introduces false religion with pre
tended austerity of life, as also happened with the false prophets
about whom Paul complained in Colossians 2:16 ff. This was also
evidenced by the Manichees and others who ravaged the holy religion
most severely. The preachers call no one unjustly to prosecution. But
they preach, as Paul taught them (Rom. 13:4), that the government
doesn't carry the sword for nothing, but brings fear to all who do
evil and therefore the greatest fear to those who do the most grievous
wrong, to damage holy religion. And if the Anabaptists suffer as
wrong doers, God will have no wrong so severely punished as blas
phemy. And they haven't yet given evidence that our church or
preachers are a bad tree. Christ drove the people out of the Temple
who damaged religion.
Leonhard: You must admit that from the beginning the pious have
never persecuted the impious.
Butzer: That I deny, for who drove Lucifer from heaven except
Piety in heaven. Note: Paul strongly drove the false apostles.
Leonhard asked: Did Paul persecute the others?
Butzer: Yes, and that with true Godly fervor, for the false apostles
persecuted them with a false, devilish fervor.
(Leonhard) Where did Jacob prosecute his brother Esau? But Cain
persecuted his brother Abel for the sake of the sacrifice and Esau,
Jacob. And so it is yet today, etc
Butzer: That the wicked persecute the good, we admit; but that
the pious also have driven the wicked, all Scripture shows. What did
Christ do in the Temple, what did Peter do with Ananias (Acts 5)?
On the Following Friday
Leonhard: Yesterday, I put questions, as you have heard. Now I
can't criticize your talk; and if they also are ready to apply it in
practice, then it pleases him indeed; but it isn't sufficient until they
set to work to build the Temple, for he and his cobelievers want to
help with it. And they have given proper cause to have separated
from us and they pray that patience may be shown them; let the light
shine and don't chop down the tree because it stands in blood.
(Butzer) One should understand how Christ, the apostles, and
prophets managed—at the beginning had enough to do in witness,
in love waited upon the work; if they weren't initiated, they treated
them according to the ordinance of Christ. Note: As Peter did the
first preaching he took into the church those who made public con
fession. Because they will take from us the practice and the doctrine,
they are indebted [for them]. He must also realize that the church
has many members; but the preacher should give diligent attention
to his office, heal what is hurt, strengthen what is weak. That some
are a bad sort among them mustn't be counted against the good
sheep. He says, the tree shouldn't be chopped down, etc. Said Butzer:
Our prince is of the intention that his people should not be dis
tracted and the Anabaptists not burned. But when he sees that the
word is despised and especially by them, the Anabaptists, it is his
duty to deal with it, and to see that the best is done with them that
they improve themselves. He must hold the church dearer than his
father, brother, and mother, 5th Book of Moses 13:7.
(Leonhard) When he was cited for punishment, in that he and his
brethren were represented as guilty, he said "No" to it; for he had
done his best to build the Temple of God and he wished to demon
strate it with his brethren. Since they now saw that ours were joined
to false doctrine and sins, they have best turned away from us. And
where we now recognize that, they wish to treat us well also as obe
dient children of God. They hoped, too, that no one had cause
from them to punish them as evil-doers. What they see bad in their
neighbor they would judge and defer to no one, according to the
Scripture (Matt. 10:32): "Whoever therefore shall confess me," etc.
Specifically, the Scripture is in all respects on their side. For Paul
says (II Cor. 6:17): One shall come out from among the evil ones.
But that they should show evil for good to us, that he wished not
to do and rather suffer for it what he should. Specifically, one cannot
belong simultaneously to the table of the Lord and of the devil.
And we should look about us as to where we stand in order that we
don't stand where we should not stand. We should leave the un
godly and follow the godly. If they had sensed that in us they would
have remained with us. And now their separation should not be mis
understood; hoped that the prince and the audience would reflect
that they have suffered with patience as welldoers and not as evil
doers, so that we might see what they have at heart.
(Butzer) Prayed that it would be taken for true what he brings up,
that evil must be abandoned, that one could not serve both the table
of Christ and of the devil. Now our elders lead in no other way than
this. The Bible is against the Anabaptists, for they are joined to
works, in the sense Paul said to the Galatians (1:8): Heresy. The
Christian doctrine which we confessed before the emperor we know
to be grounded in the divine word; and all the children of God owe
it to have fellowship with us in such doctrine, regardless if at the
same time some are found of evil life. And as long as the doctrine is
proclaimed and the sacrament is used, all men owe it to stay by us.
Now they have not only broken this same teaching but also defamed
it (he hoped however through lack of understanding) and thereby
many people pass away ruined into eternity. And if they had a faith
to remove mountains and to give their body to be burned, as Paul
announces in I Corinthians 13:2 ff., but have not love and throw us
out of the kingdom of Christ, they are without Christ and in the
worst wickedness. Galatians 6. There is the work of the flesh, not
alone the rough outer but also the spiritual inner factions and sects.
Now if they had fled all vice, all worldly gain, but each one taught
and kindly improved his neighbor and nearest and in the meantime
with the true believers kept the holy fellowship of doctrine, sacra
ments, prayer, and giving of alms, then they would have rightly fol
lowed the teaching of Christ and the apostles. But now, since they
have shattered the good because of the bad and fled the holy service
in his church, defamed it, and—among many of them—cast it down,
they have done nothing else but corrupt many souls inwardly, de
spised the word of Christ, thereby introduced among the common

herd a crazy godless life. What could they have undertaken that
would have been more disturbing and damaging to the Christian
church? No one may represent our confession to be unrighteous or
blasphemous. Now we still teach it (the confession) and maintain the
sacred rites and yet these people blame us as if all the horror of the
Antichrist ruled in all the doctrine and practices of our church. Be
sides we admit, too, that there are unfortunately all too few true
Christians; Paul commonly complained of that, too, in all his Epistles
about his churches. If one is overpowered by vice then those who
are spiritual should rebuild with the spirit of gentleness and each
bear the other's burden (Gal. 6:2). Now when I have done my [duty],
then I am excused before God and God will perhaps give his grace.
And we do not admit in your case either that you have suffered as
innocents, but as those who have the greatest guilt and have done
the worst things. Wishes to bring it to an end. You say you have
not found the work of the Spirit among us and therefore you have
justly separated from us. That we do not concede.
(Leonhard) Requested that he be given the confession which was
given to the emperor so that they might reflect for a day or two
upon it.
Butzer: That will be done.
Peter Losse said: Since the prince and lords have written them and
all their brethren who lay prisoners with them in Wolckstorff, as
soon as his brethren were at hand they would talk with them and
then give answers.
Hermann Bastian
Desired also to read the confession and would then give answer
about it; and said he wished to give his opinion, although he was un
prepared to speak before Mr. Butzer. First, he understood that our
prince and gentlemen were deeply concerned with this case and
therefore have had them sent here. Now the government well knew
how things remained. And said, since they had dealt with usury
and the ban, he had spoken with our gentlemen about them also in
Cassel. Now he had read in the Bible how church discipline (ban)
was to be held according to Scripture. That he should now say that
there was no Christian church among us because there is no ban, that
he couldn't say. But also the church couldn't be without discipline
and without faith.
(Butzer) It is true that when there is no discipline and ban there
also is no community; for there are two kinds of people, good and
bad, and the good must always unite in the fellowship of the Lord
and also improve the bad with daily doctrine and discipline. But
Christ himself preached a long time but had no properly ordered
ban. Now from that Hermann had sufficient evidence to conclude
that he should go to church with a good conscience and hear the
word of God. There are two fruits of expulsion, the one that he who
is expelled may become mortified and convert, and the other that he
not mislead the others.
(Hermann) Already a year ago it was said that the ban would be
introduced; but that hasn't happened. And the church can't be with
out the ban. He hasn't separated because of a bad will [toward us];
and cited the text I Corinthians 5:11 as to how the ban should be.
(Butzer) "Do not eat with such," etc. (I Cor. 5:11). Said that if we
shouldn't eat with them then indeed someone would die of hunger.
St. Paul meant to have eating understood as though one gladly and
deliberately had to do with prostitutes and rough sects. And now if
there are such people one should point them out to the pastor, if it
be obvious. He will rebuke them. If it isn't public then rebuke them
between thee and him, etc.
Hermann cited further I Thessalonians 3.
(Butzer) Paul spoke of those who cheat the people and don't work.
Now when one has fallen into vice, one should attempt in all man
ner of friendliness to bring him again to the right course. Just as in
a true friendship, when one has a boor among them, then one sends
—when the father, mother, brother, or another can't help—a cousin,
brother-in-law, or other friend to them, in order to bring the uncouth
one to the right course.
(Hermann) When Leonhard said we have no word, for it is dead,
brings forth no fruit, Mr. Butzer showed that honor should be di
rected to God. Christ, the apostles, and the prophets also preached
and were but little fruitful. By this he could judge that Mr. Butzer
was right. He wished to give honor to God. According to his under
standing it couldn't be justified that the unbelievers should be judged
by the sword.
(Butzer) God commanded in the Old Testament that the govern
ment should also punish adultery, etc, and remove blasphemy, as
Paul says in Romans 1:32. In the 5th Book of Moses 13:2 ff.: "If there
arise among you a prophet, thou shalt not hearken unto him, for
God tempts you to know whether you love him. That prophet shall
die," etc. Now to be sure we Gentiles (Heiden) are not bound by the
law of Moses. But if a government will act according to the ordi
nances of God, it will punish adultery more severely than theft,
the corruption of religion more severely than finite [matters].
Hermann cited the text (Eph. 4:5): "One faith, one baptism, one
God," etc., and said: We confess the same God as you."
Butzer: We confess all that you have read there. But some people
won't have one body and one baptism with us.
(Hermann) As [to the point] that the government shall punish
false faith. Now God says: Thou shalt love thine enemy, "The son
of man is not come to condemn."
Butzer: With that Christ forbade to the government unusual wrath
and extraordinary punishment, [punishment] which one can and
should exercise with love even to those he kills. When the govern
ment punishes a wrongdoer it does it out of love; thus a father,
when he punishes his child, doesn't hate it but shows fatherly love
for him. Butzer queried whether God had established a good order in
the 5th Book of Moses, 13th chapter.
(Hermann) Yes, all things according to God's ordinance. And in
this article Hermann is content with us, to punish the false teachers
with the sword. He considers that the right doctrine, for faith which
is active in love; for without works faith is dead. Said further, he has
been blamed because he was in the Anabaptist sect. Now St. Paul
was also blamed. But he has sought nothing else but the honor of
God and his neighbor.
(Butzer) Hermann belonged to a special sect which has damned
us; that was a bad, corrupt sect. If, however, he wants to hold to the
articles which we confess we will also hold to them. We baptize the
children according to God's ordinance; and when we baptize them,
then they share everything with us that we have. If he will believe
that with us, then we are one with him in the situation.
(Hermann) God wills it that his unity may come. But up to now he
had understood the last of Matthew: "to me is given all power," and
cited also the last of Mark: "Go into all the world, preach and bap
tize," etc. Now the teaching is first, thereafter faith, and then baptism
following; that this was originally said for adults, he conceded. Now
there is a text, where Stephen baptized, the word was preached to
them (I Cor. 1:16). And that the government has the articles and
we understand them rightly, that he will let stand. But then he stands
caught between two walls; for he can't yet comprehend that chil
dren are to be baptized and he can't yet comprehend that they
shouldn't be baptized, and he begged that they have patience with
him. He won't damn infant baptism nor teach against it, will take
the lead with his neighbor in the love that comes from the faith, go
with us to the preaching, take the supper of the Lord with us, pray
with us and give alms.
(Butzer) Asked if Christ hadn't given the grace to us which he pre
viously had given the Jews.
Hermann: Yes.
(Butzer) Whether he didn't now believe that the God of the former
children in the former covenant was truly God.
Hermann's answer: Yes.
(Butzer) Why shouldn't he then be also the God of our children?
Now we have in place of circumcision the rebirth, the baptism. At the
time of Cyprian there was an error, that the children shouldn't be
baptized before eight days. At that time the council concluded against
it, that baptism shouldn't be tied to any time; but there was no doubt
at that time that the children should be baptized; and Origen, who
wrote about the year that was counted 232 after Christ's birth, wrote
on the 6th chapter of Romans that the apostles decreed that the chil
dren be baptized.
After this debate Butzer had a private discussion with Hermann

on the next day (Nov. 2) and Hermann abandoned his doubts as to
Infant Baptism; also on Sunday (Nov. 3) Mr. Butzer stated publicly
in the preaching service that Hermann had rejoined our church
with request for forgiveness and that they pray God for him, etc.
Then Peter Losse was also permitted to speak. He then gave Mr.
Butzer such flippant and light-hearted answers that the audience
laughed loudly; and therefore, since he answered so contemptuously
and despicably, nothing special was discussed with him.'
Reason and Conversion
in the Thought of Melanchthon
Clyde L. Manschreck
What happens to man's reason when he is converted? This is a key

question for understanding Melanchthon's attitude toward reason in
the Christian life. Melanchthon emphasized science and philosophy in
such disciplines as education and law, yet denied that he was a "ra
tionalist"; he gave a place to human will in the process of conversion
and insisted that he was not a "synergist." Why? Was Melanchthon in
consistent, or was there a core of belief which resolved the apparent
incongruities?
In the early years of his association with Luther, Melanchthon dis
paraged philosophy and ridiculed reason as inferior to the "foolishness
of preaching." He called on Christians to abandon commentaries and
to look only to Scripture for inspiration; he declared that theologians
laboring under the "base hallucinations" of reason have handed to us
"the subtle pratings of Aristotle instead of the doctrine of Christ."1
Everywhere the Scriptures oppose rational judgment, he wrote, and
those who have tried to interpret Scripture so as to satisfy the judgment
of human reason have attributed to human powers more than is
proper.2 "The impious dogma of Free Will has been received and the
beneficence of Christ has been obscured by that profane and animal
wisdom of human reason."3 He pointed to Greek rationalism as "espe
cially pernicious," and said the fusion of Christian doctrine with
Platonic and Aristotelean philosophy had weakened the church.4
We must pray that God may transfer our minds from the judgment
of human reason and philosophy, to Spiritual judgment. For the
blindness of human reason is such that, without the light of the
Spirit, we cannot know the absolute nature of sin or righteousness.
The whole notion of human reason is darkness. The Spirit of Christ
is light, he alone teaches all truth.5
In Melanchthon's later writings, however, he praised man's rational
powers. "Humanistic learning is that wonderful gift of God . . .
noblest and most honorable of the pursuits of man ... a part of
REASON AND CONVERSION IN THE THOUGHT OF MELANCHTHON 169
God's image."6 He insisted that his students learn philosophy, law,

mathematics, and other rational disciplines, and cheerfully commended
the "righteousness of reason."7 Logic is essential if one is not to be a
blockhead,8 and there can be no progress without mathematics. "I often
wonder over the absurdity of certain people who fancy that what is
right and fair may be known without knowledge and learning."10 Ra
tional training is greatly needed if we are to avoid the disasters of
ignorance.11 Philosophy in particular contributes to rational judg
ments. "One can master skillful method only to the extent that he is
proficient in philosophy. . . . Almost everything comes forth from
natural philosophy as from a spring."12 Without the logical rules of
philosophy, man will join together things that should be separated,
and sunder things that should be joined, thus producing "unforeseen
mistaken ideas and endless violent rupture. ... It is necessary to bor
row many things from natural philosophy, and put with Christian
doctrine many things from moral philosophy."13
These and similar statements prompted many observers to say that
Melanchthon had departed from the Lutheran principle of justifica
tion by faith and had embraced alien principles.14 Some interpreters
have fostered the enigma of Melanchthon by choosing to ignore one
of these grouped statements and to expand the other as if it were the
essential core of Melanchthon's thought. Melanchthon often modified
his statements in an effort "to state things more clearly," but there re
mains a consistent core in his views despite these modifications. The
tirades against reason represent a defense of justification by faith and
are an attempt to salvage faith from the wreckage of work righteous
ness. Later statements praising reason represent a recognition of the
goodness of God's creation and the need of man to use reason in bring
ing about the good life. Melanchthon realized that man might misuse
his reason, but berating this faculty as evil per se is the same as be
rating the body or any other part of God's creation as evil. Melanch
thon saw justification by faith as the answer to the corruption of work
righteousness, and a redirection of reason, brought about by conversion,
as the answer to the notion that reason should be abandoned.
What happens to reason when a man is converted? Is there any es
sential difference between the reasoning of a Christian and of a
heathen? Could Isaiah or Paul have said anything more fitting about
God than did Plato in defining God as eternal intelligence and the
ground of all goodness in nature?
Then what distinction is there between our men and the heathen?
Between Plato and Paul? The Gospel makes the difference. Although
'
Plato knew that there was a God, that He was the ground for the
good in nature, he was still in doubt whether God cared for him.15
Melanchthon came gradually to realize that there is no difference
between the reasoning of the Christian and the heathen, for the
change that takes place in conversion is in the nature of a funda
mental presupposition or orientation. Conversion does not mean that
man is infused with facts and knowledge unavailable to other men,
nor does it mean that a secret power is given man so that he is more
alert than before. But the realization that God cares for man engenders
a trust in God with the dramatic consequence that man turns from
himself to God and neighbor. Melanchthon, therefore, condemned rea
son only in its self-centered pretense of effecting reconciliation with
God; he used it as a gift of God in education, politics, ethics, and
other pursuits of man. This view was outlined in the Loci of 1521, but
Melanchthon did not fully explore its implications until years later.
An understanding of Melanchthon's position requires a recognition
that for him the very heart of sin was self-centeredness. Melanchthon
was keenly aware that death forces man to admit his dependent status,
and yet this is the one thing that he is afraid to admit. Unable through
reason to go beyond death, unable through reason to assure himself
that death is not annihilation, man despairs, and turns to exploit for
himself the little time that he possesses. In effect he acts as if he were
the center of all things and as if there were no God. Overwhelmed by
death, man attempts to live to the fullest here and now. All of life be
comes self-centered. This is man's natural propensity which Melanch
thon called original sin. As a result of this, the soul "most ardently
loves itself, seeks its own desires and wishes nothing but carnal things
and despises God." 16 A creature who knows not the love of God,
loves itself in the highest degree . . . And so the first and chief affec
tion of human nature is self-love, by which it is drawn away to wish
for and desire only what seems to its nature good, sweet, pleasant and
glorious.17
The self, faced with "eternal death," seeks its own ends. Man in this
state cannot love God; he lives a lie, acting as if he were the center
of all things.18 "There are some who in outward appearance live right
honorable lives" but they are full of disguised, wretched affections,19
for this condition is deepseated and inscrutable.20 Human beings
marvel at the outer mask of virtue, but philosophers in general teach
nothing but reliance on self and self-love.21 This dungeon of self-love
makes mere shadows of such virtues as constancy in Socrates, chastity
in Zenocrates, and temperance in Zeno.22 "Since in all our works we
seek our own personal gains, our works are necessarily true sins."23 We
seek God thinking he will be useful to us, but in this we really love
self, and the specter of death looms in the background.24
This state prevails before justification by faith. Self-centeredness is
the presupposition of man, because he fears that all ends in death. The
miracle of conversion is that God's concern breaks forth on man's in
most being so that trust in God replaces fear of death. In the cross and
resurrection, God reveals his ultimate love by showing man that death
is not the final victor. Melanchthon knew that all men encounter death,
but he believed that death is under the dominion of a sovereign God
who cares for man. Like the language between two lovers which con
veys the message of love with a kind of "wisdom" that is neither ra
tional nor irrational, the language of the Bible conveys the message
of God's love. This is the "revelation," or conviction, or presupposi
tion, that comes to man in conversion. Convinced that the void of
death is not final, convinced by a wisdom beyond rational substantia
tion that he is in the hands of a God who unfailingly cares,25 man may
not think any more accurately about mathematics, and he may not
outwardly act any differently,26 but the motive for his actions changes
from self-aggrandizement to joyous and thankful acceptance of crea-
turehood under God who holds all things in his hands, even death.
Not love of self, but love of God and neighbor results.27 Man "would
be completely subdued," wrote Melanchthon, "if the heart [could] but
conceive the magnitude of God's goodness and the fulness of his
grace."28
Thus in conversion, man is given a trust, a confidence, that God is
ultimately benevolent toward him. This is the gift of the Holy Spirit
"who regenerates and sanctifies the heart."29 Man receives or accepts
this gift; he does not originate it. "Faith is the constant assent to every
word of God; a thing that cannot be done except the Holy Spirit of
God renews and illuminates our hearts."30 In this faith man relies, even
unto death, upon the divine mercy promised in Christ.31 This is a
presupposition beyond rational judgment;82 it is the "nonsense," "ab
surdity," "foolishness," and "wisdom of God" of which Paul spoke
(I Cor. 1). Man accepts and relies on the divine gift, he cannot offer it
to himself, but he can at any time say "no." Man continues, therefore,
to need the signs of baptism and Eucharist to establish continual con
fidence.33 All things come to pass according to divine purpose, for the
God who loves man is sovereign, the final Orderer,34 said Melanchthon,
but man is unable to convince himself of this rationally, and equally
unable to convince himself that death is not annihilation.85 Self-cen
teredness, sin, therefore, continues in man, for doubt always lingers

about the conquest of death.36
No special knowledge is given in conversion; if man could not
work a mathematical equation before conversion, then the trust that
Melanchthon speaks about would not enable him to solve it. The
ethical works that one does in this trust may remain just as imperfect
as before, but the motivating center from which they are done does
change, so that the ethical works done in trust, however imperfect,
are not glorifications of self but thankful responses to God for his
benevolence toward man.37 Incorrect though they may be, such acts
are not accounted sinful. When self is at the center, good works are
deceit and mendacity, for man serves only himself.38 But when man
has tasted the mercy of God, wrote Melanchthon, man seeks to serve
others.
The soul cannot but love God in return and be joyful, and express
its gratitude by some mutual kindness as it were for such great mercy.
. . . Therefore it imparts itself to all its neighbors and serves them,
placing itself at their disposal, considering their wants as its own,
doing all things with everyone candidly, sincerely, without self-
seeking and with no malice. Such is the efficacy of faith as it appears
from the works of those whose hearts are possessed by true faith.89
And this faith which motivates man to serve others is nothing more
than a sure reliance on God's ultimate love for us.40
Reason, therefore, is not to be abandoned. Man is to use all his
natural endowments in a love of God and neighbor. On this basis
Melanchthon developed his "rationalism." It was not a perverted
means of bypassing justification by faith in order to glorify man.
Though Melanchthon did not fully develop this position in the Lori
of 1521, he did indicate the direction. He accepted Paul's statement
that there is within us a natural law, or conscience, which God has
inscribed upon the soul of each man, adapted to form and shape
character.41 He said that natural reason is also endowed with cer
tain principles (such as, the whole is greater than its parts), and with
certain natural laws pertaining to the social life of man, which are
paralleled by divine laws in Scripture, and that man is to use these
to govern his life.42 Although man cannot truly love God without
the Spirit's revealing God's love,43 nevertheless, human laws are to
be honored, and papal laws are to be borne as one would injury or
tyranny,44 because reason, regardless of the inner motive of man, is a
part of God's created order.45 To the extent that reason can know
natural law, reason should order human life. Therefore, let man cul-
>
tivate all the products of reason in government, education, ethics,

and philosophy, but let him not think or pretend that a part of crea
tion, even the noblest, reason, is divine.46 The revelation of God's
benevolence does not add to man's factual store, but it turns about
the entire perspective and purpose of man. This was Melanchthon's
view, obscured by orthodox language but nevertheless present, in the
first systematic statement of Protestant theology.
As Melanchthon advanced in his theological thinking, the place of
reason in relation to salvation became clearer. In the Loci of 1521
his view of the relation of grace to the sinner was confused with the
relation of God to the creature; he expressed views on predestination
and affections that bordered on determinism. Later, as he reflected on
what happens in conversion, the notion that reason is unchanged but
redirected became clearer. Cochlaeus' attack on Melanchthon's views
in 1524 and Erasmus' De Libero Arbitrio of the same year helped
bring Melanchthon's thoughts into sharper focus.47 When Melanch
thon formally entered the Wittenberg theological faculty in 1526, he
determined to lecture on the Ethics of Aristotle, despite the fact that
he had unmercifully criticized Aristotle in 1521 as a gross falsifier.
After 1526 Melanchthon adopted the method and, to some extent, the
content of Aristotle and regarded him as the best introduction to
philosophy, with fewer errors and fancies than the other philoso
phers.48 Having reappraised the event of justification as it relates
to reason, he had concluded that rational philosophy could and
should, as a gift of God, serve the Christian expression of love. As
early as 1527, commenting on Colossians 1:15, he wrote: "We must
distinguish between the natural life and the relation of the human
will to that which is good before God."49 He maintained that the
will has a natural or essential freedom which man must use.50 "God
moves trees in one way, cattle in another way, men in another way;
on man he has bestowed reason. That power of choice he does not
remove, but imparts life and motion, while we choose and act. . . ."51
He had departed from the hint of metaphysical determinism.52 Me
lanchthon's emphasis on law in the Visitation Articles of 1528 further
showed this turn in his thinking. Still later, Melanchthon emphati
cally rejected the notion that "God snatches you by some violent rup
ture, so that you must believe whether you will or not."58 Melanch
thon called Luther's attention to the changes he had introduced,54
and Luther apparently did not object and continued to praise and
recommend Melanchthon's works.55
As a result of this pondering, Melanchthon's Apology of 1531, his
second monumental work in theology, made clearer the place of rea

son in the Christian life. Melanchthon did not modify the basic
doctrine, justification by faith alone, "lest any man should boast."56
Man can by nature have no true fear of God; by nature man is con
cerned always to promote himself.57 "God, therefore, is not loved until
we apprehend mercy by faith."58 Man, who in his self-centeredness acts
as a god unto himself, cannot in the final analysis be sovereign, for man
faces death, which begets in his despair from which he cannot escape.59
As long as this despair beclouds his mind, man's self-centeredness re
mains, no matter how clever the rational concealment may be.60
Only faith can free man from the despair of death and give con
solation to the heart.61 Through faith we "have a sure and firm con
solation against the terrors of sin, and against eternal death, and
against all the gates of hell."62 Faith is not idle talk. It means "a new
and spiritual life," it is "that which liberates from death and pro
duces a new life in hearts, and this is the work of the Holy Ghost .
As long as it is present, it produces good fruits."63 The faith that
comforts and justifies is more than a mere knowledge of history; it
is a new "reality."64
It is assent to the promise of God that in Christ remission of sins and
justification are freely offered. Faith is that my whole heart takes
to itself this treasure. It is not my doing, not my presenting or giving,
not my work or preparation, but that a heart comforts itself, and is
perfectly confident that God makes a present and a gift to us, and
not we to him, that he sheds upon us every treasure of grace in
Christ.65
Melanchthon is careful to note repeatedly that faith which justifies
is not ex opere operato, to be infused into an individual by some
mechanical taking of the sacraments.68 It is not a material sub
stance, nor is it some supernatural message or knowledge. It is simply
a conclusion "in the heart that God has forgiven my sins, and that
he is now gracious to me."87 Reason remains the same, but the heart
is comforted with confidence in the mercy promised for Christ's sake.68
Before man is thus comforted, a presupposition in which man falsely
regards himself as the center of the universe prevails; it "inheres by
nature in men's minds, neither can it be expelled unless we are di
vinely taught."69 This love of self blocks love of God and others.70
Man can do outward civil works but cannot truly love God, or even
expect aid from God in death, for he himself has displaced God.71 This
is the miracle: In the process of conversion, an abiding trust in the
love of God comes to prevail in man.
Melanchthon does not use the term "presupposition"; he speaks

rather of the inner and outer man and of something that happens
to the inner man which takes self-interest from man's acts, even
though outwardly the acts may not have changed.72 "Christian per
fection consists in dispositions of the heart."78 Human wisdom looks
only on the external; "we preach a foolishness of the Gospel," reveal
ing another righteousness. This is distinct from reason, "but we are
not ashamed of the foolishness of the Gospel."74
Melanchthon, therefore no longer disparaged reason per se. Christ
cannot be compared to Socrates and Zeno, said Melanchthon, as if to
say Christ brought a superior philisophical system which the reason
of man is expected to evaluate. He did notl He brought something
more fundamental—an assurance that death is not final, an assurance
which affects reason so as to turn it away from itself to God.75 The
church is a congregation of saints who so believe. The visible church
may also have wicked hypocrites, "but the Church is not only the
fellowship of outward objects and rites, as other governments, but
it is in principle a fellowship of faith and the Holy Ghost in hearts."""*
The distinguishing mark is an invisible, inward regeneration of the
Holy Ghost.77 The insights of philosophy are not without their lim
ited usefulness in promoting the welfare of man, for reason is a
natural endowment from God. Aristotle wrote learnedly on civil
life, Melanchthon declared, and to the righteousness of reason which
maintains civil discipline Melanchthon cheerfully assigned praises.78
In external matters, the "eloquence and virtue of reason are great
goods," but reason cannot justify us before God, or love God, be
cause without the Spirit reason seeks to promote itself.78 The first
table of the law demanding love of God is beyond reason without the
gift of the Spirit, but the second table, which pertains to civil right
eousness, reason understands and should keep for the sake of tran
quility and discipline.80
Because righteousness of the church is a "righteousness that binds
and quickens the heart,"81 outward rites and political ordinances
may vary with time and circumstances according to the dictates of
reason.82 Melanchthon, therefore, did not insist that Moses be fol
lowed; he maintained that Roman law has many advantages. As a
Christian uses air, light, food, and drink, so may he use reason. As
there are fixed movements in nature which are God's ordinances, so
lawful governments are truly God's ordinances.83
It is our greatest wish to maintain Church polity and the grades in
the Church, even though they have been made by human authority.
. . . With a grateful mind, we embrace the profitable and ancient

ordinances, especially since they contain a discipline.84
Errors and inconveniences are to be expected because human reason
is not infallible, and reason goes astray fundamentally when it imag
ines the end of these works to be justifying services.85 But for love's
sake many things can be observed so long as they do not give offense
to conscience.86 The spiritual and inward Kingdom of Christ "per
mits us outwardly to use legitimate political ordinances of every na
tion in which we live, just as it permits us to use medicine or the
art of building, or food, drink, and air."87
Julian the Apostate and Celsus charged that Christianity would
destroy the state and prohibit legal redress.88 Melanchthon answered,
The Gospel does not bring new laws concerning the civil state, but
commands that we obey present laws, whether they have been framed
by heathen or by others, and that in this obedience we should exer
cise love . . . The Gospel does not destroy the church, the family,
civil regulations, but much rather approves them, and bids us obey
them as a Divine Ordinance, not only on account of punishment but
also on account of conscience.89
Not to see that the Gospel brings righteousness to hearts and out
wardly approves various forms of government is a great mistake.90
Man has an innate endowment from God, a freedom, for the gov
erning of this life. "The human will has liberty in the choice of works
and things which reason comprehends by itself." Reason compre
hends obedience to parents and magistrates and also ways in which
to restrain the hands from murder, adultery, and theft. "Since there
is left in human nature reason and judgment concerning objects sub
jected to the senses, choice between these things, and the liberty and
power to render civil righteousness, are also left."91 This "righteous
ness" reason can render by itself, for civil righteousness is outward
discipline and subject to free will or reason. Spiritual righteousness
is inward and is due to the governing of the Holy Spirit.92 From this
one must not conclude that man is utterly passive in the reception of
the love of God. Faith is constant assent to the Word of God; man
relies upon divine mercy; he freely accepts the gift of God.93 In such
statements Melanchthon acknowledged, even in the early Loci and
the Apology, that there always remains in man an irreducable element
of free choice. "The remission of sins is alike and equal to all, just
as Christ is one, and is offered freely to all."94 Man, and man alone,
is responsible for saying "yes" or "no" to God, even though man is
powerless to initiate that to which he gives a yea or nay.
This basic orientation which centered in conversion is the clue to

the "changes," the "rationalism," the "synergism," that came into
the thought of Melanchthon. They were not really changes, but
rather keener apprehensions of the place of reason in the Christian
life. The endowment with which man regulates external life is also
that which responds to God's gift in conversion. The Catechism for
Youth of 1532 asserted that the promise of God is made to all and
is ours if we only believe, no matter what may be said about pre
destination.95 The Commentary on Romans in the same year placed
greater emphasis on man's acceptance of faith. "In conceiving faith
there is a struggle in us . . . and there is some cause in the accepter
in that he does not reject the promise extended." But Melanchthon
denied that this meant man is the author of salvation.68
Bugenhagen's notes on Melanchthon's lectures in 1533 show that
Melanchthon divided the mind into cognition (vis cognoscendi) and
affections (vis appentendi), but maintained that the will is able to
command and do an external work even contrary to the affections.97
In the section on the cause of evil and contingence, Melanchthon de
nied that God is the author of sin. If the cause of evil is in man or
the devil, there must be contingent events. But, if God controls and
governs the world, how can there be contingent events? Melanchthon
asserted that God's providence embraces both freedom and contin
gency, and spoke of it as a mystery beyond rational substantiation.98
In the 1535 Loci Melanchthon wrote that the will stands between
reason and the senses. The will thus is subject to their influences but
is nevertheless free to choose; God allows man to act, but sets ulti
mate limits, such as death. This is man's freedom. He is free to ac
cept, free to reject. The Word, Spirit, and Will must combine to fight
the "infirmity of man." "God enables us, calls, moves, assists; but we
have to see that we do not oppose."99 The Spirit of God does not act
dictatorially on a passive subject. In conversion, the very liberty
which man previously exercised in sin is employed to respond to
God.100 By 1535 Melanchthon clearly rejected extreme predestina
tion as inconsistent with religious experience and morality. The bibli
cal demand for repentance implies that the hearer does something.
The hearer does not initiate, or in any sense merit his salvation, but
he does at least choose to accept rather than reject the gift of God.
Not to admit this would be to render evangelical preaching mean
ingless and place responsibility for unethical behavior on God. Man
is in some sense an active agent in conversion; if not, he is a beast
or a stone without any free will or responsibility. Melanchthon said
God helps man as one would help an invalid into bed, not as one
would place a stone in a wall.
Three causes are conjoined: The Word, the Holy Spirit, and the Will
not wholly inactive, but resisting its own weakness. . . God draws
but draws him who is willing. . . The Will is not a statue, and that
spiritual emotion is not impressed upon it as though it were a
statue.101
In De Anima, 1540, Melanchthon commented on the attempt of

Potiphar's wife to seduce Joseph. If Joseph had yielded, he, not God,
would have been responsible.
The Son of God by his own light illumines the mind so that Joseph
knows the Eternal Father, and knows that he is and will be cared for
by him, and at the same time the Son by the Holy Spirit moves the
will and heart of Joseph, so that he wills to obey God, and he in
creases the fear of God, and the Will assisted assents to the Holy
Spirit, restrains the external members, and does not admit entice
ment. In this contest he perceives that the will is not inactive. There
fore, the Holy Spirit does not destroy the freedom of the Will, but
corrects it and turns it to God, according to the saying: He who
draws, draws him who is willing. The Will of Joseph might have
shaken off the Holy Spirit.102
Man is not a block or a stone. "Man can by using his will submit
to God in his Word."103 Melanchthon was striving to eliminate com
pulsion and vindicate the ethical character of conversion.
In the 1543 Loci, Melanchthon placed more emphasis on man's
ability to choose or reject grace. He asked: Why is Saul rejected and
David accepted by God? And he answered by saying that God's prom
ise is universal and that Saul and David were themselves responsible.104
The destiny of man depends on accepting or rejecting the available,
universal grace of God. This is not to place human will on a par with
divine will in conversion; it is a recognition of what really happens
in conversion. Melanchthon did not retreat from this position. In
the Confessio Saxonica, 1551, he declared, "In conversion the will
of man, when the Holy Spirit has been accepted, is not inactive."
Salvation is offered to all; the cause for rejection is in man.105 God
finally controls, because even death is under his sovereignty, but God
does not take away man's freedom. In conversion, man accepts the
offer of God's love; it is not forced upon him, for a gift ceases to be
a gift if the recipient is forced to take it. And man must keep on
making that decision. He cannot rest smugly in some certainty of
election or wrap a mantle of security about him saying, "once saved,
always saved." With his free will man applies himself to grace, hears
the promise, endeavors to assent, and casts off sins against conscience.
Since the promise is universal, and there are no contradictory wills
in God, the cause must be in man that Saul is cast away and David
is accepted. This, rightly understood, is true, and its benefit in the
exercise of faith, when the heart rests in the Son of God revealed
through the promise, will make clear this joining of causes: The Holy
Spirit, the Word of God, and the Will
Pharaoh and Saul were not coerced, but of their own wills opposed
God. . . . David was not converted as if he were a stone. . . . The free
will of David worked something when he heard the threats and the
promises. . . . The Gospel is the power of God to salvation to the
one not opposing, that is, to the one not despising the promises, but
consenting and believing.108
To Calvin, Melanchthon wrote that there is no secret will in God;

God's promises are universal. "The only cause for rejection is our
striving against God's Word."107 He did not know how this harmo
nized with predestination, but stoic, Manichean "deliria" he rejected
as a lie; the will is active in good and bad actions, for man is a re
sponsible being.108
Luther did not object to the "changes"; he continued to recommend
Melanchthon's works.109 Flacius Illyricus and Nicholas von Amsdorf,
two professional rivals of Melanchthon, did not criticize Melanch
thon's views as heretical until after the death of Luther.110 Why did
Luther not object? Did he believe Melanchthon was clarifying his
own contention that a forced will is no will, Noluntas?
The necessity of using reason for the more effective expression of
Christian love undergirded Melanchthon's outlook on education. He
advocated the study of grammar, languages, philosophy, logic, rhetoric,
classics, astronomy, mathematics, physics, and music because the love
which man expresses may be made more effective through these dis
ciplines of reason.111 Man is always imperfect and finite, and learn
ing cannot justify us before God, but man can be guided by the les
sons of the past and reason can bring benefits of law and order.112
Terence and Cicero, Aristotle and Plato, may be regarded as good
guides.118 Melanchthon believed that languages, philosophy, and other
classical arts should adorn and enrich the church. Ignorance harms
religion, creates contentions, and leads to a destruction of the social
order.114 Unenlightened theology was for him a great evil; it led to
contradiction, stalemate, and strife.115
Far from abandoning reason, Melanchthon praised learning as "the
l8o REFORMATION STUDIES
most beautiful gift of God."116 Without it men are left without the
natural guidance which God provided for this life.117 Used without
pretense, it can help purify theology and lend richness to the meta
phors of the Scriptures.118 "You must take up a school vocation in the
same spirit that you would take up the service of the Church, for in
the school one is also concerned with godly things."119 Reason is to
be used, but reason without the Holy Spirit is curved in upon itself
and cannot ultimately bring solace to man, for reason is a gift of
God; reason is not God himself.
Melanchthon could not tolerate the anti-rationalism of Carlstadt.
He opposed the radicals who pretended that some special message was
infused by the Spirit in the process of conversion just as much as he
opposed the Roman Catholics who maintained that something is in
fused through the material sacraments. In conversion, reason remains
the same, but an attitude of trust or confidence rules the heart, alter
ing man's motivation and making the goals of reason not self-aggran
dizement but expressions of joy and gratitude for what God has given.
Melanchthon, therefore, advocated all the disciplines of reason as
means of manifesting thanksgiving in service to others.
Melanchthon never argued that man's reason could settle ultimate
destiny, for man's reason was for him neither divine nor immortal, but
a part of creation like everything else, and no more entitled to sover
eign autonomy than any other part of creation. Reason is to be used
in gratitude like the other gifts of God for the worship of God and
service of man. Reason prepares for the widest possible expression
and communication of the converted man's love to others. Although
reason cannot know the absolute nature of things, nor can it trace
the works of creation back to their Source,
. . . nevertheless, even amid this our present darkness, every gleam
and every hint of the harmony of this fair creation forms a step to
ward the knowledge of God and toward virtue, whereby we ourselves
shall also learn to love and maintain order and moderation in all
our acts. Since it is evident that men are endowed by their Creator
with faculties fitted for the contemplation of nature, they must, of
necessity, take delight in investigating the elements, the laws, the
motions, and the qualities or forces of the various bodies by which
we are surrounded . . . The uncertainty which obtains with regard
to so much in nature should not deter us from our search; it is none
the less God's will that we trace out his footsteps in the creation . . .
Let us prepare ourselves for admission to that enduring and eternal
Academy where all the imperfections of our philosophy shall vanish
in the immediate presence of the Master-Builder, who there shall
Himself show us His own archetype of the world.120
The Strangers' "Model Churches"
in Sixteenth-Century England
Frederick A. Norwood
In a letter dated July 4, 1548, Archbishop Thomas Cranmer wrote

to Jan Laski (John a Lasco), noted reformer of Polish origin, as follows:
We are desirous of setting forth in our churches the true doctrine of
God, and have no wish to adapt it to all tastes or to deal in ambi
guities; but, laying aside all carnal considerations, to transmit to
posterity a true and explicit form of doctrine agreeable to the rule
of the sacred writings; so that there may not only be set forth among
all nations an illustrious testimony respecting our doctrine, delivered
by the grave authority of learned and godly men, but that all poster
ity may have a pattern to imitate.1
In pursuance of this desire he extended an invitation to the Polish
scholar to come to England as teacher and adviser. Laski accepted
with gratitude in view of the impending execution of the Imperial
Interim of Leipzig. In 1550 he was appointed superintendent of the
churches of foreigners in London under formal letters patent from
King Edward VI. The subject of this paper is the history of these
refugee churches, and the thesis is that, at least in the time of Ed
ward, they were intended to serve as models of the pure church of
apostolic times in comparison with which the church in England
might be reformed. Such we may believe was the intention so rudely
interrupted by the accession of Mary.
I
The invitation to Laski was part of an ambitious program headed
by the primate himself for bringing to England a number of Con
tinental scholars who would give aid and counsel in the work of
reformation. This was in turn part of an even larger project for the
unification of evangelical movements in an ecumenical fellowship
antedating by some centuries the World Council of Churches. Cran
mer was no man to dream small dreams. Invitations were sent to and
accepted by Peter Martyr and Bernardino Ochino, who had arrived
<*■"
already in 1547, to Jan Utenhove in 1548, and to Martin Bucer, Paul

Fagius, and Vaterand Poullain in 1549. These and "divers very learned
and godly foreigners," to quote John Strype, "forwarded religion not
a little."2
Of these visitors the key figure, so far as the foreign community was
concerned, was Laski.3 Although the exact degree of his influence over
Cranmer is uncertain, it was undoubtedly extensive. The two men be
came good friends.4 This was the man who assumed responsibility for
all of the refugee congregations in London, and who was largely in
strumental in building a model church on apostolic principles, one
purpose of which was the edification of Englishmen. He was one of
the foreign scholars who felt a spiritual kinship with the many less
well endowed brethren in exile who had fled their native lands nulla
alia quam religionis causa.5 These, together with a long established
commercial colony, largely Dutch and German, comprised a sizable
community. Prior to the arrival of Laski some of the Dutch refugees
had begun to meet together for worship in private houses, and the
French had started an organization. A small group of Italians needed
help. Into this situation stepped Laski. Through his efforts and the
influence of Cranmer with the Protector, the Duke of Somerset, young
King Edward granted as of July 24, 1550, a charter for the establish
ment of a "Church of the Germans and other foreigners in the city
of London."6 Already the former church of Augustine Friars had
been placed at the disposal of the refugees. Now Laski, convincing
the Protector "by arguments as well taken from charity as policy,"7
obtained the legal charter which, in effect, exempted the new group
of congregations from control by the English bishops.
II
This important document, almost unique in the annals of the six
teenth century, must be studied carefully if the reasons behind the
extraordinary grant are to be understood. Edward, in the introductory
paragraph, reminds himself of the obligation laid on Christian princes
to take care that "pure and undefiled religion may be spread through
out the whole body of the commonwealth and that a church founded
and brought to maturity in truly Christian and apostolic doctrines
and rites may be served by holy ministers."8 In pursuance of this obli
gation, therefore, but also on account of natural compassion for perse
cuted refugees, the king sets apart for their use a church in London
to be called the "Temple of the Lord Jesus,"
THE STRANGERS' "MODEL CHURCHES" l83
to the intent and purpose that there may be, by ministers of the
church of the Germans and of other foreigners, an incorrupt inter
pretation of the most Holy Gospel and ministration of the sacraments
according to the word of God and apostolic observance.9
That this purpose may be achieved he constitutes and incorporates
the superintendent and ministers of this church into a corpus cor
poration et politicum, with right of succession.
As to the rest, in order that no opposition be raised or obstruction
put in the way, the superintendent and ministers are granted the
full power of increasing their number and of nominating and elect
ing their successors. The original body is named to include Laski as
superintendent, with four ministers, two Dutch and two French.10
Any further nominations are to be submitted for approval to his maj
esty. And finally,
We order and, firmly enjoining, command as well the Mayor, Sheriffs
and Aldermen of our City of London, the Bishop of London and
his successors, with all our other Archbishops, Bishops, Judges, Offi
cers and Ministers whomsoever, that they permit the aforesaid super
intendent and ministers and their successors freely and quietly to
practise, enjoy, use and exercise their own rites and ceremonies and
their own peculiar ecclesiastical discipline, notwithstanding that they
do not conform with the rites and ceremonies used in our Kingdom,
without impeachment, disturbance or vexation of them or any of
them . . .11
An old portrait shows a ceremony in which the young king hands
the charter to Laski. In the background stand the Duke of Somerset
and Archbishop Cranmer, together with Latimer and Hooper. On the
other side are two other figures, perhaps Micronius and Delaenus,
the two ministers of the Dutch congregation.12 The former wrote to
Henry Bullinger that the king had granted the right to "have the
pure ministry of the word and sacraments, according to the apostolic
form."13 He rejoiced that the new church was exempted completely
from the jurisdiction of the bishops, and that the Archbishop had
been the chief supporter of the project, "to the great astonishment
of some." Utenhove, one of the elders, reported to Calvin that they
had obtained more than they had asked for.14 He gave the reformer
of Geneva a complete analysis of the new institution, and was ob
viously well pleased.
Before turning to the actual organization based on the Letters
Patent, it is well to inquire as to the motives for granting so unusual
an instrument of toleration in so intolerant an age. In the first place
may be listed the reason given by the King, that of compassion for
Christians suffering under persecution and exile. The second motive

was not spelled out in the charter because it concerned a more sensi
tive problem—that of heresy. Edward in his diary noted as of June
29: "It was appointed that the Germans should have the Austin Fri
ars for their church to have their services in, for avoiding all sects of
Anabaptists and such like."15 That this concern was, at least in six
teenth-century minds, well founded is attested by the later history of
the foreign churches in England. This concern would help explain
the willingness to give responsible organization to the community.
But it would not explain the willingness to exempt these congrega
tions from the control of the episcopacy. The amazing degree of au
tonomy cannot be justified either on grounds of sympathy for refu
gees under oppression or on grounds of protection against heresy.
Another factor must have entered into the thinking of the king and
his advisers, a factor that would justify the special status of the for
eigners' church, a situation certain to draw the ire and opposition of
the bishops, some of whom stood close to the throne and provided
much-needed support for the Tudor dynasty as it threaded its tortuous
way among the perils of power politics charged with religious tension.
This factor was spelled out explicitly by Laski himself in a work
prepared to describe the doctrine, order, and discipline of the Lon
don Dutch church but published in Frankfurt after the accession of
Mary.16 In his extended dedication to the king of Poland he explained
that the strangers' church had been established in London with com
plete autonomy in order that it might preach the pure Word of God
and administer the sacraments according to apostolic precedents.
"We thought in effect that, encouraged by this example, the English
churches themselves would be aroused to return to the apostolic wor
ship in all its purity."17 According to his testimony the plan was care
fully worked out. Since many English laws prevented immediate refor
mation and permitted some remnants of popery to survive (although
the King wished to correct this as soon as feasible), and since Laski
insisted particularly on new standards for the refugee churches, "it
was decided finally that public worship in the English churches should
be reformed gradually and only to the degree permitted by the laws."
On the other hand the strangers' church, less restrained by law and
custom, should be completely free to organize "in perfect conformity
with the apostolic doctrine and custom." The King himself became
the most ardent champion of the project, aided and abetted by the
Archbishop.18
Again we encounter the emphasis on reformation in terms of the
pure Word of God and apostolic precedent, both in preaching and
THE STRANGERS' "MODEL CHURCHES" 185
sacrament, unlimited by statute or ulterior ecclesiastical authority.

Such should be the happy condition of the strangers' church, unique
in the land. On the other hand the English church could, under the
circumstances, be reformed only gradually. It was beset with legal re
strictions difficult to remove; it lived under a firmly fixed system of
episcopal authority; it was sunk in deep and ancient tradition. Bucer
had already recognized the problem in a letter to the ministers of
Strasbourg, in which he said that changes would necessarily come
slowly, "lest the people, not having yet learned Christ, should be de
terred by too extensive innovations."19 Peter Martyr wrote to Bul-
linger, "All things cannot be done in a moment, and there must be
labour and time for this misshapen embryo to attain its proper sym
metry and shape."20
Even the refugees moved circumspectly in the area of church order
and liturgical reform, and avoided ostentatious parades advertising
their differences too blatantly. This may help to explain why the more
detailed specifications of order and worship used already in the Ed
wardian period appeared in print only later.21 Most of the regulations
of Laski's Forma ac Ratio were already in effect. But, because of the
uncertainty of life and particularly of religion in England, the exiles
must move slowly and carefully. They needed time. And who could
know how little time was left?
That too much should not be attempted too fast was made clear
from the early and persistent opposition from some of the bishops.
The key figure was Nicholas Ridley, Bishop of London, at this time
a reformer of cautious moderation, who felt a double responsibility
to maintain proper order in his diocese and control over the foreign
ers. At the very outset an intentional delay was encountered in the
repair of Austin Friars on the excuse that it must be made appropri
ate to the honor of the King, its donor. This was, as Van Schelven puts
it, the first kink in den kabel—kink in the cable.22 Micronius told
Bullinger that the obstacles, set up by the Lord Treasurer, had been
originated by the Bishop of London. In spite of the clear admonition
in the Letters Patent against interference, the foreigners were for long
prevented from free observance of the Lord's Supper.28 Another at
tempt at control came in 1552 in connection with a statute requir
ing regular attendance at the parish church by all Englishmen. When
some of the refugees were arrested under this law, Laski appealed di
rectly to the royal authority through Cecil.24 This resulted in an order
in Council directing the Bishop of London to find means of making
peace according to the provisions of the charter.
The existence of this opposition on the part of leaders who were
not desirous of full reformation indicates their awareness of the danger

occasioned by the presence, in the very heart of English life, of a model
church supposedly based on the pure gospel. This opposition may be
taken as circumstantial evidence further supporting the thesis that
the strangers' church was intended to influence the direction of the
English Reformation.
in
At any rate the project for a church in Austin Friars was rapidly
accomplished. Micronius began preaching in September, 1550. Four
elders were installed early in October and four deacons a few days
later. Soon the size of the general congregation was so large that pro
vision was made for separate worship by the French in the church
of St. Anthony's Hospital in Threadneedle Street, where they were
established permanently in the autumn of 1550.25 Little is known of
the Italian congregation, led by Michel Angelo Florio.26 As already
noted the two main congregations, Dutch and French, were served
by four ministers, two for each. By 1552 this ecclesiastical community
had become so prestigious that all aliens in London were required to
join this church by confession of faith before they could qualify for
any form of citizenship.27 The membership is uncertain at this time,
but it ran into the hundreds. Later, in the time of Elizabeth, it
reached two thousand.28
For three years, then, the church of the refugees was a going con
cern. It survived the opposition of the traditionalists and continued
to witness in favor of full reformation on apostolic precedents. From
the beginning the intention was that it should serve not only as a
means of worship for the foreigners residing in London but also as
a model of pure reformed faith showing the way for the slower process
of purification of the English church. As such it needed a clear defini
tion of the faith it held, a systematic organization, and a firm disci
pline. These Laski and his associated ministers proceeded to provide.
If this was indeed a "model" for the whole nation, the exact nature
of this miniature reformation takes on great significance. Its collapse
in the time of Mary becomes by the same taken a major catastrophe.
The main sources for study of the operation of the London Dutch
Church, and the French as well, are the writings of Micronius and
Laski, especially the latter. The actual archives for the years of Edward
have been lost. Micronius' treatise, which appeared in Emden in 1554,
is entitled, De Christlicke Ordinancien der Nederlandschen Ghemeyn-
ten Christi . . . te Londen.29 Its exact relation to the longer and more
famous Forma ac Ratio is difficult to determine. The author used

Laski's work in manuscript, and in many respects the works are par
allel. The one is best described as a short practical adaptation of the
other.
The works of Laski are available in a two-volume edition under
the title, Joannis a Lasco Opera tarn Edita quam Inedita.80 The first
volume contains dogmatic and polemic works as well as a full intro
duction in Latin. The second, more important for our study, contains
liturgical and creedal works. The major piece is entitled, Forma ac
Ratio tota Ecclesiastici Ministerij, in Peregrinorum, Potissimum verb
Germanorum Ecclesia Instituta Londini in Anglia . . . and was pub
lished in Frankfurt in 1555.31 The rest of the volume is devoted to a
lengthy confession of faith, catechisms, and letters.32 A French transla
tion of Forma ac Ratio, which this writer has not seen, appeared at
Emden in 1556 under the title, Toute la forme et maniere du min-
istere ecclesiastique en l'£glise des estrangers dressie a Londres en
Angleterre. . . .33
For doctrinal definition the most complete document is the Com
pendium Doctrinae de Vera unicaque Dei et Christi Ecclesia . . . pub
lished in London in 1551. A Dutch edition prepared by Utenhove
carries the title, Een kort Begrijp der Leeringhe van de warachtige
ende eenighe Ghemeynte Gods end Christi. In addition there are two
catechisms for the London church and another for that of Emden.
The London confession of faith is not a true creedal statement, al
though it was an official standard for all language groups in the church
and subscription was required of all members.34 It is rather a treatise
on the nature of the church, and thus begins with a full discussion of
the meaning of the word ecclesia. It is an apology for the kind of
church embodied in the strangers' community in London, which must
be the true church, a veritable model for all Christians.35 It is this
emphasis on the church that puts the London Confession in the center
of our theme. In the introduction, addressed to Edward VI, Laski ex
plains that this confession is presented in order that his majesty and
all men may know what the strangers' church truly stands for and
that calumiators may be answered.36 The church is then defined as
coetus eorum qui voce Dei ex universa toto orbe hominum multi-
tudine in populum illi peculiarem evocanturP It is a congregation
of those who are called out by the voice of God from the multitude
of men in all the world to be his peculiar people. There are four
marks by which this true church may be distinguished from all other
"churches." It is called forth by no human voice but solely by the
voice of God.38 This word has been given to men through angels,
prophets, and Christ himself. The Holy Spirit guides the people of
God through the word of the apostles and the evangelists. Hence,
And this will be that true Church of God, which is composed of
those called by the voice of God through the angels, the prophets,
and Christ the Lord, as the ruler of all the Fathers, and his Apostles,
into one congregation and his own peculiar people.89
This definition is reaffirmed, in association with elements from the
Apostles' Creed, further on.40 The church is that fellowship of men,
past, present, and future (coetus eorum hominum cum ipsorum sem-
ine—de vergaderinghe der menschen met haren zade), from our first
father Adam to the end of the world, who have been called or shall
be called from the world to testify and witness their faith in Christ.
Great emphasis is placed, in Calvinistic fashion, on Christ the head
of the church, as King, Prophet, and High Priest. That this reformed
church is not intended to be a new church, separated from other
churches, but rather one, catholic, apostolic, is made clear. Una est
igitur atque eadem semper Dei Ecclesia.41 False churches, however,
such as those of the Turks, the papacy, the Anabaptists, and the Da-
vidists, are no part of this true church. The unity of the church is
found in Christ her head. Christ is "the eternal and abiding King of
the people of God."42
This and other emphases illustrate the strong Calvinistic trend of
the thought of Laski. Although Zwinglian influences were also strong
among the refugees, especially through relations with Bullinger, both
Dutch and French congregations were deeply under the spell of the
Genevan reformer. The possible impact of this form of Calvinism in
England on the later development of Scottish and Independent thought
would be difficult to measure, in view of the more direct connection
through English refugees on the Continent. Laski, however, by no
means slavishly followed Calvin. He thought his doctrine of predestina
tion too strongly expressed.43
Curiously, there is nothing about the sacraments as such in the
London Confession. In 1552, however, Laski published in London a
Brevis et dilucida de Sacramentis Ecclesiae Christi Tractatio.*4 Here
the author rejoiced that the Calvinists and Zwinglians had come to a
consensus in 1549 according to which they found common ground for
the understanding of the sacraments. He rejoiced especially, no doubt,
because the Calvinist interpretation came out on top. There would
seem to be little original in Laski's own presentation, which follows
the common distinction between the outward sign and the inward
"mystery."45 The distinctiveness is not to be discerned so much in

doctrine as in the place, described below, given the Lord's Supper in
the church order of London. Laski was accused by both Strype and
Burnet of interfering in the controversy over the sacraments in the
English church—one of the services for which he had been called.46
The ordering of the church centered around the ministry. Laski
himself tells us in the Forma ac Ratio that his models were Geneva
and Strasbourg.47 Van Schelven suggests several other sources, includ
ing Zurich, Emden, Cologne, Poullain's liturgy, and the English state
church itself.48 But Laski probably knew best whence came his ideas.
Beyond these, however, stood the explicit affirmation that the real
source was the pure church of the apostles, the golden age of the
primitive church. There Laski professed to find two essential orders,
elders and deacons. The former, however, consisted of two kinds, min
isters of the Word and administrators of discipline.49 Differences at this
point from Bucer and Calvin are real but not radical. In theory all
the elders had the same responsibilities and shared the same ordina
tion. This marks a significant and characteristic emphasis in Laski,
who at this point approaches the doctrine of the essential ministry of
all Christians. In practice those set apart as ministers of the Word ad
ministered the sacraments and were assisted by the other elders. On
the other hand the lay elders carried special responsibility for the
maintenance of discipline. In the Forma ac Ratio he writes of four
types of ministry: ministerium verbi, sacramentarum, mensarum seu
eleemosynarum, usus ecclesiasticae disciplinae.60 In the Compendium
Doctrinae he had three offices: Verbi, gladii, mensarum.61 The duties
assigned the ministers of the Word and of the "Sword" (elders) differ
in emphasis rather than in character. The elders specially guard
discipline.52
On this basis a complete ministerial organization was raised. Four
ministers were elected, as named in the Letters Patent, and then four
elders, "according to the apostolic ordinance, to assist the minister,
not indeed in the ministry of the word, but in the conservation of
doctrine and morals in the church."53 After these were elected four
deacons. Over all was established, of course, Laski as superintendent.
There was really no place for such an office according to apostolic
precedent. His office was different in authority but not in ministerial
character.54 Once a week the ministers and elders of each congrega
tion met, and with them once a month the deacons. On the first Mon
day of each month was set the coetus, in which the officers of all three
congregations met together. This institution, which may be compared
lOO REFORMATION STUDIES
with a modern presbytery, continued in operation until the end of

the nineteenth century.55 The French church was probably organized
on a more thoroughly Calvinistic basis than the Dutch.58
One of the more interesting aspects was the mode of election for
church off1ce, alike of ministers, elders, and deacons. In this the Lon
don church differed from the practice followed either in Geneva or
Strasbourg, and was more democratic than either. Laski was aware
of the tradition of universal suffrage in the early church,57 but was
not prepared to go quite so far in his sixteenth-century fellowship.
After a period of fasting, communion, and two sermons, the members
of the congregation were invited to nominate, in writing, those whom
they considered worthy of election. From this list the officers elected
by voice vote persons to fill the various vacancies. A week was al
lowed for any objections to be brought forward. Then followed the
service of ordination, which included the examination of the candi
dates and the laying on of hands for all orders.58 This method of
election was unusually democratic for the times, in that the whole
congregation participated in the first act of nomination, and had in
the week-long waiting period a further check on any authoritarian
tendencies.
Under this form of church government the membership was care
fully controlled. Foreigners in London were not at all automatically
members. A specific act of commitment, either from infant baptism
and strict training or from confession of faith and examination, was
required of all. In addition to the linguistically distinguished congre
gations the members were divided into three geographical groups ac
cording to their place of residence in the city.
On Sunday morning at nine o'clock the faithful gathered for wor
ship, either at Austin Friars for the Dutch or Threadneedle Street
for the French. The order was carefully worked out on evangelical
principles.59 It began with a short prayer followed by the Lord's
Prayer. A Psalm was chanted without accompaniment. Then the
minister read out the text from the lectern. This was a high point,
tying together the services week after week, because the reading of
the Word followed a definite program of procedure through an en
tire book of the Bible, passage by passage, enough for exposition dur
ing an hour's sermon each week.60 The sermon followed, always in
exposition of the portion of Holy Writ falling to that particular Sun
day. After the sermon came a prayer that the Word preached might
bear the fruits of the Spirit, recitation of the Ten Commandments,
prayer of confession and absolution, the confession of faith in the
THE STRANGERS' "MODEL CHURCHES" lg1
form of the Apostles' Creed; and then a long prayer of intercession

for the King, his family, the city, magistrates, England, the refugee
churches, all churches, all kings and rulers not subject to Rome, the
persecuted, the sick and bereaved, ending with the Lord's Prayer.
This service reflects many elements common to Reformed worship,
as already practiced in Strasbourg and Geneva. One of the most dis
tinctive elements was the insistence on progressive exposition of the
Bible in consecutive passages, a practice early followed by Zwingli
in Zurich. Another point of emphasis was the rather extended wor
ship in prayer and recitation following the sermon.
The morning service was frequently followed by special observ
ances, such as baptisms, marriages, and the Lord's Supper. The lat
ter of course played a central part in the spiritual life of the com
munity. After the service of worship, when the table of the Lord had
been prepared, the faithful, who had been very carefully prepared in
the two weeks prior to the observance as part of the administration
of pastoral discipline, remained to hear a meditation on communion.
They were warned against unauthorized participation and engaged
in prayer. Then, as the ministers and elders sat on one side of the
table, the congregation gathered around the other three sides, all
seated. According to the words of St. Paul they were invited to share
the bread and wine. One of the ministers administered the elements,
breaking the bread and passing the cup. During this time another
minister read selected passages from the Gospel of John. This service
concluded with a prayer, a psalm, and a final admonition.
A second Sunday service in the afternoon was similar to the morn
ing worship, except for the omission of the portions after the sermon.
A main feature was a discussion of the Catechism, either Utenhove's
Dutch translation of Laski's, or the French of Geneva. Another serv
ice, belonging as much to the area of discipline as of worship, took
place on weekdays, the so-called prophecy, or collation, which is dis
cussed later. Jan Utenhove, elder of the Dutch church, prepared a
rhymed version of twenty-five Psalms, each to be sung in a dignified
musical setting without accompaniment.61 Although this work had
some influence on later Dutch Reformed worship, its place was pres
ently usurped by the fuller versions of Datheen, who set his Psalms
to tunes from Geneva.
From the earliest age, children were brought under the guidance
of the religious community. At about five they were taught the Small
Catechism, the Lord's Prayer, the Apostles' Creed, and the Ten Com
mandments.62 At eleven they began study of the Large Catechism,
which was a formidable document indeed. At fourteen, upon a Sun

day before their first communion, after a public examination of their
faith, they were received into membership. Recalcitrant young people
fell under excommunication if they reached eighteen or twenty with
out commitment. Adults were received into membership after a search
ing examination based on the Large Catechism. This emphasis on
confirmation of youth into membership upon confession of faith, al
ready in effect in the London church in the middle of the sixteenth
century, is a remarkable development in Reformed practice.
Such was the strict foundation on which were laid the provisions
for discipline of the community. This discipline was intended not
only for the punishment of sin but also for the remedy of weakness
and the strengthening of faith (non equidem in condemnationem, sed
in remedium potius infirmitatis nostrae onmium).6* It should apply
equally over the whole "body" of the Christian community and over
all its members, without exception. Lines of discipline in the church
are like nerves in the structure of the human body (quod sunt nervi
in compage ipsa corporis humani), an analogy reminiscent of Calvin
in the fourth book of the Institutes.64 Discipline was conceived not
as a series of narrow rules for conduct but rather as the complete con
trol of the whole life by the light of Christ. It does not consist, wrote
Laski, of control imposed from above by ecclesiastical power, but
rather in brotherly admonition by one's peers.65 Nevertheless, this
system would prove helpful in controlling heretical tendencies both
within and without the strangers' church.66
The procedure was similar to that of Calvin for Geneva, except
that great care was taken not to exclude anyone until every effort
had been made to reclaim him. The elements of patience and mercy
are of central importance for the disciplinary system of Laski, who
in this respect improved on Bucer's Gemeinschaften in Strasbourg.67
Private and public warnings would precede charges, and throughout
opportunity would be given to mend. If the sinner proved repentant,
he appeared before the congregation on Sunday after service, when
the members prayed for his forgiveness, he confessed and asked par
don, and finally was readmitted by the Consistory. This service would
conclude with the kiss of peace and a psalm of joy. Unrepentant sin
ners, after two public notices, were excommunicated, but then only
by the assembly of all the ministers of both churches and after op
portunity for final objections. If nothing availed, then, with the whole
congregation on their knees, the sentence of excommunication was
read. This was a purely spiritual act, and included no suggestion of
a ban or of social ostracism.
A regular method of checking on the condition of individuals was

offered by the celebration of the Lord's Supper. No one was allowed
at the table of the Lord who had not proved his faith.68 Two weeks
before the event, at a service of preparation, solemn announcement
was made of the conditions for admission. During the ensuing
days the membership list was made up anew—each time. New mem
bers were received after examination, and delinquents were visited in
their homes. No name went on the list without the consent of the
elders. Those to be excluded from the table were specifically named
on the eve of the great day. In this way the regular celebration of the
Supper ensured the regular purging of the membership.
But discipline was applied to all alike, including the superintend
ent. One of the most interesting features of church life was the weekly
"prophecy," an institution deriving from precedents in Zurich but
not in Geneva, where Calvin would have nothing to do with it. The
Dutch met one day, the French another. The purpose was to
strengthen the faith of the members by answering questions raised
by the sermons, to challenge the ministers to defend their messages,
and to provide all an exercise in Bible study.69 In order that all might
be done decently and in good order (ut omnia ordine ac decenter ci-
traque ullam confusionem gerentur—compare I Corinthians 14:40),
the elders were appointed to receive the questions in advance and
choose those for discussion which would be most edifying.70 In this
way the members could have their doubts and misunderstandings
cleared up, the ministers could be held to the Word of God in the
Bible, and Christian discipline could be maintained and advanced. In
some of these discussions English citizens participated.71 In the French
congregation the discussions took on more the aspect of Bible study
groups.
And finally, to complete the circle of discipline, every three months,
at the Censures, in each of the congregations, individual members were
permitted to bring forward any complaint, provided they could fur
nish two witnesses, against any minister, elder, or deacon. Only the
superintendent was in this case exempt from inquisition. The demo
cratic influence of these practices in terms of lay participation in
theological interpretation and pastoral guidance can scarcely be ex
aggerated. They were also, and for the same reason, fraught with cer
tain perils as the door was opened to extremists, heretics, and malcon
tents. That this was no idle peril is proved by the later history of the
Dutch church in the time of Elizabeth, when the community was torn
by controversies involving some leading ministers.
IV
This, then, was the kind of church that was intended to serve as a
model for the English to follow in gradual reformation. For three
years this young sapling flourished and began to spread living branches
in English life. Did winter come too soon? The accession of Mary
brought the whole experiment to an abrupt halt. When the refugee
church was re-established under Elizabeth, the Letters Patent of Ed
ward were not confirmed, although the community was granted the
use of Austin Friars and most of the old privileges were recognized de
facto—with one notable exception: The superintendent was hence
forth the Bishop of London. There is not much suggestive of a "model
church" in this later period. Refugees were more concerned about
maintenance of their minimal rights than about spreading the image
of the true church.
Did the model church of Edward's time last long enough to bear
influence? The evidence suggests that it did. Certainly the London
Dutch Church made great contributions to the development of the
Reformed Church in the Netherlands.72 And the French church shared
in the building of the Reformed Church of France. But these rela
tions go beyond the scope of this paper. In England one cannot dis
tinguish between the influence of individual refugees like Laski and
that of the church as a community. On the other hand men like Bucer
and Peter Martyr pursued independent courses not directly related
to the foreign community and occasionally in opposition. Laski's sig
nificance is crucial. Micronius, writing to Bullinger in 1551, said,
Master a Lasco, our superintendent, a man (to speak it in one word)
almost divine, is not only of the greatest use to the foreigners'
churches, but also to the English, by teaching, exhorting, counselling,
and writing.73
Although Albert Pollard was of the opinion that the influence of for
eigners in general was less than that of Englishmen who had had con
tact with the Continental movements (like Hooper),74 he specifically
defended the influence of Laski over Cranmer, especially in the mat
ter of the real presence.75 Cecil also had a high regard for the Polish
reformer. Strype in many passages illustrates the influence of both
Laski and his refugee church.76 His work on the Lord's Supper, dedi
cated to Edward VI in 1552, was intended to enlighten the English.
In his preface to the King he compared the work of reformation to
the rescue of an erring daughter from prostitution. For one must
remember
»95
that it is not enough for them, thus to have brought this daughter
out of the Papist stews home, into their own care and keeping, un
less they also put off from her all that dressing which they know to
be whorish in the stews. That no such thing may be seen with them,
which may be accounted whorish; especially in that city where there
is a great variety of judgments; and overruling whereof by man's
authority is not to be expected, and where there are so many hucks
ters for the stews remaining.77
Undoubtedly Laski, along with Peter Martyr, took an active part
in the work of the Royal Commission for the revision of the canon
law, the results of whose efforts bore fruit in print only later in the
time of Elizabeth.78 If this publication did not itself play a large part,
the men who worked on it had ample opportunity to share ideas. The
connection of Laski with the revision of the Book of Common Prayer
is less clear; but the general opinion is that at least indirectly his in
fluence was felt.79
The most exciting episode that reveals the involvement of Laski
with the English church is the vestarian conflict raised by the conse
cration of Hooper as Bishop of Gloucester. It seems that the Pole was
the only notable foreigner to side openly with Hooper, as against the
willingness of Bucer and Martyr to temporize.80 To him the vestments
sunt pulchra et ornamenta tyrannidis Antichristi. Bucer believed they
were bad, but that foreigners should not interfere. Hooper throughout
was most friendly to the Dutch church, and sometimes spent many
hours in discussions with his friends in that church.
This association with Hooper suggests a line of influence reaching
from the foreigners' churches down to the more decisive Puritan
Reformation in England in the seventeenth century. Clear definition
of this connection goes beyond the scope of this paper; but it seems
to have some validity. The problem would be to distinguish between
direct and indirect relations.
It would seem, then, in conclusion, that from their very inception
the strangers' churches were planned to serve as models of the pure
church of Christ fashioned in the image of the apostolic church, which,
established in the midst of the Anglican environment, would be ob
served by English Christians less favored with freedom. Gradually, as
opportunity and the laws permitted, the English church itself would
be reformed after this model. A good start was made in the fulfillment
of the plan, aided by two of the most influential figures of the realm,
the young King and the Archbishop of Canterbury. No wonder that
Calvin, observing this great experiment from his fastness in Geneva,
addressed Edward VI as a latter day Josiah who sought piously to
196 reformation stud1es
root out all the superstitions in the New Jerusalem. He expressed ap
preciation for the grant of the generous charter to the refugees. Like
Josiah of old the new Josiah should
aim at the mark which is set before you in the example of this holy
king, so that it may be testified of you that you have not only de
stroyed impieties which were repugnant to the honour and service of
God, but also that you have abolished and rased to the foundations
everything that tends only to the nourishment of superstition.81
What a pity that, in this new version of scriptural history, Josiah was
followed by Jezebel!
ESSAYS ON THE LEFT WING OF THE REFORMATION
Sectarianism and Skepticism:
The Strange Allies of Religious Liberty
Waldo Beach
From the very beginning of his scholarly career, a major preoccu

pation of Roland Bainton has been with the history of religious lib
erty.1 With sustained passion and assiduous care he has unearthed
for Western scholarship the tangled roots of the flower of freedom of
conscience, deep in the soil of continental and English history of the
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. With his instinctive feel for the
crucial and the dramatic, his research and writing have served to en
lighten for the contemporary Christian the perennial issues involved
in the dialectic between religious truth and civil peace. He has made
it plain that religious liberty is a precarious good, never to be as
sumed or guaranteed, but freshly championed. Nor is it the goal to
wards which church history itself moves, as the liberal historians who
are children of the Enlightenment might see it, where the grand
movement of history is from medieval authoritarian dogma and prej
udice to irenic reason and domestic tranquillity.2 Bainton has per
ceived, more wisely, how ambiguous are the goods of history and
morally mixed are the ways of men. In his "Reflections" which close
The Travail of Religious Liberty, he notes how "when one problem
is solved, another will undoubtedly replace it," and that "every solu
tion, however wise and necessary, carries within itself the possibility
of some new abuse,"8 so that religious liberty becomes both an ac
complishment and a perennial problem. He remarks in this connec
tion that "the most serious problem is as to the certitude of truth
in the field of religion."4
His reflection prompts the exploration of the present essay: to show
how the question of epistemology, the uncertainty or certainty of
religious knowledge, is at the heart of the case for religious freedom.
The thesis is here advanced that in the history of religious freedom
there is a curious perennial alliance of groups radically opposite in
their view of religious truth, who yet make common cause for re
ligious liberty: on the one hand, the sectarian mind, which rests its
case for freedom of conscience on certainty, and the skeptical mind,
which rests its case on uncertainty. It is this odd conspiracy of sec
tarian dogmatism and rationalistic skepticism which can be shown, at
crucial points in modern Western history, to have championed the
cause of conscience against the confinement or persecution of church
and state.
This is not to say, of course, that the question of certitude is the
only ground or source of religious liberty. In the dense interconnec
tion of historical causation, many cultural and ideological factors
are certainly present, which Bainton has often pointed out.
For one, religious toleration is the product of the gradual domesti
cation of the view of man's destiny. When salvation in the life beyond
was the assumed goal of the human pilgrimage, and extra ecclesiam
nulla salus, persecution for the eternal good of souls was not at all
strange. When men's eyes were turned from heaven to earth, civil
peace and the economic blessings of mutual forbearance of opposing
consciences were extolled. The economic argument for religious lib
erty, incidentally, emerges strongly in the latter part of the seventeenth
century in England, in the writings of William Penn, Robert Barclay,
Henry Robinson, and John Locke, though it appears also in the six
teenth century.5 There is some truth in Voltaire's wry comment that
the source of religious freedom lay in the fact that men ceased to
speculate about free grace and began to speculate on the price of
grain.
Another obvious factor influencing any writer's position on the
question of persecution or tolerance is the political one, i.e., where
he stands in the church-state power structure. There have been many
who while in a minority status have claimed freedom of conscience
for their own group, but who on religious grounds have denied that
freedom when they were in a position of majority control. The Puri
tans, persecuted in England, became the persecutors in New England.
But the shift of terrain and status does not represent a shift of logic:
freedom of right conscience, not any conscience, is the constant norm
in both instances. So the political question of power is interlocked
with the doctrinal question of truth.
Still another factor influencing the course of religious liberty is the
theory of the nature of the church. Troeltsch's familiar distinction
between the church-type church, as coterminous with a geographical
locale or parish and spiritually inclusive in some sense of all in the
community, living in memory of and hope for a single corpus Chris
SECTARIANISM AND SKEPTICISM 201
tianum, and the sect-type church, gathered out of the community by

distinctive convictions, provides a useful clue in explaining differing
responses to the question of religious liberty. The evidence quickly
controverts any claim that the church-type church is per se conducive
to persecution, the sect-type to freedom, for friends and foes of lib
erty of conscience appear in church and in sect. But there is some
ground for maintaining that the case for religious liberty among
churchmen is a genial latitudinarian concession which grants privi
leges for dissenters as long as they do no harm to the body politic,
whereas among sectarians it is a right claimed out of a rigid and ex
clusive view of the church as a community called out of the world to
doctrinal and moral purity6 By temperament, latitudinarians would
prefer peace to truth, if the choice must be made; sectarians, truth to
peace.
No one of these factors, economic, political, ecclesiastical, can itself
"explain" religious liberty. Each one is linked with the ideological
issue of religious truth. In all of these relationships the same two op
posite schools of thought of fanatics and skeptics make their appear
ance, made strange bedfellows by the misery of persecution. Several
studies in particular chapters of religious history have pointed to this
meeting of opposites.7 The present essay attempts to deal with four
of them.
n
In the sixteenth-century Continental Reformation, the alliance of
the skeptic and sectarian minds in defense of religious liberty is fairly
elusive because of the limited character of the liberty proposed, in an
age where the assumed premise of European culture was Christian
dogma. The contemporary view that religious liberty includes the
right of irreligion as much as religion would have been completely
abhorrent. The vast majority of Protestant and Catholic leadership
alike contended for the protection of Christian truth by the sword
of the magistrate, and for the privileges of right conscience only. Even
the few champions of liberty, like Erasmus and Castellio, drew limits
to freedom; against atheists and blasphemous heretics Erasmus ac
knowledged the right of the state to use the sword,8 and Castellio al
lowed that if Servetus had declared God to be a devil, he would have
supported his punishment.9
Yet the rare minority voices raised in protest against religious per
secution rested their case either on the skeptical ground of the uncer
tainty of truth or on the sectarian ground of the absolute inwardness,
SOS REFORMATION STUDIES
certainty, and inviolability of conscience. In some instances, curiously,

the opposing motifs are found in a single thinker.
Erasmus of Rotterdam represents fairly clearly the tolerance of ra
tionalistic skepticism, and the spirit of the Renaissance.10 His stance in
an age of bitter controversy was that of the charitable and irenic paci
fist, the intellectual who could always see the other side of the argu
ment.11 His preference for civil peace over religious truth, where these
are at odds, roots from his ethical zeal for "the philosophy of Christ"
rather than doctrinal niceties. Heresy he defined in moral rather than
theological terms; Anabaptists should be excluded for their civil se
dition, not their doctrinal error.12 "The sum of our religion is peace
and unanimity and these can scarcely stand unless we define as little
as possible and in many things leave each one free to follow his own
judgment."18
To instance the sectarian case for liberty of conscience in the six
teenth century one might look best to a mystic like David Joris, though
others like Menno Simons embody comparable themes. Joris does not
fit any nice category: "mystic," "sectarian," "spiritualist," "Schwarmer"
are all proper if carefully defined, but classification is not important.
The significant thing to note here is how opposite from an Erasmus
he stands: fiery, intense, passionate, with the ardor of a zealot and the
dogmatic assurance of a visionary.
Bainton is quite correct in noting his "mystical" base for the claim
for religious liberty.14 The argument is not from the uncertainty of
religious truth which should allow latitude for error and the tares to
remain with the wheat, but rather from the nature of faith itself.
The authority of the Spirit is final, transcending any external creed
or church, "the faith of Jesus Christ is in no word spoken with the
tongue, but in the eternal, true, pure, and divine work and spiritual
nature of God against all flesh and is intelligible only to him who
has received it."15 The possession of the Spirit is the one thing need
ful. With typical sectarian assurance, he affirms that the churches of
Christendom, in their contentions over dogma and their persecution
of dissenters, lack the spirit, and are not true churches. "They do not
have the true faith and love, but a bad spirit."16 The true church is
in the persecuted sect, or—as with Joris himself—in the persecuted
prophet.
Joris is not the philosopher dealing with the epistemological prob
lems of truth and error, reason and faith, authority and doubt, that
lie behind the question of religious liberty. But the philosophic posi
tion implicit in his writing appears to be that which claims freedom
for right conscience by virtue of the assurance itself, inward, invio

lable, incontrovertible, to which he and his followers alone, in these
latter days, give authentic witness in their suffering.
In his case for religious liberty, Sebastian Castellio represents a
sophisticated and complex mixture of motifs.17 If anything, he il
lustrates the confluence of the rationalistic and sectarian principles,
the former preponderant, in a manner remarkably prophetic of the
briefs of later centuries for the rights of conscience. He is still, to be
sure, of the sixteenth century in his assumption of essential Christian
dogma prevailing in Christendom; it is for the variety of Christian
consciences that he pleads freedom, not just any conscience. Yet the
philosophic problem of religious knowledge at the heart of religious
liberty he addresses himself to directly, in the treatise "concerning
Doubt and Belief, Ignorance and Knowledge."18
His stance, in this polemical tract, is that of a rationalist, who pro
tests authoritarian fideism,19 who acknowledges the inevitable uncer
tainties of mortal knowledge and the illusions of sense experience,
like the stick which in water appears broken.20 He knows well the
controls of passion over reason, and the ways in which judgment is
beclouded by "self-love and carnal affection of the mind by which
each looks to his own rights and does not consider the others."21 Pre
sumably, only by a transcendence of emotion and self-interest can the
mind's sight be cleared and objective knowledge be restored. Such a
position Bainton rightly calls rationalism, but not skepticism.22 Cas
tellio distinguishes between indubitable doctrines essential to salva
tion and nonessentials over which men debate; it is the latter in which
suspended judgment is needed for religious peace, since no one really
knows for sure.
The "sectarian" motifs in Castellio are not as readily apparent as
the rationalist, and are subordinate. He does not have the sectarian's
passionate conviction for his particular truth, exclusive of all others.
But he does share with the sectarian spirit the stress on the inward
ness of religious faith, which makes it untouchable by any external
constraint, and the inviolability of conscience, even when it is in
error. The respect due the integrity of conscience, right or wrong, is
an argument dear to the sectarian plea in the seventeenth century.
Castellio, writing in the sixteenth, appears ahead of season.
m
Seventeenth-century England is the century and locale of the great
debate on the terms of religious liberty. In the turbulent stretch of
years between the end of the reign of Elizabeth and the Restoration
of 1688, beneath the power-conflicts, the church-state problem turned
on the question of how to reconcile the common peace of England
with plural persuasions of Christian truth. It took the polemical skill
of the best minds of England, and a civil war as well, to find the
answer.
The many religious groups involved in this debate range them
selves roughly along a spectrum from right to left, from "church" to
"sect": (1) the small Roman Catholic party, a feared and hated minor
ity, (2) the Anglican party, by far the dominant majority, (3) the Pres
byterian Puritan group, (4) the Congregationalists, or Independents,
some separatists, some nonseparatists, (5) the Baptists and Quakers,
and (6) the plethora of tiny sect groups, such as Seekers and Diggers.
These positions are not always clearly delineated, and individual
thinkers sometimes move back and forth along the line, as, for ex
ample, Roger Williams, who moves from Anglican through several
stages to Seeker, while some thinkers like Milton and Locke combine
ideas from left and right.
Out of this great variety of religious groups, the two groups most
vocal and influential in bringing about the spirit of religious liberty
embodied in the Edict of Toleration were the Anglican latitudinar-
ians on the right and the radical sectarians on the left. Making com
mon cause from frequently opposite sides, these two groups illustrate
well our thesis that behind freedom of conscience is a curious com
pound of certitude and incertitude, of faith and doubt.23
It is difficult to single out from among the many "men of latitude"
in the seventeenth century a single representative who exactly typifies
the logic. William Chillingworth, Jeremy Taylor, John Hales, and the
Cambridge Platonists stand for a tolerance based on Christian theo
logical grounds and commitment, while the more secular or "lay" lati-
tudinarians, like Francis Bacon, Lord Herbert of Cherbury, or Thomas
Browne stand on more skeptical premises. But clerical or lay, they
share certain fundamental premises about the way to unite religious
truth and civil peace, premises quite opposite to those of sectarianism.
For one thing, they are heirs of the Renaissance and Erasmus in
their trust in Reason as an ultimate authority, in whose court all re
ligious controversy can be arbitrated and passions abated. For an
other, they accept a pluralism of religious interpretations, within a
common subscription to fundamentals, as suitable for the life of a
broad inclusive church. The way of salvation is open to pilgrims
of many garbs and persuasions. "For my desire," says Chillingworth,
"is to go the right way to eternal happiness. But whether this way lie
on the right hand, or the left, or straight forward; whether it be by
following a living guide, or by seeking my direction in a book, or by
hearkening to the secret whisper of some private spirit, to me it is
indifferent."24
The theoretical ground for such charity of differences within the
church is an uncertainty about proximate and relative truths. All see
through a glass darkly. As Thomas Browne wrote, "Every man is not
a proper Champion for Truth, nor fit to take up the Gauntlet in the
cause of Verity: many, from the ignorance of these Maxims, and an
inconsiderate Zeal unto Truth, have too rashly charged the troops
of Error, and remained as trophies unto the enemies of Truth."25
Jeremy Taylor's Liberty of Prophesying (1647), a classic statement of
the latitudinarian position, rests much of its argument on the folly of
a factious spirit, which insists on its own way in the midst of plural
convictions. Certain essentials are fixed, to be sure. But the dissen
sions that arise over adiaphora can be dispelled by mutual forbear
ance and a gentle diffidence. "If men would not call all opinions
by the name of religion, and superstructures by the name of funda
mental articles, and all fancies by the glorious appellation of faith,"26
peace might prevail.
Clearly such a position betokens a kind of philosophic detachment,
and a charity toward differences, which mark suspended judgment. At
the same time, and paradoxically, it is clear that the latitudinarians
have no love for sectarians such as the Quakers, whose "enthusiasm"
and arrogant exclusivism are more likely to arise from feverish imagi
nation and self-will than from the spirit of God.
The sectarian case for religious liberty, on the other side, is the ex
tension of the Calvinistic-Puritan zeal for a particular religious truth,
whose freedom should enjoy the protection of the state. One of the
most striking features of the sectarian tracts on liberty of conscience27
is their exclusivistic theory of religious truth, or what might be called
epistemological intolerance. According to J. W. Allen, the plea of the
proletariat sectarians for protection for consciences was in reality a
plea for their own rights, based on intransigent conviction, not a
recognition that consciences other than their own might be correct.28
Political expediency rather than religious charity lay behind their
polemic. One must not push this conclusion too far. It needs to be
qualified, especially in the instance of the Quakers of the Restora
tion period. But at least it remains true of such fugitive tractarians as
Leonard Busher, Henry Jacob, and Samuel Richardson. Busher, for
r^
example, contends that a "reason why so many good people are now
deceived is because we that have most truth are most persecuted, and
therefore most poor. Whereby we are unable to write and print, as we
would, against the adversaries of truth."29
The sectarian's positive ground, then, for withholding the magis
trate's sword is the inviolability of conscience, the separation of the
temporal and spiritual jurisdictions, and the folly and cruelty of
persecution.
Now for a brief look at the more famous champions of freedom
in this period: Milton, Williams, and Locke, whose theories of reli
gious liberty have been thoroughly explicated at other places,30 and
whose positions represent a sophisticated and profound combination
and synthesis of ideas drawn from both sectarian and latitudinarian
sources.
In Milton the Calvinistic heritage and the Renaissance are con
joined. The Puritan revolutionary and the secular humanist both speak
in his eloquence.31 The epistemological significance of the Areopagi-
tica lies in Milton's trust in the power of truth to emerge "in free and
open encounter" with error. It is not through the licensing and sup
pression of error, but through permissive freedom, that truth will
out. Here is the rationalist's trust in an order of reason to make its
way, at least with reasonable Englishmen, against superstition and
folly, combined with the sectarian's first principle of the sacredness
of conscience.
Both in temperament and theory, Roger Williams is more the sec
tarian than the rationalist, though his movement to the left along
the spectrum makes any category for him unsuitable. For the most
part, however, as his debate with John Cotton illustrates, his argu
ment rests on the separation of temporal and spiritual spheres, and
the inviolability of conscience even in error from political control. "It
is the will and command of God that ... a permission of the most
Paganish, Jewish, Turkish, or Antichristian consciences and worships
be granted to all men."82 Note, however, that this is not because all
of these consciences are equally correct or equally uncertain, or equally
plausible roads to salvation, but because only by spiritual means can
men be converted to the right way. Conviction for Christian truth,
not indifference, guided all his seeking.
John Locke, on the other hand, represents a synthesis where the
latitudinarian spirit predominates. Locke is thoroughly the rationalist
Christian, a precursor of the deism of the eighteenth century. As Bain-
ton points out, he and Castellio were the "only two men in the course
of the struggle for religious liberty [who] have written treatises alike
on the problem of liberty and the problem of knowledge."33 His Rea
sonableness of Christianity is a tract calling for the sufficiency for sal
vation of religious beliefs plain to the simple and untutored.
Locke's Letters on Toleration are a summation of the standard ar
guments for religious freedom. The sectarian threads are: (1) a volun
tary theory of the nature of the church, as a gathered society of be
lievers "joined together in order to the public worshipping of God, in
such a manner as they judge acceptable to Him, and effectual to the
salvation of their souls,"34 (2) the distinct separation of civil and spir
itual spheres, and (3) the sacredness of private conscience from political
jurisdiction. The latitudinarian elements are evident in his trust in
the finality of reason against all "enthusiasms" of the extreme sectar
ian,85 in his attempt to reduce Christianity to its simple essentials, and
in his incipient skepticism concerning the accessibility of truth, based
on his recognition of the relativity of judgments. "Mankind is so di
vided that he acts according to reason and sound judgment in Augs
burg who would be judged to do the quite contrary at Edinburgh."86
His skepticism is only incipient, however; essential Christian truths
stand as the foundation of his tolerance. It is significant that he would
not extend toleration to Roman Catholics, on political grounds, or to
atheists, on the religious ground that God is the basis of moral com
munity. "The taking away of God, though but even in thought, dis
solves all."37 He champions, then, freedom for Christian consciences,
not any conscience; in this regard he belongs more to the medieval and
Reformation than to the modern period.
IV
It is only a short way to our third instance of the alliance of skep
ticism and sectarianism, across the Atlantic to the General Assembly
of Virginia and its "Bill for Establishing Religious Freedom." The
actors in this drama again represent opposite persuasions, though they
are not as far apart as in the earlier epochs.
The text of the Bill for Establishing Religious Freedom, enacting
"that no man shall be compelled to frequent or support any religious
worship, place or ministry whatsoever . . . but that all men shall be
free to profess, and by argument to maintain, their opinions in mat
ters of religion,"38 authored by Thomas Jefferson, could elicit the sup
port of sectarians whose theology was very different from his own.
Much has been written on Jefferson's "theology" and on whether
he is to be classified as Theist, Deist, Unitarian, Christian, or atheist.

The consensus, as A. P. Stokes notes, points toward a rationalistic the
ism, with many of the latitudinarian and Lockean elements we have
noted above.39 Jefferson believed himself a devout Christian, in the
liberal tradition of returning to the simple moral principles of the
teachings of Jesus. He follows Locke, and shares with the sectarians,
a strict separation of the spiritual and civil spheres, inner conviction
and outer action. Yet he belongs essentially in the Erasmian line of
rationalism. He is impatient with the particular doctrinal wrangles of
sectarian groups, and sees no relation between doctrinal commitment
and the jurisdiction of the state. "The legitimate powers of govern
ment extend to such acts only as are injurious to others. But it does
me no injury for my neighbor to say there are twenty gods, or no
God."40 This divorce of theological conviction from moral and there
fore political jurisdiction indicates how much further even than Locke
he has moved from Calvinism toward the modern secular mind.
He is the rationalist, too, rather than the fideist or "enthusiast," in
his glad acceptance of religious differences and the plural roads to
truth. Nothing is to be feared from the differences of religious sects
enjoying the equal protection of the laws of the state, since "truth is
great and will prevail if left to herself." It is not plural faiths that
have caused the prolonged misery of persecution but "the impious
presumption of legislators and rulers, civil as well as ecclesiastical,
who, being themselves but fallible and uninspired men, have assumed
dominion over the faith of others, setting up their own opinions and
modes of thinking as the only true and infallible and as such en
deavoring to impose them on others."41 The epistemology implicit
here is the recognition of the uncertainty and relativity of all finite
grasps of religious truth.
The correspondence of Jefferson, especially his famous letter to the
Danbury Baptists, indicates the extent of his cordial goodwill to those
with whom he found little in common religiously and who castigated
him for his impiety. He feared the sectarians, however, for their crude
arrogance and their dogmatic zeal, and fought their intrusions in
public policy. His plan for the University of Virginia illustrates his
position. He anticipated a chair of ethics and religion, and planned a
special room in the rotunda "for religious worship." But denomina
tional schools he would keep at the edge of the campus, independent
of the university. At the same time he hoped that by having liberal
Christianity on campus and the sects just off campus, "by bringing the
sects together, we shall soften their asperities, liberalize and neutralize
SECTARIANISM AND SKEPTICISM SOQ,
their prejudices, and make the general religion a religion of peace,

reason, and morality."42
The Baptists in Virginia, largely of the religious proletariat, having
suffered much abuse and discrimination from the established Angli
cans, were among the first in that colony to petition for religious lib
erty. Their case, as of yore, was made not on the ground of the un
certainty of religious truths but on the simple claim to the right of
religious conscience, if peaceable, to remain unmolested by the state.
Their repeated petitions to the Assembly, protesting establishment,
ring with phrases familiar in sectarian history: "that the gospel wants
not the feeble arm of man for its support; that it has made, and will
again, through divine power, make, its way against all opposition,"43
and that the two spheres of spiritual and temporal are radically differ
ent in purpose and should be carefully discrete in jurisdiction. "New
Testament Churches, we humbly conceive, are, or should be, estab
lished by the Legislature of Heaven, and not earthly power; by the
law of God and not the Law of the State; by the acts of the Apostles,
and not by the Acts of an Assembly."44
There is no theory of religious knowledge articulated in the Baptist
tracts of the times, but it is safe to surmise that ardor for their own
religious persuasion, rather than uncertainty as to the truth-claims of
the churches of the times, prompted their appeals. Jefferson's deism
would seem as heretical to a Baptist preacher as to the Presbyterian
and Anglican divines who railed against the unbeliever in the Presi
dency. But as Jefferson himself noted in writing to the Danbury
Baptists, he and they could make common cause in the belief "that
religion is a matter which lies solely between man and his God, that he
owes account to none other for his faith or his worship, that the legis
lative powers of government reach actions only."45 Belief and skepti
cism thus joined from opposite sides in building "a wall of separation
between Church and State,"46 into the American tradition.
In mid-twentieth century, the dynamics of history have altered the

character of the church-state problem in America sharply. Since the
era of Jefferson, when a Christian nation protected itself against any
nationally established church but assumed the "free exercise" of re
ligion in American life, the "wall" of separation has now become a
firmly established symbol in the American consciousness, so much so
that even Roman Catholic political candidates pledge allegiance to
the principle of separation of church and state. Freedom of religion

itself, construed as a prohibition against any interference of govern
ment into church life, or vice versa, has become itself a kind of absolute,
rather than a means to the end of the infusion into public life, through
plural forms, of religious norms and values, such as was the ideal in
earlier centuries. In the mind of the contemporary American, freedom
of religion means that irreligion should have the same political rights
as the various forms of religion. "Each in his own way, or not at all."
The secularization of the state may prove the too-heavy price paid for
the absolutization of religious liberty itself.47
The most recent development is well illustrated in the reappearance
of the alliance of skepticism and sectarianism in the POAU (Protestant
and Other Americans United for Separation of Church and State).
Among its stated objectives are:
(1) to enlighten and mobilize public opinion in support of religious
liberty as this monumental principle of democracy has been embodied
in the Constitution by the separation of church and state;
(2) to resist every attempt by law or the administration of law fur
ther to widen the breach in the wall of separation of church and state.48
We are here concerned only to point out how, by the ironic logic of
history, such an alliance as the POAU, so apparently single-minded in
its objective of guarding the wall of separation (especially against
Roman Catholic "breaches"), is in reality double-minded in its pre
mises, a mixture not only of opposites but of contradictory ultimate
loyalties. The "Others" in the POAU are now the secular humanists,
in whom the Erasmian tradition has been extended out to an arrogant
or wistful humanism.49 The "Protestants" are likely to be those of the
evangelical sectarian tradition, especially Baptists, who view the threat
of Rome as so sinister that they find themselves in the odd position of
fighting to keep Christian instruction out of public education,50 and—
if they be Southern Baptists—committing the political heresy of voting
Republican to keep a Catholic out of the White House. In the political
realm, the direction of sectarian zeal seems to have turned from the
positive goal of the spreading of the gospel to the protection of freedom
of religion read now in the negative sense.
VI
When one looks back synoptically over the development of four cen
turies here sketched, it is possible to discern a general family resem-
^
blance, shared on the one hand by sectarians from Joris to a Southern

Baptist, and by rationalists and skeptics, from Castellio and Erasmus
to a Mrs. McCollum or Paul Blanshard. At the same time, it is possible
to detect certain crucial drifts of thought over these centuries which
make the issue of religious liberty different in character in twentieth-
century America from what it was in the Continental Reformation.
The most marked drift is from a religiously based theory of freedom
of worship, claiming or allowing a variety of Christian consciences to
worship God in whatever way seemed true, to a secular theory of re
ligious freedom, which allows any conscience, Christian or atheist,
equal protection of the laws. To the liberal this trend may constitute
progress, but to the Christian there are serious moral ambiguities.
There may be clear gain in the achievement of a humane and secular
state of mind which no longer countenances the persecution of any
citizen for his religious faith or lack of it. Yet if indeed Christian faith ^J.
and piety are in some sense necessary to the health of the body '<.",
politic, then a secular tolerance of indifference which recognizes no
greater worth to faith than unfaith may prove to have conceded too
much from the cause of truth to the cause of peace, and betrayed
true liberty of conscience. As a matter of fact, if one may for the
moment use the term "religion" in its deeper sense as "commit
ment to the ultimate," then it becomes impossible for any state to
remain religiously neutral or faithless. In public education, for
example, an arrogant secularism may and often does discriminate
against if not directly persecute a Christian conscience, the new persecu
tion being no less vicious for being psychological rather than physical
in its exercise of power.
In sum, the long story of the travail of religious liberty prompts the
sober reflection that our culture may in a misplaced ardor for freedom
itself, have shifted to a freedom from religion which imperils freedom
for religion. Perhaps what is needed is a recovery of the ardor of the
Christian sectarian tempered with the caution and humility of a Chris
tian skeptic, who at least is of a mind in grounding religious liberty in
an objective order of God's truth.
Augsburg and the Early Anabaptists
Paul J. Schwab
The city of Augsburg proudly traces its founding to Caesar Augustus,

after whom it is named. During the Middle Ages it became an episcopal
seat and by 1276 an imperial city. Augsburg's location encouraged
growth in wealth and culture which resulted in its being called "Pearl
of the German Renaissance."
With the coming of the Reformation, Augsburg's readiness to accept
new ideas prepared its people to welcome the new teachings, for in
hardly any other city did the Lutheran doctrines receive so ready a
hearing. Despite the aid of Bavaria and the Swabian League, both
staunchly Catholic, the Bishop of Augsburg was unable to prevent the
domination of the city by the Lutherans under the leadership of
Conrad Peutinger, outstanding lawyer and humanist, and Pastor Urban
Rhegius, a onetime monk. By 1525 this Catholic-Lutheran rivalry was
further complicated by the coming of strong Zwinglian influences un
der Michael Keller. In fact, by the beginning of 1527 Augsburg had
become a Zwinglian city although Catholic and Lutheran services were
permitted.
However, the three-way struggle was to become still more confused,
for with the first approach of Anabaptism in 1525 and its growth dur
ing the next years, the problems of the city multiplied. Closely asso
ciated with this new movement in Augsburg were such men as Ludwig
Hatzer, Balthasar Hubmaier, Hans Denck, and Hans Hut, none of
whom was a citizen or even longtime resident of the city, but they had
one thing in common—the loss of their lives within a very short period
because of their religious work. A representative product of their labors
was a prominent citizen convert, Eitelhans Langenmantel. The over
throw of their new structure took but a pathetically few months. An ac
count of these personalities and developments depicts largely the course
of Anabaptism not only in Augsburg but also in several other cities and
districts.
Although Ludwig Hatzer was never an acknowledged Anabaptist
and never accepted adult baptism, yet he should be considered one of
AUGSBURG AND THE EARLY ANABAPTISTS 21g
the early forerunners of the movement in Augsburg. He was born

about 1500 near St. Gall, Switzerland, and by 1520 or 1521 was con
secrated a priest near Zurich. By 1523, however, he went into Zurich
and became an active supporter of Zwingli. But at the same time his
associations with such men as Conrad Grebel and Felix Manz show
that he was coming under the influence of Anabaptist teachings. In
June 1524 he was sent to Augsburg to oversee the publication of some
Zwinglian writings and there first won the friendship of the leading
Lutheran pastor, Urban Rhegius. He also maintained fellowship with
some Anabaptist friends there. In October of that year he returned to
Zurich and, interestingly enough, spoke against Zwingli's views on
infant baptism.
The spring and summer of 1525 found Hatzer in Augsburg again
working for the publisher, Otmar. He participated with Protestant-
minded workers in small discussion groups called conventicles. During
the struggle over the Supper he spoke against the Lutheran as well as
Zwinglian doctrines and thus estranged Rhegius.1 When the latter
challenged him to a disputation, Hatzer failed to appear and was
thereupon expelled from the city. "Hatzer did not advocate Anabaptist
teachings in Augsburg, even though the later Anabaptist congregation
here had its origin in these conventicles."2 In November 1525 he be
came reconciled with Zwingli for a period, but soon he was traveling
to Basel, Baden, Strasbourg, Worms, and other cities of Germany. He
returned to Augsburg in August 1527 in time to attend the "Martyr
Synod," but he did not participate in it.8 Leaving Augsburg before the
Rat started its arrests, Hatzer performed his only known baptisms,
these being in Regensburg in October 1527.4 There is reason to believe
he lived in Augsburg from November 1527 to April 1528. In November
1528 he was arrested in Constance, tried on a charge of immoral con
duct, and beheaded on February 4, 1529, at the site of Hus' burning.
Although Hatzer was not a baptized member, he is counted among the
martyrs of historical Anabaptism. Goeters suggests that he might be
considered a "marginal Anabaptist," a spiritualist who in his latter
years sought refuge in that fellowship because he was in disagreement
with the regular ecclesiastical parties.5
Although Anabaptism in some form was present in Augsburg in
1525 during Hatzer's stay there, historical Anabaptism came into the
city in the spring of 1526 with the arrival of Balthasar Hubmaier, and
the rivalry of the three leading religious groups made conditions most
favorable for the growth of the new movement.6 Hubmaier was born
about 1480 in Friedberg, a few miles east of Augsburg. He received his
baccalaureate degree and his ordination in 1510, later the degree of
Doctor of Theology from the University of Ingolstadt where he also
taught. After some preaching experience in the Cathedral of Regens-
burg, Hiibmaier was installed as priest in Waldshut, Switzerland, in
1522. By the summer of that year he began to assume a Lutheran posi
tion, then gradually moved toward Zwinglianism, carrying his people
with him. In 1524 he completed the reform of religion in Waldshut,
still adhering to Zwingli's views; but the next year found him holding
an Anabaptist theological position, and he received its baptism near
Easter 1525.7
Escaping from Waldshut during an Austrian attack in December
1525, Hiibmaier fled to Zurich where with a troubled conscience he
recanted his Anabaptist views. He left the city secretly and made his
way to Constance, then to Augsburg where he arrived in April 1526.
There he associated with zealous Anabaptists and about May 1 bap
tized Hans Denck and others.8 However, he did not remain long, for
in July he was in Nickolsburg, Moravia, then went into Austria by way
of Ingolstadt and Regensburg.9 The date of Hiibmaier's arrest by
order of Ferdinand I is not known, but by January 3, 1528, he and his
wife were prisoners in Kreuzenstein. Later they were taken to Vienna
where Hiibmaier was racked, and when this torture did not produce
recantation he was sentenced and burned at the stake on March 10,
1528. A few days later his wife, with a stone tied to her neck, was
thrown from the large bridge over the Danube.10
Hiibmaier's leadership in Augsburg was followed by that of Hans
Denck who really gave to Augsburg's Anabaptism its identifying
stamp.11 Born about 1500 in Heybach, Upper Bavaria, Denck like
Hiibmaier attended the University of Ingolstadt. The autumn of 1519
found him among the humanists of Augsburg writing at least eight
booklets against Luther; but by the end of 1522 he was a Lutheran.
Kiwiet believes that Denck was won to Lutheranism by Hiibmaier in
December of 1522 while they both were in Regensburg.12 Denck re
turned next to Augsburg in 1525 as a teacher and there was later at
tracted, won, and baptized by Hiibmaier who by that time was an
Anabaptist.
In spite of Denck's discipleship of Hiibmaier, he was not one of the
Swiss Brethren but became the originator of a new group, the South
German Anabaptists.13 He was their leader in Augsburg and although
no congregation was founded there before 1527 he baptized numbers
of converts including Hans Hut.
While Denck was in Augsburg in 1526 he came into conflict with
AUGSBURG AND THE EARLY ANABAPTISTS 815
that ardent pastor and defender of Lutheran orthodoxy, Urban

Rhegius. This learned and personable man was in his early thirties
when he first came to Augsburg as a priest. Graduate of the Universi
ties of Basel, Freiburg, and Ingolstadt, Rhegius was a devoted disciple
of John Eck. He had already received many honors, even to exercising
the office of vicar bishop in Constance. It is not known who or what
changed him into a Lutheran, but because of his change he had to
leave the city in 1521. In 1524 he was permanently installed as a pastor
in Augsburg and became the outstanding Lutheran preacher and the
ologian among the city clergy.14 Learned, polished, fluent, fearless, he
was an opponent to be respected or feared. It is not too surprising
that after Rhegius arranged for a public disputation, the uncontentious
Denck preferred to leave Augsburg privately, which he did in October
1526.
Working with Hatzer and Jacob Kautz, Denck spread his doctrines
very quickly along the Rhine, ministering in the vicinity of Basel and,
in August 1527, in the Canton of Zurich. He attended the famous
Martyr Synod after which he made his way again to Basel, petitioned
Oecolampadius for permission to stay there, and was granted this re
quest upon promising he would never baptize anyone again. There he
returned to his original mysticism, even abandoning objection to oaths
and infant baptism. He died of the plague on November 15, 1527.15
Called a beginner of undogmatic Christianity, he was "one of the few
personalities of the 16th century who never indulged in controversy
except with a heavy heart; not a trace of abusiveness or unfairness is
to be found in his writings."16
By the side of Denck stood Hans Hut, another builder of the Augs
burg congregation. Son of Hans Hut, Sr.,17 he was born in Haina, near
Romhild in Thuringia. He became a bookbinder and traveled widely
for a number of years, repeatedly visiting Wittenberg. He is described
as "rather tall, a peasant with light brown cropped hair and a blond
mustache . . . dressed in a gray, sometimes a black, ridingcoat, a broad
gray hat, and gray pants."18 Upon the outbreak of the Peasants' War,
Hut almost participated but "because the shooting was too thick," he
hastened from the field. He sheltered the fleeing Muntzer in his home
for a day and a night and became an advocate of the ideas of "that
firebrand . . . the first Protestant theocrat" with whom "religious and
social revolution coincided."19
Hut first entered Augsburg about Pentecost 1526 after the complete
defeat of the peasants. While there, he joined Denck and Hatzer who,
along with Caspar Farber, persuaded him to join the Anabaptists. He
r
2l6 REFORMATION STUDIES
was baptized by Denck May 26, 1526, in Denck's small house near the
Holy Cross Gate.20 Although Hut lived with Denck for but three or
four days before receiving baptism, and left almost at once, the rela
tionship between these men became of the utmost importance, for
through Hut Augsburg became the central point of South German
Anabaptism.21 Goeters gives Hut credit for really establishing and
nurturing Augsburg's Anabaptism, and traces back through him to
Miintzer's union of economic rebellion and religious enthusiasm as a
Germanic beginning of what developed in Augsburg.22 It was Denck's
influence, however, which kept Hut "aloof from any political or revolu
tionary tendency."23 Hut's significance was felt in regions much larger
than that of Augsburg for "a large percentage of those Anabaptists
called up by the authorities in central Germany attributed their con
version and baptism to Hut."24
Kiwiet upholds Goeters' point, stating that South German Anabap
tism, because of Denck and Hut, did not develop, as is commonly as
sumed, from the preaching of Swiss Anabaptists. By the side of, and
for a time distinct from, Swiss biblical Anabaptism there developed in
South Germany a different form of the movement. The spiritual bent
of the latter was set in it by both of its great leaders, Denck and Hut,
or perhaps more accurately by the spirit of the Theologia Deutsch,
which was Denck's favorite book as it was Luther's in his earlier years;
also by eschatological preaching so characteristic of Hut. Although the
Swiss and German streams met in Strasbourg in the fall of 1526 with
Michael Sattler, father of Swiss Anabaptism, and Denck, the differences
soon were clarified on February 24, 1527, by the Schleitheim Confer
ence over which Sattler presided and of whose Seven Articles he was
the author.25 In these articles the Swiss Brethren, as they were called
thereafter, declared that the scriptural word is suff1cient for guidance,
and that baptism is only for the penitent, thus excluding all infant
baptism, "the highest and chief abomination of the pope."28 Only the
baptized could be admitted to the Supper and the fellowship; reading,
preaching, and discipline might be exercised only by the pastors
(Hirten) of the fellowship; pacifism must be practiced in all circum
stances; and oaths were never to be taken.
The South German Anabaptists, on the other hand, were freer in
their interpretations. They held to faith and love as their criteria; fel
lowship was maintained with many unbaptized persons; unbaptized
but believing persons were admitted to the Supper; and not only the
pastor but anyone who felt himself called to it might preach. Some
did not refuse to take oaths, and the sword was not uniformly for
bidden.27 Although immersion was established as the rite by Grebel,
the Swiss Anabaptist, on or near Palm Sunday, 1525, Hubmaier bap

tized some 300 from a milkpail in Waldshut in that same year, and it
does not appear that he ever changed his method.28 Two Goggingen
converts who were arrested and executed with Langenmantel in 1528
stated under cross-examination that they had been baptized by af
fusion.29 It seems that by continual travel and exchange of ideas these
differences gradually faded out and, as Littell says, "It is now clear
that the South Germans, at least, did not significantly differ from the
Swiss."30 Certainly Wolfgang Musculus, an Augsburg Bucerian pastor
after 1531, criticized the Anabaptists for holding some of the beliefs
which were contained in the Swiss-slanted Schleitheim Articles of 1527.3l
Leaving Augsburg shortly after his baptism, Hut carried on a preach
ing ministry in Bavaria, Swabia, Franconia, and Austria. His work was
very effective as he emphasized eschatology, however without his former
dangerous and iconoclastic interpretations.32 He now held government
to be instituted by God and to be implicitly obeyed. There should be
no community of goods, but he who had a superfluity should help the
poor.
When Hut at the peak of his effectiveness returned to Augsburg in
February 1527, he found a group of earnest and prominent citizens who
had been won to the fellowship although they had not yet received
adult baptism. Among these were Eitelhans Langenmantel, Jacob
Dachser, and Sigmund Salminger. "All [these] were baptized by Hut
in February 1527," and there must have been others. Hut proceeded
with the organization of the congregation although he left the city
after a stay of but nine or ten days.33 Again Hut preached in various
cities, meeting Hubmaier in Nikolsburg. Escaping from the Nikolsburg
prison, Hut continued preaching in Upper Austria, Freistadt, Gallneu-
kirchen, Linz, Passau, Scharding, Braunau, Laufen, and Salzburg. He
returned to Augsburg in time to participate in the Martyr Synod.34
Hut's part in this great synod, which met in August of 1527, was pre
dominant; whereas that of Hatzer, who was present though not a bap
tized member, was very minor. Following the synod, Hut was arrested
on September 15 and never got out of prison alive. Dr. Peutinger had
all kinds of torture applied to him, examining him at least a dozen
times on September 16 and following days. It would be interesting to
know if Hut's ten-year-old son still visited his father, for when Langen
mantel was arrested in the spring of 1527 he had in his possession a
copy of Hut's Rathsbuchlein. Hermann Anwaldt, Langenmantel's serv
ant, testified in his cross-examination of May 13, 1527, that Hut's son
had carried books about for his father.35
Among other mysteries of Hut's life are the circumstances of his
s
2l8 REFORMATION STUDIES
death in the Augsburg prison. One account says he set the straw of his
cell and cot afire hoping to maneuver his escape when the jailer came
to free his shackles. However, he was so badly affected by the smoke
that he died eight days later, December 6. A second account, told by
his son Philip, holds that Hut had been racked in the tower and then
taken to his cell where he lay unconscious. A candle left in his cell
ignited the straw on the floor, and he was found dead when the guards
finally arrived. His body was tied to a chair, taken to court, condemned
to death, and then burned at the stake on December 7, 1527.36 This
was the first of two Anabaptist deaths for which the Augsburg Rat
was directly responsible.
When the writer was making a special report in one of Professor
Bainton's Reformation seminars, mention was made of Eitelhans
Langenmantel. Professor Bainton, with his characteristic humor, com
mented, "A man with a name like that must have played quite an
important role in Augsburg's struggle." There is, therefore, both senti
ment and interest in a closer look at this man with the long name,
for he combines the Augsburg patrician and the "Gartenbruder"—the
struggle, tragedy, and moral victory of the sixteenth-century Ana
baptists.
Eitelhans Langenmantel, son of Eitelhans Langenmantel, Sr., be
longed to one of the oldest, most distinguished and influential families
of Augsburg. His father, who was a member of the Rat for a decade
and served as head tax collector, died by 1525.87
Little is known of the younger Langenmantel's youth. He married
Katharina Wieland in 1501, but she died July 24, 1507, leaving a
daughter who survived until 1589. As a result of his marriage, Langen
mantel found himself in easy financial circumstances, and the tax
record shows he lived in his native city until 1527 without any pro
longed absences.38 It seems that he led a life of privileged ease and lax
moral standards. A portrait by Albrecht Durer shows him in 1515 as a
man in his forties with a small moustache, chin beard, and closely
cropped hair.39 Roth cites an interesting and pertinent incident:
Langenmantel was a rich man who from his youth up frequented
prostitutes. As he followed the road of improvement, he became first
a Lutheran, then a follower of Karlstadt, then an Anabaptist. By his
money as well as his persuasiveness he won many to this sect. While
being led to prison he called out to those who were following him:
"So long as you knew me as a whore-chaser, I was not despised by
any of you, and you all respected me because you knew I was rich.
Now that I have become a follower of the Gospel and am in trouble,
I am become scandalous and a laughing stock to you. However, this
will always be the lot of those who follow Christ."40
Langenmantel was baptized by Hut on March 5, 1527,41 and from then

on was one of the fellowship's most active and loyal members. He was
a persuasive preacher and generous with his means. "Indeed, the
earliest Anabaptist sermon which has been preserved (1527) is that of
Eitelhans Langenmantel on Jeremiah 7:3, 4 and 9:8, a sermon which
sounded a call for repentance and reformation of life."42 A small num
ber of his writings survive—three published by him and two or three
in manuscript.43
The zeal shown by such men as Langenmantel combined with the
rapid growth in numbers could not long be ignored by the Rat
Although Langenmantel was arrested and warned because of his par
ticipation in the brotherhood, and on March 11, 1527, took an oath
to keep the peace (Urfehde);44 he returned to his home and permitted
its continued use as a meeting place. He also continued his religious
activities, apparently not considering all these to be violating the peace.
Langenmantel's next crisis accompanied the meeting of the Martyr
Synod in August. Following its close, the Rat's officers busied them
selves with numerous arrests, incarcerating Langenmantel about Sep
tember 18. He was often handicapped by gout and on this occasion had
to be carried into prison by the police. As a prisoner, he was visited by
Rhegius and other ministers on September 23 and 25. Finally he ad
mitted that the Anabaptists were unjustified in their stand and that
baptism as practiced by the church was right. Even this did not free
him, for on October 14 he was exiled from the city until such time as
the Rat would permit his return, this penalty being exacted because
he had accepted baptism, had opened his home for meetings, and had
remained disobedient after having been warned.45
Langenmantel made his way to nearby Goggingen, finding shelter in
the home of Laux Lang, brother of Cardinal Matthaus Lang who was
also Archbishop of Salzburg. Here he worked arduously although in
constant danger of further molestation. He was visited by his brother
Bernhard, friends, and other Anabaptist exiles who had been present
at the August Synod. Roth says these leaders never left Langenmantel
out of their sight, so highly did they esteem his membership in their
group.46 In view of his retraction, one wonders if it was not because
they also wished to fortify their wavering brother against ministerial
blandishments as well as magisterial banishments.
It is apparent that Langenmantel made furtive visits to Augsburg
in spite of the city's ban.47 Hermann, his rebaptized servant, also made
numerous trips into the forbidden precincts in order to secure supplies
for his master's necessities. Shortly thereafter, and likely fearing he
might be arrested because of his continued forbidden contacts, Langen
mantel left Goggingen and went to Langenneufnach where he lived in

the inn of Matthew Ehem, a maternal relative. Subsequently he went
on to Leitershofen, east of Donauworth, and later slipped into Augs
burg where he felt safer than in the open country. Here he stayed
three weeks with his brother Bernhard and then left for Leitershofen
because of danger from the city authorities. There Langenmantel, his
servant, his wife, and Bernhard Zirgkendorffer and Hans Pfefferlin,
two Goggingen peasant Anabaptists, were arrested on April 24, 1528,
by the Swabian League captain, Diepold von Stein, and taken to prison
in Weissenhorn.48
The rest of Langenmantel's story is pathetically brief. Those ar
rested with him were soon ready to submit to the Catholic demands of
their captors, but he held out steadfastly until May 7 when he admitted
he had erred in accepting rebaptism and confessed the correctness of
the rite as practiced by "the church which cannot err."49 Some records
of the Weissenhorn cross-examinations are extant.50 The prisoners were
asked many questions, some of which show the abiding conviction of
the authorities that Anabaptists were plotting against established order
and were building up a secret force for surprise attack on the magis
trates. On April 30 Langenmantel witnessed that Hut had baptized
him along with others; that he himself had never baptized anyone as
he did not have the authority to do so, and that he had never plotted
with anyone to cause trouble.51 Later he testified that the Anabaptists
had no secret recognition signals or passwords other than the salutation,
"God greet you, brother in the Lord," and the response, "God bless
you, my brother in the Lord." Then they would converse about the
evangel and the Word of God.52 Hermann Anwaldt testified that when
he was baptized the only obligation laid on him was to forsake his
sins, follow Christ, love God, and love his neighbor as himself.53 Signals
of recognition included the greeting, "God be with you," and the
reply, "Peace be with us."54 Pfefferlin's testimony agreed with An-
waldt's. Poor Margareta Anwaldt, Hermann's young wife who wit
nessed that she did not go to services with her husband and never
attended any Anabaptist meeting, requested mercy of her judges.55
The ruthless way in which these prisoners were disposed of, espe
cially the prominent Langenmantel, causes wonder as to what efforts
if any were made on his behalf. Roth's researches made before 1900 in
the Augsburg Stadtarchiv found no official document indicating that
any of Langenmantel's relatives tried to save him.56
But there is a letter by the prisoner dated April 28 which expresses
appreciation for efforts made on his behalf by some friends and rela
tives.57 Their futility is shown by the fact that in view of the recanta
tions, death by fire was not imposed on the men; instead they were
given the "mercy" of the sword on May 11, 1528, by an executioner
brought from Memmingen. Because of Langenmantel's rather chronic
foot trouble, he was carried to the scaffold in a chair and beheaded
while seated therein. Margareta Anwaldt, despite her plea for mercy,
was executed the same day by drowning.
Back in Augsburg, the small persecution which the Rat had carried
on in the spring of 1527 had caused scarcely a stir among the majority
of the members of the new movement. The brotherhood was growing
partly because of the refugees from other cities and territories who came
to Augsburg, some to remain, but others, as pilgrims, to "tarry but a
night." Of course, as with Langenmantel, numbers of Augsburg citizens
were won to the movement. Even Johann Schneid, pastor of the Holy
Cross Church, was wholly on the Anabaptist side but conformed out
wardly to the regular practices in order to keep his position.58
A survey of the work and influence of the founders and builders of
Augsburg Anabaptism—Ludwig Hatzer, Balthasar Hubmaier, Hans
Denck, Hans Hut—along with the assistance and discipleship of such
men as Eitelhans Langenmantel shows that they had given dedicated
service and had won a loyal following which might become outstand
ing. Frequent mention has been made of the Martyr Synod of August
1527, and as it precipitated the next step in the Augsburg struggle it
would be well to take a closer look at it and its meaning for the city's
Anabaptists. An excellent statement concerning the character and scope
of this memorable gathering is given by C. Hege:59
Some scholars have doubted that the meeting known as the Mar
tyrs' Synod ever took place, and J. J. Kiwiet goes so far as to call
it a fiction of Ludwig Keller. Walter Fellmann (Hans Denck Schrif-
ten, I'ji.) gives probably the best analysis of what actually happened,
based on the latest research. Several meetings were held, the chief
one on Aug. 24, 1527, in the house of Mathias Finder, a butcher. It
was at this meeting that the missioners were delegated. One meeting
had been held two or three days before this at the house of Gall
Fischer, a weaver, one of the deacons of the Augsburg Anabaptist
congregation. In these two meetings both Denck and Hut were pres
ent, with about 60 others. A third meeting was held at the house of
Konrad Huber, also a deacon of the Augsburg congregation, where
Hut was present, but Denck absent. Hut calls this latter meeting a
"council." Although none of the sessions was a synod in the formal
sense that a body of delegates deliberated and adopted binding
resolutions, yet there was a consideration of certain points at issue
and at least a sort of agreement, in addition to the appointment of
missioners. In this sense the term conference would be justifiable.

Fellmann holds that the conference consisted largely of representa
tives from the areas where Hut had been preaching, i.e., mostly south
and east of Augsburg. Denck was not the presiding officer, as Keller
supposed. The major theological point at issue was Hut's chiliastic
teaching. He had, among other things, prophesied the second coming
of Christ to take place in the spring of 1528. The conference decided,
with Hut's agreement, to drop certain of the concrete details of the
Hut prophecy, but approved the central idea of the return in 1528.
Fellmann holds that the urge to send out missioners was based on the
concept of the near return of Christ and the urgency of strengthening
the congregations and inaugurating a vigorous evangelistic campaign
before the end.
Hut's influence on the gathering was very strong. When the mission
ers left on their evangelistic travels each took with him a copy of
Hut's letter in which he admonished those who were initiated into
the apocalyptic secrets of the Kingdom not to take offense at those
children of God who proclaimed only a life according to Christ.
Hege60 names eleven of those sent out who were executed by 1529,
another in 1535. Others in attendance met persecution deaths soon
though not delegated as missioners. Littell gives a more macabre
estimate: "Only two or three of the Martyr Synod lived to see the
fifth year of the movement."*1 He must mean the missioners, not all
of those in attendance.
One could wonder that the Rat seemed so indifferent to the Ana
baptists if they were numerous. But it is likely that their number has
been greatly overestimated. One frequently meets the figure 1,100;
but Kiwiet points out that it was a Catholic author who first men
tioned that total and that this writer lived a century after the time
and scarcely knew the difference between Lutherans and Anabaptists.
The chronicler Sender later accepted the above number, only to have
Keller become still more specific by saying there were that many mem
bers in "the Anabaptist congregation in Augsburg in the year 1527."62
Others estimate that by that time they numbered "eight hundred
souls."68 The evidence Kiwiet offers for discounting the larger num
bers is that when Hut said he knew a thousand Anabaptists, he added,
"but in Augsburg not many"; that when a certain Anabaptist prisoner
spoke of many being present at a gathering he meant a total of thirty;
that after the Martyr Synod only five were banished from the city;
and that after the Easter 1528 arrests, when the congregation was at
its largest, only 51 from outside the city and 43 from Augsburg had
to appear before the Rat. Only one statement mentions a larger num
ber and that was when Marx Mayr testified "they often came together
by the hundreds," to which Kiwiet answered that "from the minutes
of the Council we know that many citizens went to see these 'Garten-
briider,' which was the reason the Anabaptists were discovered."94
Even the August 24 main meeting of the Synod consisted of a rela
tively small gathering in which about 60 took part. But as in the
case of later Quakers, a small group of ardent persons can produce
results out of proportion to its size.
In the biographical sketches of the five leaders given earlier in this
study, some items concerning the persecution of the Augsburg Ana
baptists were given in order to complete the individual histories. A
few of these names will appear again in the following accounts only
for purposes of continuity.
On August 28s5 the first wave of arrests occurred, catching Jacob
Dachser, whose earlier defense of Anabaptism had alarmed the clergy
to such an extent that on September 6 Rhegius published Wider den
neuen Tauforden notwendige Warnung an alle Christglaubigen, unit
ing the city in the purpose of stern repression. Denck and Hatzer left
Augsburg before the arrests started or upon receiving news of Dach-
ser's arrest on September 5. New offenders were discovered and im
prisoned upon examination of those previously arrested. Sigmund
Salminger was not taken until the eighteenth. Just how many were
incarcerated does not appear, but the Rat handled them with com
parative gentleness. On September 16 a number of prisoners were
ordered on oath to avoid all Anabaptist gatherings on penalty. On
the seventeenth still more were told the same thing although two or
three might gather to read and discuss the Bible—but no assemblies.
When some refused to swear, they were counseled, but a few still ab
stained. As the city pastors worked with them, more consented. Finally
only six remained obdurate, among them Frau Salminger, and were
led out of the city by the bailiff. Eight others were forever forbidden
the city. On September 19, Laux Kreler and wife, six other women,
and one man had to take the Rat's oath; but two other women who
refused were sent out. Pastors Rhegius, Frosch, Agricola, and Keller
visited, argued with, and preached to the prisoners but without much
effect.66 On September 23, 26, and 30 a number took the required
oath, among them Margareta Anwaldt, wife of Langenmantel's serv
ant. On October 1 those who had taken the oath were called before
that body and told to recant. Further sermons followed with a talk
by the mayor, Ulrich Rehlinger, but all to little effect, for only two
men and two women acceded to the demand. Nine others, among
them the tailor, Hans Leupold, upon saying they would cling to
their Lord, were immediately led out of the city. The others asked
for a three-day period, at the end of which time 44 consented to the
demand for recantation, one of them Langenmantel's servant, Anwaldt.
On October 11, the Rat published, with trumpet call, a decree for
bidding anyone, upon pain of corporal, vital, or financial penalty, to
embrace any new teachings, to keep children from baptism, to feed or
shelter the "Winkelprediger," or to take part in any gathering. Then
for some months the Rat left off further harassment of the congre
gation, perhaps to see how similar problems were handled elsewhere.
Public quiet lasted until February 1528.67
But what of the leaders still in prison from the fall arrests—Lan-
genmantel, Endres Widholz, Gall Fischer, Hans Kissling, Peter Schep-
pach, and Hans Hut? These men, except Hut, having proven them
selves stubborn and disobedient, were exiled and forbidden to return
until the Rat gave permission. As has been seen, in the case of Lan-
genmantel at least, this order was disobeyed.68 Hut's tragic fate pre
vented his ever getting out of prison alive.
Despite the 1527 arrests, refugee Anabaptists still continued to flock
through Augsburg's gates, fleeing mainly from Bavaria, Salzburg, Fran-
conia, and the Austrian territories. If ten were driven out, declared
a prisoner, thirty others came in, changing their abodes almost daily
and finding shelter in appointed lodgings.69 Their main power, how
ever, seems to have been broken by the persecution of the fall of
1527.70 although Kiwiet thinks the 1528 number larger than that of
1527.71 as does Roth also.72
Having branded the Anabaptists in its October 11, 1527, decree as
"wider Gott, christenlich ordnung, guot sitten, erber pollicey" and as
tending toward "zwayung, spaltung, widerwillen, aufruor, zuo abfall-
ung der oberkait,"13 terms which might well have been supplied by
Peutinger or Rhegius, the Rat could not long continue indifferent
or compliant. The continuation of Anabaptist growth and activity,
with some members violating their oaths, further shortened the tem
per of the city rulers. Renewed awareness was also stirred by certain
communications. On January 4, 1528, an imperial rescript arrived
urging that strong measures be taken against the Anabaptists. Another
came from King Ferdinand, the emperor's brother, on February 20
ordering that the Rat investigate the still imprisoned baptizers, par
ticularly as to their secret signals, greetings, and scheming. He also
sent an unusual deposition by a certain Zuberhans in Stuttgart that
there was a growing conspiracy of the Anabaptists, including those in
Augsburg, to go 700 strong through the country killing all rulers,
monks, and papists, also destroying their churches and convents.

Enough believed this accusation to stir the Rat to strike a telling
blow.™
The 1527 harassment had already rid the city of the earlier lead
ers, but in January 1528, the Rat was still clearing its prison of a
few of the most determined holdouts; or, as with Jacob Dachser,
Jacob Gross, and Sigmund Salminger, burying them in the dungeon
where they remained until their recantation—Salminger a few days
before Christmas, 1530; Dachser on May 16, 1531, and Gross on June
22, 1531, the last two influenced to this step by two new Augsburg
ministers, Wolfgang Musculus and Bonifacius Wolfart.75
But even as the old were disappearing, new leaders took their places
in the still sizable congregation. The two most outstanding were
Leonhard Dorfbrunner and George Nespitzer (Jorg von Passau).
Dorfbrunner, ordained to the Catholic priesthood in Bamberg in
1524, joined the Anabaptists in the spring of 1527 upon baptism by
Hut. By the Martyr Synod he was sent to Linz, Austria, but he was
back in Augsburg by November 10. When he finally left the city, he
had baptized about 100 persons there. In January, apparently on his
way to Linz, he was arrested in Passau and was burned at the stake.
He is said to have baptized about 3,000 persons during his short
ministry.76
George Nespitzer arrived in Augsburg near Easter 1527, having
come from Hut in Passau with the authority to baptize others. He
took part in the Martyr Synod and baptized there. Having left the
city in time to avoid the September arrests, he returned the week
before Lent in 1528. In a gravel pit meeting he was chosen superin
tendent, partly because of his stirring preaching of God's judgment
on the persecutors. He worked arduously to organize circles in the
city and the neighboring communities, to bring them into closer
union, and to furnish shelters for refugees from other areas.77
The decree of October 11, 1527, had not been enforced; conse
quently the Anabaptists again became numerous, both from refugees
and from citizen converts. On April 4, 1528, the Saturday before
Palm Sunday, 50 to 60 men and women gathered in a cellar and
celebrated the Supper with nine or ten loaves and two tankards of
wine. Following this meeting, the superintendents formed a sort of
council set up to make sure the truth was taught. Another memorable
meeting was held at daybreak on Saturday, April 11, in the home of
Gall Fischer who had recently left the city. Nespitzer read, baptized,
and preached, the service lasting three hours.78
Easter Sunday morning, April 12, there was a gathering held in
S«6 REFORMATION STUDIES
Susanna Adolf Doucher's home which was located on a side street.

About 100 people—men, women, boys, girls, citizens, and strangers—
were there to celebrate the Resurrection. Nespitzer and Hans Leu-
pold were the leaders. Noticing guards nearby, the alarm was given
and some in the house were able to escape by way of a side door, but
88 were seized and led away in irons. This number included Nespitzer
and his wife, Hans Leupold, and some others who in 1527 had sworn
to leave the city or had been banished.
In keeping with prevailing custom, the citizens were separated
from those known as strangers, most of whom had spent but a few
days in Augsburg. The latter were to swear to leave the city for six
years, earlier return to be heavily penalized. Of the 22 men and 22
women, 40 took the oath and left on April 13. So hurriedly was this
action taken that Nespitzer was not recognized as the superintendent
and was permitted to leave with the others. The man and three women
who refused the oath were whipped at the post and the next day
beaten out of the city.
It was soon clear that the Rat would be more severe with the
citizens and those who had lived there for a long time. On April 15,
16, and 20, a total of 16 men and 17 women were either scourged or
led out of the city. Four who had just happened to be present at the
Easter meeting were fined. Subjected to especially severe punishment
were one man and four women who had opened their houses either
for shelter or meetings. They were pilloried, branded on their cheeks,
then led out of the city. Frau Doucher escaped this severity only be
cause of her pregnancy. A certain Elizabeth Hegenmuller who added
ridicule of the sacraments to her other offenses had her tongue cut
out and, after recovery, was exiled. Frau Salminger who had broken
earlier banishment and those who had refused to swear were scourged
out of the city on April 30. Many others were also whipped out.79
The most severe penalty of all was reserved for the tailor, Hans
Leupold. On October 1, 1527, he had been sentenced to lifelong exile
from Augsburg, but he had re-entered the city on March 26, 1528.80
He had been chosen a superintendent, had served as a messenger,
and had won many followers. Having violated his previous sentence
and refusing to recant after his Easter arrest, he was beheaded on
April 25, the only person other than Hut executed by the Augsburg
authorities in all their dealings with the baptizers.81 However, the
Rat must share the guilt for the deaths of those who, like Langen-
mantel, were driven out of the city where they fell victims to the
forces of the emperor and the Swabian League.
The Augsburg fellowship had received a serious blow which was
so consistently followed up that the conventicles rapidly declined. In

addition to the severe punishments, rewards were given to informers
who would betray the members and patrons. Many who were sincere
believers were thus forced to remain silent and inactive. The num
ber of refugees seeking shelter in the newly harsh city understandably
decreased greatly. As no one dared to open homes for their assemblies,
some gatherings were held in the open; but soon it was generally ac
cepted that the time for open preaching was past and that each per
son was to wait for God's leading. Some fled; some swore with mental
reservations; others hid their lights. The spirit of bold public wit
nessing was quenched. The last superintendent in Augsburg was
George Schachner of Munich who, with Philip Jager from the Rhine,
lived in Augsburg in July and August 1528. But since they felt them
selves checkmated in meetings and observances, both of these men
left before the close of August. A few later attempts to rekindle the
zeal of Anabaptism in Augsburg were easily suppressed by the au
thorities.82 "The last recantations were made in April 1535." "There
is no evidence of existing Anabaptist congregations in Augsburg after
1535 although there must have been individual Anabaptists resident
in the city at various times."83 Among these was one of whom special
recognition must be made.
Pilgrim Marpeck was "the greatest of the South German and Swiss
Anabaptist leaders."84 Not much is known of his early history; even
his birth date is unknown. He was a layman, an engineer, and a mine
judge in the Tirol. On January 28, 1528, he lost this position because
he would not aid in catching Anabaptists as ordered by the Innsbruck
authorities. He thereupon made his way to Augsburg where it is pos
sible he received his "re-baptism."8B In October 1528 he arrived in
Strasbourg where he soon became a leader of the Anabaptists, at the
same time managing the wood supply of the city.86 When he was
banished from Strasbourg following a dispute with Bucer in Decem
ber 1531 he made Augsburg his headquarters for his labors among
the South German Brethren.87 "In late 1544 he moved permanently
to Augsburg," and secured employment as an engineer. His Anabaptist
activities caused him to be warned a number of times that he should
desist, but for some unknown reason the city continued him in his
position until his death in 1556.88 It was during his Augsburg residence
that Marpeck wrote a number of letters and books, some of them in
his controversy with Schwenckfeld. Two outstanding books were his
Verantwortung (c. 1543-1546) and his Testamentserlauterung (c. 1544),
a book of more than 800 pages.89
Although Augsburg was early considered a city of refuge for per
secuted Anabaptists and was so used by Hiibmaier, Denck, Hut, and

other less well-known workers and refugees, yet the city stands con
victed of a vacillating policy toward them before 1528. In that year,
however, its attitude became consistent enough. In the light of that
day Augsburg was not cruel, yet it outdid Strasbourg, where enforce
ment of laws did not result in any executions of Anabaptists. Augs
burg, by whatever groups or pressures motivated, succeeded in ex
tinguishing within its bounds "the creative tension, the eager expect
ancy, the catalytic effect upon church and society which was the
original genius of Anabaptism."90 It was a victorious conclusion—
but for whom?
>
Bernhard Rothmann's Views
on the Early Church
Frank J. Wray
The question of the nature of the early church and its place in
the whole span of history played an important part in the religious
controversy which swept over Western Europe in the sixteenth cen
tury. Far from being a matter of mere academic interest, it was in
timately related to the issues of the day and to proposals as to what
should be done. The Roman party identified itself with the apostolic
church and claimed that its episcopacy had succeeded to the place,
power, and authority of the apostles.1 For Luther, Zwingli, Calvin,
and their followers the remnant of the true church had remained
within the great church, which they wished to free from the control
of the papal Antichrist and from which they aimed to remove the
abominations that had been introduced. Theirs was a program of
reformation designed to restore an ailing and corrupted church to the
health and purity of its early centuries. Anabaptists in general called
for a separation from the fallen church and the rebuilding of the
church upon its ancient foundations. They in particular stressed the
pattern of the church of the New Testament, and in contrast especially
to the Reformed party they emphasized the distinction between the
Old Testament and the New, between the Israelite community and
the Christian church.2 A noteworthy exception appears to have been
the Anabaptist revolutionaries at Munster, among whom the Old
Testament pattern was followed. The chief Munsterite spokesman,
Bernhard Rothmann, had, however, emphasized the New Testament in
the first of his major writings, Bekentnisse van beyden Sacramenten,
Doepe und Nachtmaele (1533).3 To what extent, then, did his later
writings repudiate his earlier view and to what extent did he accom
modate his views of the early church to his new frame of reference?
This is the question to which the present essay is directed in attempt
ing to analyze Rothmann's references to the apostles and the early
church.
s
In the Bekentnisse, Rothmann denned the church as "an assembly

of believing children of God."4 It is composed of believers only, and
its indispensable marks are the true preaching of the gospel, true
baptism, and the true Lord's Supper.5 The proper understanding and
practice of the two sacraments must, Rothmann insisted, be based
upon the words of Christ and the practice of the apostles.6 At various
points in the tract, Rothmann does refer to nonscriptural sources such
as Origen, Tertullian, the Roman missal, Ambrose, Augustine, Pliny
the Younger, Cyprian, Heinrich Bullinger, and Sebastian Franck;7 but
his use of them is confined to strengthening his arguments with respect
to apostolic usage.
According to Rothmann, true baptism is the entrance to the church
and "there is no other gate to eternal life."8 Yet the essence of the
sacrament is not the administration of the rite but the commitment
of the believer. "Paul and the other Apostles did not regard highly
the elements."9 Drawing upon I Peter 3:2of., Rothmann argued that
baptism saves not because one has been immersed in water but be
cause of "the covenant of a good conscience with God."10 Repentance,
faith, and commitment on the part of the candidate are prerequisites
for Christian baptism. In support of this position Rothmann quoted
Romans 6:31., Colossians 2:10-12, Galatians 3:27, and Acts 2:37^, as
well as from Origen, Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans, V,
8, Tertullian, On Penance, VI, and an old collect from a service used
after Easter.11 Baptism on this basis conforms to the institution and
command of Christ, "and the Apostles also did not otherwise than
their Lord and Master had commanded."12
Rothmann denied that there is any evidence that the apostles prac
ticed infant baptism. The fact that they were said to have baptized
whole households does not necessarily imply that infants were in
cluded any more than in the instances where "all Judea" went out
to hear John the Baptist (Matthew 3:5) or when "all Jerusalem"
shared King Herod's concern over the news of Christ's birth (Matthew
2 = 3).13
Those who follow any meaning and practice other than that which
Christ has commanded and the apostles have used do not engage in
Christian baptism but commit a sin and an abuse, for which God
shall punish them.14
With respect to the Lord's Supper, Rothmann believed that John
the Evangelist, Paul, and the "ancient teachers" understood the Sup
per to be "a meeting in love and an eating and drinking together of
believers in Christ, which was commanded by Christ to his memory."15
>
BERNHARD ROTHMANN'S VIEWS ON THE EARLY CHURCH 2J1
Rothmann held that the original church in Jerusalem had practiced

it on this basis.18 He also quoted at length from Sebastian Franck's
Chronicle17 a description of early practices of the church in which the
Supper appears to have been accompanied by prayer, reading from and
interpreting the Scriptures, the correction of deficiencies or errors
within the church, the excommunication of those who were evil and
unholy, and provision for the material support of those in need.18 It
is worth noting that this particular quotation places a strong emphasis
upon community of goods as a characteristic of the early church.
Rothmann believed that corruption and abuses entered the church
very early. The apostles themselves recognized the need for continued
teaching after baptism to prevent the members of the church from
returning to the old sinful life.19 He saw evidence of abuses in the
time of the apostles themselves. One was the attributing of salvation
to the act of baptism instead of the commitment it signifies, as seen
in Paul's reference to baptism for the dead (I Corinthians 15:29). Roth
mann suggested that here we may find the origin of infant baptism,
which follows logically from such a point of view.20 Infant baptism
he regarded as the background for monasticism21 and the major cause
of the fall of the church.22 Among other abuses he mentioned were
the misuse of common property by bishops,23 the hypocrisy of Ananias
and Sapphira (Acts 5:1-1o),24 and the abuse of the Lord's Supper by
the church at Corinth (I Corinthians n:2off.).25 Still, the fall of the
church as it appeared in Rothmann's Bekentnisse was a gradual proc
ess, for true baptism was in evidence until the ninth century,26 and
the proper use of the Supper and community of goods lasted until
the end of the fourth.27
The emphasis upon the New Testament and the apostolic pattern
is also revealed in Rothmann's refusal to regard the church as essen
tially one with the pre-Christian Israelite community. In rejecting the
argument in favor of infant baptism by analogy with circumcision,
Rothmann declared that the covenant with Abraham applied only
to Abraham and his descendants, not to Christians. Those who would
enter the covenant of the New Testament must believe for themselves.
"We are not now under the Old Testament but under the New. . . .
Abraham is not here a figure of Christian parents, but a representa
tion of God the father; likewise, the children of Abraham are no
images of the children of Christians but of the believing and reborn
children of God."28
Thus for Rothmann, Christ and his apostles mark a new departure
in the history of salvation characterized by true preaching of the gos
pel, personal repentance, faith and commitment, believer's baptism,

love for one another symbolized in the Lord's Supper and demon
strated in community of goods, and excommunication of the un
worthy. Rothmann regarded these characteristics as still valid; hence,
the apostolic church was the model for a practical program through
which the true church was to be restored.
In October 1534, eleven months after the appearance of the Bekent-
nisse, Rothmann issued his second major work, Eyne Restitution, edder
Eine wedderstellinge rechter unnde gesunder Christliker leer, gelouens
unde leuens uth Gades gnaden durch de gemeinte Christi tho Munster
an den dach gegeuenn.29 This tract may properly be regarded as an
apology for the revolution through which the so-called New Israel
had been established at Munster earlier in the year.
This time Rothmann defined the church as "an assembly, large or
small, which with a true confession of Christ is thus founded upon
Christ, that they may keep his words along and fulfill all his will and
commandments."30 Although it appears that the Miinsterite policy
of expelling those who did not join them violated the voluntary prin
ciple and moved in the direction of an exclusive state church, as John
Horsch has pointed out,31 the theory of a church of believers was
still maintained both with respect to Munster and the early church.
Rothmann summarized the gospel which Christ commanded the
apostles to preach as follows: "Repent, and be sorry for your sins.
Believe the Gospel that Christ died for your sins and let yourselves
be baptized in his name, to the washing away of your sins; so shall
you receive the gift of the Holy Spirit, that you may have the desire
to keep God's commandment."32 This is the message which Peter
preached at Pentecost,33 and the apostles were afraid, according to
Rothmann, to baptize anyone without a previous indication of faith.
Thus Philip baptized the Ethiopian treasurer only upon confession
of faith, and Peter would never have been so bold as to order that
Cornelius and those with him be baptized had they not already re
ceived the Holy Spirit.34
In the Restitution, as in his earlier work, Rothmann held com
munity of goods to be a characteristic of the early church. This time,
however, he equated the practice to the fellowship of the saints and
made it indispensable. One cannot be a Christian, Rothmann de
clared, unless he is in such a fellowship or at least desires to be so.85
With respect to the Lord's Supper, Rothmann made no reference
to the apostolic practice beyond its original institution by Christ.
He did, however, claim that at Munster they assembled at a stated
BERNHARD ROTHMANN'S VIEWS ON THE EARLY CHURCH 2$$
place and examined themselves so that they might worthily enter

upon it, show forth the death of the Lord with true faith, and break
bread together in true love. They also prayed for all kinds of need
ful things, especially for the brothers and sisters who were still subject
to "the dragon." Then they remedied any deficiency in the church.36
Although Rothmann did not say so, it appears that he may have had
in mind the practice which he attributed to the early church in his
Bekentnisse.
As in the Bekentnisse, Rothmann held that the fall of the church
began in the time of the apostles, but the reason assigned and the
scriptural references are different. For evidence he cited Philippians
3, I John 2, and II Peter 2, and the reason given was not the intro
duction of infant baptism but human reason, wisdom, and pleasure.
The fall was also much more rapid, for within a century after the
ascension of Christ falsehood held sway.37
A definite increase in Rothmann's anti-intellectualism is to be seen
not only in the new reasons for the fall of the church, but also in an
additional characteristic he attributed to the apostolic church. Christ's
gospel had been delivered to "innocent, poor, simple, unlearned fish
ermen and ill-bred people."38 In the Bekentnisse, it is true, Rothmann
had rejected human wisdom and hairsplitting and had found the "ra
tional theologians and scholars" among the supporters of error;39
but, as we have seen, he did not hesitate to refer to nonscriptural
sources. In the Restitution, however, Clement, Tertullian, and other
ancient writers appear not as witnesses to apostolic usage but as ex
amples of learned writers through whom the devil has obscured the
truth.40 The restitution of the true church, like the founding of the
apostolic one, is to be accomplished not by the intellectuals but
through the most unlearned men, such as Melchior Hoffmann, Jan
Matthys, and Jan of Leyden, "who is entirely unlearned in the opin
ion of the world."41
Most significant, however, is Rothmann's change in his theology of
history and the place of the early church therein. In the Restitution
Rothmann viewed history as a series of attempts on the part of the
devil to overthrow the word of God. These attempts have resulted
in a series of "falls" on the part of man, but each time God has re
stored what has fallen. Thus the original fall of Adam was restored
when Adam and his descendents were taught by the Spirit of God
and commanded to do his will and to await his promises. The result
of a fall from this restitution was the Flood and another restitution
in Noah. The same process was repeated with respect to Abraham,
Moses, the prophets, and finally Christ, in whom the most nearly
complete restitution was made. Even so, the restoration in Christ and
the early church was only a beginning, for it was followed by a fall
deeper than any previous one. The next restitution is to be an eternal
one and a completion of what was begun in Christ.42
This view of the place of the early church in the history of salva
tion robs it of some of its uniqueness and hence also of some of its
value as a model. Furthermore, if the restitution in the first coming
of Christ was only a beginning, we might expect the full restitution
to be something other than an exact replica of the early church. In
deed, this was the case in Rothmann's thinking. Not all of the prophe
cies were fulfilled in the New Testament.43 Rothmann now wrote in
terms of the "Kingdom of Christ," which he viewed as a literal one in
which Christ will actually rule as king.44 In the time of restitution,
which Rothmann believed was at hand, Christians, unlike the apostles,
may use force. There was a time of the Cross and "Babylonian captiv
ity." There is also a time of release, in which the godless shall be repaid
in double measure through the same means they have used against
God and his people.45 In setting forth these views, Rothmann claimed
that his eschatology was the same as that of the apostles, but that it
had not been rightly understood since their time.46
The uniqueness and importance of the early church was also dimin
ished by Rothmann's new view of the relationship between the Old
and New Testaments. In the Restitution his position on this point
is almost the reverse of what it had been in the Bekentnisse. The Old
Testament is not obsolete. Certain practices, such as sacrifices, fire,
washings, dietary laws, and the ark of the covenant, are indeed no
longer binding upon Christians, for the spirit and truth symbolized
by these have been fulfilled in Christ. This is true also of the Sabbath,
since Christians regard every day as holy and are to cease from their
own works and will to do that of God. Yet the law has not been super
ceded but restored. Christ came not to abrogate the law and the
prophets but to fulfill them. Christ and the apostles had no other
scripture than the Old Testament, which Paul and the other apostles
cited. The Old Testament contains not only promises to the faithful
which have been fulfilled in Christ but also unfulfilled matters relat
ing to the Kingdom of Christ. The New Testament does indeed "tes
tify of Christ and his testament, but it does not stand alone." Its foun
dation and truth has been determined by Moses and the prophets.47
Rothmann's argument for polygamy rests upon this conception of
the relationship between the Old and New Testaments. It is clear,
BERNHARD ROTHMANN'S VIEWS ON THE EARLY CHURCH 235
he held, that polygamy was permissible in the Old Testament and is

nowhere forbidden in the New.48 In fact, I Timothy 3, according to
Rothmann's opinion, indicates that polygamy was permissible in the
time of the apostles.49
In December 1534, two months after the Restitution, Rothmann is
sued Eyn gantz troestlick bericht van der Wrake unde straffe des Babi-
lonischen gruwels,60 which was a call to all "true Israelites and cove
nanters in Christ" to join in the destruction of the "Babylonian
power." Here he stresses particularly the difference between the time
of the apostles and the time of the restitution. The former is the
period for proclaiming, embracing, and spreading the Kingdom of
Christ. The apostles, however, did not have the power to enforce it.
Men did not want Christ to rule them, and they scorned and killed
all who worked for the Kingdom of Christ. God waited with patience
until the godless had fulfilled the measure of their evil. Now, how
ever, the time of wrath and recompense is at hand.51
Rothmann's conception of the relationship between the Old and
New Testaments in this pamphlet appears to be essentially the same
as in the Restitution. He claims that both the prophets and the apostles
have foreseen the events which are taking place, and he cites references
to both Testaments: Deuteronomy, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Daniel, Ezekiel,
Joel, Micah, Zechariah, Malachi, Matthew, Luke, Acts, Romans, and
II Thessalonians.52 The captivity of the historic Israel by Babylon
prefigures the history of the church,53 and the new David (i.e., Jan
of Leyden) is preparing the way for the new Solomon.54 At the end
of the pamphlet he called upon the brethren to arm themselves for
battle, "not only with the humble weapons of the Apostles for suffer
ing, but also with the glorious armor of David for vengeance."55 His
reference to apostolic weapons here seems, however, to contradict
a previous statement, for early in the pamphlet he had advised the
brethren to "let fall the apostolic weapons and take up the armor of
David."56 From the general context of the pamphlet and the circum
stances under which it was produced, perhaps one might venture to
construe Rothmann's meaning in the following manner. The latter
statement is evidently aimed at those Anabaptists who practiced non
violence and defenselessness on the ground that they should follow
the example of the apostles. The other statement probably means
that in addition to using force the brethren should retain the stead
fast endurance and boldness of the apostles in the face of all kinds
of hardship and opposition. Marginal references to II Corinthians 6
and 10 appear to confirm this interpretation.
^
In February 1535, Rothmann published another tract under the

title Von Verborgenheitt der Schrifft des Rickes Christi und von dem
dage des Herrn durch die gemeinde Christi zu Miinster.6'' Here Roth
mann unequivocally adopted the Old Testament as the standard by
which all else is to be measured. "The principal true Scripture," he
declared, "is Moses and the Prophets." These contain what is suffi
cient for salvation. There are other praiseworthy books which may
be called Holy Scripture, but these have their basis in Moses and the
Prophets and must be judged according to them. Especially is this
true of the New Testament, in which we find statements such as,
"This happened in order that the Scripture may be fulfilled," and,
"Thus it is written." Thus the New Testament is an indication that
the principal part is actually fulfilled in Christ.58
Rothmann's periodization of world history also suggests that the
apostolic age does not constitute a sharp break with ancient Israel.
History is divided into three principal periods, or "worlds." The first
extends from Adam to Noah. The second covers the period from Noah
to the time of the restitution, that is, to Rothmann's own time. The
third age will usher in the Kingdom of God.59 Yet within this frame
work Rothmann did not make the church identical with the pre-
Christian Israelite community, a distinction which apparently enabled
Rothmann to appropriate certain elements of the Old Testament
without taking the ceremonial law or embracing Judaism wholesale.
A new period (newtit) and a new divine service did begin in Christ,
and "the physical descendants of Abraham together with all figurative
outward ceremonies, also the outward physical Jerusalem and the
Temple were entirely overturned and devastated. For God's word
and action which was carried on with Abraham and his descendants
was simply a prefiguration."60
Rothmann further divided the period between the Incarnation and
the second coming of Christ into two parts, as he had done previously
in the Restitution and in his Van der Wrake. The first part is the
time of suffering, in which the swords that the apostles purchased61
were kept sheathed until the godless and Antichrist have increased
the measure of their evil and the number of saints has been fulfilled.
The second part is that of the restitution (that is, the present) when
Christians shall make use of the sword.62 As before, Rothmann claimed
that the Apostles had shared his eschatological views.63
In his concept of the church, Rothmann still retained personal faith
as an indispensable ingredient. An active commitment to Christ and
the fulfilling of the commands and will of God were essential to be
BERNHARD ROTHMANN'S VIEWS ON THE EARLY CHURCH 237
ing a Christian. Baptism signifies such a commitment, and the Lu

therans were condemned by Rothmann because they would not enter
the "right way to all righteousness" through baptism. Paul and the
other apostles preached nothing else than a faith in which men sur
rendered themselves to Christ that they might become "conformed to
Him in all righteousness and holiness."64
Rothmann 's treatment of the fall of the church was much like
that in his Restitution. Corruption was evident in the time of the
apostles themselves, and the truth of Christ remained undefiled for
less than a century.65 The cause is to be found in men's preference
for human opinion over obedience to God.66 Here one of the opin
ions which he specifically denounces as a source of corruption is the
doctrine of the Trinity.67 This apparent anti-Trinitarianism is not,
however, based on a rationalistic or humanistic approach and is really
not a denial of the Trinity as such. It is instead a reflection of Roth-
mann's anti-intellectual and anti-speculative attitude.
In his essay Van erdisschen unnde tytliker gewalt. Bericht uith Got-
lyker schryfft68 dated in 1535 but probably unfinished, Rothmann re
veals much the same view with respect to the place of the early church
in the history of salvation as he did in the Restitution. Christians were
the successors of Israel, which had violated the law and had therefore
been rejected by God.69
In conclusion, it appears that Rothmann specifically repudiated the
apostolic church on one point only: the use of force. Even in this
case, the rejection was not complete, for Rothmann claimed to have
remained true to the eschatological vision of the apostles. The non-
resistance of the apostles was right for their time, but, according to
Rothmann, that time had passed.
Throughout the writings considered here Rothmann conceived of
both the apostolic church and the church of the restitution as one
made up of committed believers. Baptism was administered only on
the basis of such faith and commitment in the time of the apostles
and in the restored church. Community of goods was regarded as
an apostolic practice essential to the church, and the communion serv
ice at Miinster as described by Rothmann appears to bear consid
erable resemblance to what he believed the procedure of the early
church had been. In the later writings another characteristic common
to both the apostolic and the restored churches was that the truth is
apprehended by the unlearned.
Perhaps the greatest change in Rothmann's thinking was the role
of the early church in his theology of history. Rothmann's Restitu-
r
tion was in fact a repudiation of this part of his Bekentnisse. In No

vember 1533, the New Testament, not the Old, and the early church,
not ancient Israel, furnished the norm and the pattern, as Rothmann
conceived them, for the rebuilding of the true church of Christ. A
year later he regarded the two Testaments as more or less a unit; and
while the church was not identical with the Israelite community,
the New Testament and the apostolic church were viewed in the light
of the Old Testament. The apostles were seen as the bearers of and
witnesses to an ancient truth which had been partially fulfilled in
Christ and part of which was still to be fulfilled. The apostles were
not repudiated outright, but their role was fitted into a new frame
of reference whereby they could appear to support the new regime
at Min1ster. In the later tracts Rothmann kept essentially the same
position except that the normative value of the Old Testament re
ceived greater emphasis, with the early church becoming progressively
less significant in this respect.
Fecund Problems of Eschatological Hope,
Election Proof, and Social Revolt
in Thomas Muntzer
Lowell H. Zuck
Thomas Miintzer has been a problem child of Reformation study

to all who have heard of him since 1520. He has been rejected by
Lutherans from the time of his first conflict with Luther, but Baptists
of German origin are equally reluctant to claim him as their father
though it would be logical to do so. Heinrich Boehmer, a Lutheran,
described him as the "founder of the great Baptist movement,"1 while
Mennonite scholars, from the standpoint of their pioneer Baptist fel
lowship, regard him as always having remained a Lutheran.2
Muntzer does enjoy the dubious honor at the present time, though
no Christian denomination honors him, of being promoted as the first
modern European to anticipate the utopia of communist faith. Even
in that Marxist haven of dogmatic security, however, the latest on
Muntzer is that Russian scholars are no longer in agreement that he
was truly revolutionary.8 One may quietly rejoice, perhaps, that even
the Russians cannot agree about Muntzer.
Yet this latest disagreement leaves Miintzer's reputation and signifi
cance still very much at the mercy of unsettled historic and theological
arguments. We here cannot pretend to settle deep-seated differences
in interpretation of Muntzer. Our purpose is merely to consider, on
the basis of his life, the importance of the problems which he raised
so vividly but answered so unconvincingly. The most notable of these
problems are: Does eschatological hope result in responsible life; can
election be proved; and is revolution in church and society a Chris
tian imperative?
A review of the details of Miintzer's brief life is necessary in order
to describe the significance he placed upon religious hopes, election,
and social revolt. His life parallels Luther's and since Miintzer's major
conflict was with Luther, comparisons and contrasts are in order.
About six years younger than Luther, Muntzer grew up in the Harz
<
mountain area of Thuringia, at Stolberg and Quedlinburg, slightly

northwest of Luther's boyhood home. The little we know of Miintzer's
parents and education indicates a similar background to that of Lu
ther, removed from extreme poverty yet close to peasant stock. Like
Luther, Muntzer was a bright student and took advantage of the best
German education of the day as it was emerging from scholastic dol
drums. He matriculated at Leipzig University in 1506, attended the
University of Frankfurt on the Oder, showed facility in biblical lan
guages, may have taken a doctor's degree, became a secular priest,
served as provost of a monastery near Halle around 1514, and de
veloped his medieval spiritual sensibilities as confessor to a Thuring-
ian convent around 1519.4 Muntzer met Luther at this time, either
in person or through reputation and correspondence, and allied him
self immediately with his equally fiery but greater colleague from the
regular clergy. Miintzer's choice to become a secular cleric, rather
f than an otherworldly regular monk like Luther, may be evidence
for Miintzer's greater radicalism from the beginning. Seidemann main
tains that Muntzer was present and supported Luther in the debate
with Eck at Leipzig in 1519.5 Luther seems also to have encouraged
Muntzer when he came into conflict with the Franciscans in Leipzig.
Muntzer may have attended lectures by Luther at this time. Luther
was the prime mover, at any rate, in securing for Muntzer a position
as substitute pastor in 1520 at Zwickau, the "pearl of Saxony," then
in the midst of religious and economic unrest among the miners. The
cool Erasmian pastor, Egranus, had had little control over his church
nearing revolution in Zwickau. It was at Zwickau that Miintzer's ex
cited religious hopes based upon assurance of election first resulted
in radical upheaval.
In a significant article on "Luther and the Fanatics," Karl Holl
claimed that Muntzer showed himself to be an original genius when
he worked out a theology of election based upon a mysticism of the
cross, which brought assurance of election through inward religious
experience and resulted in dynamic religious and social action.6 Ro
land Bainton developed Holl's view of Muntzer further when he
gave Muntzer credit for beginning a new variety of theocracy, the
Protestant type based on piety, which flowered late among New Eng
land Puritans who strove mightily to supplant the older theocratic
methods of Hebrew tribalism and Catholic sacramentalism.7 Bainton
like Holl emphasized that Muntzer was the pioneer reformer to iden
tify the elect by means of feeling, conversion, or piety. When one
adds to this the driving spiritual power of Miintzer's eschatological
FECUND PROBLEMS OF ESCHATOLOGICAL HOPE 24 1
hope and the Marxist insight that Muntzer was the first religious
reformer to anticipate a fundamental reformation of society, the
fecund nature of his inspiration becomes apparent. Yet the problem
of Muntzer looms large also. In spite of all of this originality, Muntzer
was thwarted in practice by his lamentable fanaticism, self-delusion,
and irresponsibility. Already at Zwickau the fatal flaws in Muntzer
appeared."?
Muntzer was a born demagogue who impressed his hearers as
breath-takingly eloquent and marvelously self-possessed, although his
sombre piety tended to conceal the fact that his spiritual development
had been marked by inward doubt and turmoil. In Zwickau he found
responsive followers when he showed his colors immediately upon
arrival. Miintzer's first sermon launched a blistering attack upon the
wealthy and influential Franciscans of the town. As a result of the
charges and countercharges, Muntzer gained the support of the Town
Council, and when Luther heard of his boldness he approved. Zwickau
had a tradition of radicalism associated with the Waldenses and the
revolutionary Taborite Bohemian brethren. Moreover, economic un
rest had resulted from the rich silver mines nearby, and the jealous
guild of weavers began to demand justice for the lower classes. Miintz
er's religious life was stimulated by a master weaver and biblical
prophet from the lower classes, Nicholas Storch of Zwickau.
Storch and his Zwickau prophets, Marcus Stiibner and Thomas
Drechsel, had created a sensation by their visit to Wittenberg in De
cember of 1521. Evidently Muntzer did not accompany them on that
mission, although in his "Letter to the Princes of Saxony Concerning
the Rebellious Spirit," Luther stated that "he (Muntzer) has been
once or twice in my cloister at Wittenberg and had his nose punched."8
One scarcely knows how literally this should be taken. The excited
dreams, visions, and immediate revelations of the Zwickau prophets
had intimidated Melanchthon and Amsdorf during Luther's absence.
Storch's vivid eschatological hope impressed his hearers greatly. He
claimed that with his gift of prophecy he could forsee that God was
about to wipe out the present spiritual and earthly authorities in the
church, and that the divine Kingdom would be inaugurated by God's
own pious, bold people.9]When Luther heard of what was going on
in Wittenberg, he felt it necessary to return immediately from exile
at Wartburg in spite of personal danger to himself. Back home in
Wittenberg, Luther brusquely rejected the prophets and restored
order through a famous series of gentle but exceedingly firm sermons.
Luther proved by his acts on this occasion that he had little confidence
in visionaries deriving from the common people. He did not regard

himself as one of them. The paradox of Luther is evident here. He
was strong enough to reject the prejudices of his own background, yet
he thereby lost something vital and relevant to the faith of common
men. Muntzer, on the contrary, adopted as his own the increasingly
spiritualistic and revolutionary views of Storch. But in so doing
Muntzer showed less self-confidence than Luther. The active and emo
tional master weaver, Storch, had become dominant over the early
Muntzer who until then had been scholarly, pastoral, and Lutherlike.10
Muntzer did not remain in Zwickau longer than April of 1521. He
preferred to begin rather than to complete radical religious reforms,
and we find him next traveling to the city of Prague, perhaps in imita
tion of Storch's pilgrimage there the year previously. At Prague,
Muntzer made known his eager eschatological hopes. His purpose in
entering the city was to proclaim the immediate fulfillment of the
divine rule in that Bohemian center of Hussite reform and revolu
tion, and he made bold claims for his own prophetic mission. Muntzer
prepared four different versions of his "Prague Manifesto," two in
German, one in Czech, and one in Latin.11 The different versions
betray some calculation in Miintzer's message, since his message of
divine judgment whispered more softly to the upper classes and schol
ars in Latin while it bristled with fanaticism in the vernacular. He
not only spoke of general fulfillment of eschatological hope to come
but also outlined a program for the inauguration of a "new church,"
the church of the spirit, composed of the elect friends of God. Muntzer
here referred to the familiar radical teaching that Christianity had
been falling since the time of the apostles, but he assured his follow
ers that the true church was about to be restored in the latter days
when God would bring his elect to victory and complete the over
throw of the ungodly. /But the Bohemians had had enough revolu
tion for the present. ^Fhey were little disposed to dream of the prom
ised era of the church of the spirit or the world of complete social
equality; nor were they intimidated by Miintzer's threats of the judg
ment of God upon them through a disastrous Turkish invasion, if
they should fail to repent and take positive steps in preparation for
the coming of the Messianic Kingdom. Muntzer left Bohemia in dis
gust and, after a period of restless wandering, returned to a new
ministerial post at Allstedt in the mining area of Saxony, where his
ideas were more warmly received.
In Allstedt Muntzer found the kind of unsettled, lawless community
which responded readily to his appeals for active religious dema-
goguery. His enthusiasm brought followers. The townspeople heard
FECUND PROBLEMS OF ESCHATOLOGICAL HOPE 24J
him gladly, but the peasants and miners around Allstedt were even
more in agreement with his urgent calls for reform. While he was
at Allstedt, Muntzer married a former nun who bore him a son, and
his sensitive liturgical reform in the church was another fruit of this
balanced period of his life. Indeed, his work in writing a German
Mass, fully choral, and in preparing beautiful congregational matins
and vespers, made him the pioneer liturgical reformer of the sixteenth
century and one of the most gifted of them all, perhaps more liturgi-
cally inspired than Butzer, Luther, or Thomas Cranmer.12
More than before, Muntzer now felt himself called to a rigorous
divine mission. All of the extant Allstedt sermons and tracts drive
home Miintzer's insistence that "inexperienced faith" on the part of
theologians, pastors, and people would not be enough, that only those
who possessed inward, emotional proofs of their election could aid in
achieving the spiritual victory which Muntzer felt was sure to come.
In his "Fuerstenpredigt," Muntzer warned the princes of Saxony that
only those who had experienced inner proof of their election would
be saved: ". . . none may be saved unless the . . . Holy Spirit have
previously assured one of salvation."13 "Such learned divines . . . wish
to instruct the whole world . . . And yet [they] are not even assured
of their own salvation."14 Muntzer said of both Catholics and Lu
therans that "they mix up nature and grace without any distinc
tion."15 "The more nature gropes after God, the further the opera
tion of the Holy Spirit withdraws itself."16 Thus, Muntzer claimed,
the "learned divines" "impede the progress of the Word . . . which
comes forth from the deeps of the soul . . . you may ask, How does it
then come into the heart? Answer: It comes down from God above
in exalted and terrifying astonishment." Muntzer had come to dis
trust the Catholic concern with perfection of nature through grace
as well as the Lutheran interpretation of justification with its lack of
concern about the way in which the divine Spirit might overcome
the natural man. He accused both faiths of externality and shallow
ness: "He [who has not the Spirit] does not know how to say anything
deeply about God, even if he had eaten through a hundred Bibles!"17
Quotations from Muntzer about the testimony of God from the deeps
of the soul ("von Abgrund der Seelen herkoemmt") can be further
substantiated in each of his six major works, including the "Protesta
tion odder Empiettung" and "Ausgedriickte Entblossung des Falschen
Glaubens."18 The origin of this terminology seems to have been from
the medieval mystical tradition which Muntzer had absorbed from
Suso and Tauler, though its connection with mysticism centering in
the Cross of Christ was related to Luther's view also. Luther retained
less of mystical experience, however, when as an evangelical reformer

he spoke of his trust in Christ and the Cross. It was this inward test
for election, more than anything else, which bolstered the confidence
of Thomas Miintzer and assured his followers of the genuineness of
their own election, releasing energies for further radical acts in state
and church.
Miintzer's preaching now grew even more excited and radical. He
allowed no criticism of his ideas. When his patron, the Count of Mans
field, condemned his preaching and liturgical reform at Allstedt as
heretical, Miintzer struck back from the pulpit against his employer
and superior with unexpected fury. From this time on, Miintzer signed
his letters with an emphatic "Thomas Miintzer, Destroyer of the Un
faithful."19 It was not meant as a metaphor. But what further action
could he take against the orders of his patron? Miintzer turned again
to the Bible for illumination, and was rewarded with a further dis
covery. From the pages of the Old Testament the answer came this
time. Here was the proposal of God himself. Self-disgust may have
overwhelmed him as he recognized that he had depended too much
upon his own efforts to accomplish the designs of God. Could the
Lord of heaven and earth forgive impious self-delusion? Could it be
that his dependence on the "living Spirit" had been reliance upon
his own spirit, that his efforts to follow the "bitter Christ" had been
only a veiled attempt to set up himself as a bitter Christ to be fol
lowed? Suddenly the answer had come from Scripture, in the midst
of his meditation. In inner ecstasy, Miintzer received the demand of
God that his people at Allstedt swear a solemn covenant with the
Lord of heaven and earth and with each other, to fulfill his com
mands completely. Something more than ecclesiastical correctness of
the preached Word and rightly performed sacraments was needed in
this situation. Why had he omitted the covenant earlier? Miintzer
now realized that this was to be the means by which God elects and
disciplines his holy people. The covenant was the answer, in Germany
as well as among the Israelites of old. With suppressed excitement
Miintzer wrote his friend, the mayor Hans Zeiss, in July 1524 that he
had just preached from II Chronicles 34:31 about finding the book
of the law and making a covenant between God and his people. Just
as Hilkiah had found the book of the law, and as the high priest had
made a covenant with God and the whole people within the Temple,
so Miintzer saw that it was his divine mission to covenant with God
and all the faithful of Allstedt, that they would inquire into the law
and keep it with their whole heart and soul.20
FECUND PROBLEMS OF ESCHATOLOGICAL HOPE 245
Muntzer felt that he had to have a precise object of attack in order

that zealous followers could feel the literal necessity of swearing to
the covenant and slaying the godless. He already had the allegiance
of most of the masses. His bold attack upon the Count of Mansfield
had attracted two thousand of the curious and discontented miners
of Mansfield and the surrounding area to Miintzer's preaching, while
at home the artisans and peasants idolized the fiery prophet. Now
was the time to attack. Outside Allstedt was a beautiful pilgrimage
chapel venerating the Virgin Mary. Muntzer demanded its violent
destruction by fire. "The chapel is a cave of vice," he ranted; "the
worship of the Virgin is nothing but idolatry."21 His hearers were
persuaded not only by the appeal to iconoclasm, always present
among Reformation radicals, but also because the rich chapel sym
bolized the pretension and wealth of the Roman church in the un
sympathetic eyes of the lower classes. Within a few days, Muntzer
successfully swore the masses into his covenant of the elect, and the
Mallerbach chapel was burned to the ground. His confederates cov
enanted to "stand up for the Gospel, to pay no more tithes, and to
help wipe out monks and nuns."22 Miintzer's covenant of the elect
was self-conscious religious revolt in the name of the common peo
ple, demanding the allegiance of the magistrate for their program,
and boldly claiming Reformation leadership for Allstedt instead of
Wjitenberg.
The purpose of Miintzer's covenant of the elect was quite clear.
Those who had sworn the covenant of the elect aimed at control of
the church and society. But what attitude would the magistrates and
Miintzer's rivals for the leadership of the church take? Undoubtedly
Luther would never tolerate Miintzer's announcement that he was
appointed to take the place of Luther as leader of the Reformation
movement. Luther had not hesitated an instant in rebuffing the cov
enant proposals of the Zwickau prophets. Muntzer was already identi
fied with fanatical Zwickau enthusiasm, but, in addition, his open
appeals to revolution and violence frightened Luther, a realistic con
servative who depended on the magistrate and the state to restrain
evil, never dreaming that saints could aspire to domination of worldly
society. For all his strength and self-possession in the service of the
gospel, Martin Luther shuddered before the audacity and presump
tion of Thomas Muntzer. For the conservative Luther, only anarchy
and worse would result if the two kingdoms were to be confounded,
as Muntzer was proposing.
Luther advised the princes to smite the religious fanatics, if they
should draw the sword. The princes wavered, waiting uneasily to see
which of the religious 'leaders could command the loyalties of dis
satisfied common people and peasants. They knew that Muntzer's
covenant was more than incitement to revolt and violence in the
name of the underprivileged. The more positive program of the
covenant probably envisaged restoration of apostolic sharing of goods
and establishment of a brotherhood of love. The privileges of the no
bility were to be restricted when the new covenant was put into effect.
Muntzer specified that community of goods need not mean complete
abandonment of rank. For instance, distribution of horses to the no
bility was to follow a schedule: the princes were to be allowed eight,
the counts four, and noblemen two horses.23 Here was no dishonoring
of authority, but it was evident that the nobles were to be subordinate,
not dominating, in the covenant of the elect.
The authorities debated whether Muntzer or Luther was advocat
ing true evangelical doctrine. At first, some of the princes leaned to
ward the truth of Muntzer's position. During Muntzer's earlier con
flict with the Count of Mansfield, Hans Zeiss, the Allstedt mayor, in
uncertainty about the truth of conflicting religious positions, advo
cated the traditional method of settling religious disputes, an open
disputation at Wittenberg between Muntzer and Luther. But care
ful avoidance of a disputation, cultivated by other magistrates, only
increased the uncertainty. The princes frequently suspected Luther's
intentions, and Luther always distrusted the political motivation of
the princes. Luther went so far as to refer to the cool young politician,
Prince Frederick of Saxony, with the biting epithet "princeps dissimu-
lans et ferians." On the other hand, Duke John of Saxony was half
convinced that Muntzer's position might be the true one, because his
chief preacher at Weimar, Wolfgang Stein, influenced by Karlstadt
and Jacob Strauss, was complaining that the revival of imperial law
was unjust and unchristian, and that Mosaic law should be restored
within society.24 Frederick the Wise, like his brother Duke John,
was unwilling to move rapidly against Muntzer. Young Prince Fred
erick exhibited the most eagerness to stand with Luther, but the radi
cal preaching of Strauss and Stein made him hesitate to condemn
similar appeals for social reform and revolution by Muntzer. In re
sponse to their requests, Luther preached twice on worldly authority
at the Weimar court in 1522, and he dedicated his "Von Weltlicher
Obrigkeit" to Duke John. Luther insisted that the princes must re
strain evil by means of the sword, according to Romans 13. They
must remember, he insisted, that no Kingdom of God is possible in
this world. '
The princes traveled to Allstedt to hear personally how Miintzer

regarded the office of the magistrate. Characteristically, Miintzer aimed
his sermon directly at them, demanding that they submit, themselves
to his authority as administrator of the divine covenant. Not to be
outdone by Luther, Miintzer had his own interpretation of Romans
13. He maintained that one must not allow such great weight to the
first verse, "Let every soul be subject to the authorities, for they are
ordained of God." Rather, Luther should have emphasized verse four,
"The authorities are a minister of God for good; but if you do evil,
be afraid, for they bear the sword to avenge evil." Miintzer went on
to show that Romans 13 did not mean meek subordination of the
people to the magistrate, as Luther taught. Rather, the people are
the authority; they are good. The magistrates are their ministers.
Moreover, the task of the people is destruction of the godless, through
the covenant of the elect. Miintzer turned Luther's text for obedience
to the magistrate into a revolutionary demand that the princes min
ister to the elect by wiping out the ungodly/]
In a letter of October 1523 to Prince Frederick the Wise, Miintzer
reminded him of his duty to support the elect, and made clear to
Frederick that Miintzer, not Luther, had correctly identified the elect.25
But in his sermon to the princes, Miintzer was not content with find
ing revolution in St. Paul. He used a more inflammatory text, the
second chapter of Daniel, to prove that the Lord would complete
the history of salvation by means of the divine covenant, and that he
had elected a new Daniel (Miintzer) to lead the faltering princes
into actual realization of the eschatological Kingdom on earth, the
long awaited Fifth Monarchy. What should the princes do? "Wipe
out the godless," said Miintzer,
You are a holy people. Do not spare the ungodlyl Break their images,
smash their altars, and burn them completely. Wipe out the ungodly
with the swordl If you refuse, the sword will be taken from you.
Priests and monks who deny the Holy Gospel shall die! Remember
that Nebuchadnezzar wisely appointed Daniel to judge what the
Holy Spirit has spoken. Only the elect know the future. The godless
have no right to live.26
Curiously, Miintzer's bold proposal to lead the princes into destruc
tion of the ungodly did not disturb them very much, and they did
not think it necessary to act against him immediately. July 13, 1524
ended with Miintzer in safety, and the princes seemed only mildly
irritated by his abusive sermon. As long as Miintzer appealed for
their support in his program, the princes felt no great apprehension,
though understandably they were hesitant in yielding to a blood
thirsty Daniel. But on July 24, Muntzer preached a covenant-sermon

which stirred the princes into action against him. They recognized a
threat in the secret covenant organization. In his covenant-sermon,
Muntzer made it clear that the deafness of the princes toward his
program did not eliminate his agency for revolutionary action, which
was the secretly sworn covenant of the elect. He was preparing the
Allstedt covenanters to inaugurate the revolution, whether or not
the princes paid attention to his program. Hans Zeiss continued to be
troubled about his duty as a magistrate in Allstedt and reported
Muntzer's covenant-sermon to Duke George on July 28, asking
whether this preaching was from God, since one ought not resist
it if it was.2^ At this point the princes realized that Muntzer's con
trol over a secret revolutionary organization might be dangerous to
-, f *he^ state. They summoned him to a hearing at Weimar on August 1.
Muntzer and his Allstedt companions could not conceal their aims
from the princes at Weimar nor did they intend to do so. The con
tradictions in his program were evident. On the one hand, Muntzer
1 ■" recommended willingness to suffer, a mysticism of the cross, without
A | finy attention to material goods. On the other hand, he was prepared
to lead a social revolution of the peasants and common people, aimed
toward community of goods and substitution of the authority of the
people for that of the princes. But contradictions in Muntzer did not
prevent the princes from recognizing that their fears of a revolution
ary covenant organization had some justification. Duke John stiffened,
and as a result of the Weimar hearings Muntzer was ordered to dis
band his covenant organization and to print no more inflammatory
. '- ,■ '" .writings. ..
The decisive order from the princes against Muntzer's covenant of
the elect checked his influence very quickly. The revolutionaries were
\ , quite ineffectual when it came to a showdown. Outwardly Muntzer
1
did not seem to be cowed. He resumed fiery preaching about the cov
enant on his return to Allstedt, but most of the leaders among his
confederates hesitated to defy their princes. Muntzer now addressed
his former friend, Nickel Rueckert, as "Judas Iscariot." The Town
Council remained steadfast in its new decision to follow the lead of
the princes, who were insistent that Muntzer must be kept under
control.
Realizing that he could no longer work effectively in Saxony,
Muntzer fled about a week later from Allstedt. Muhlhausen in Thu-
ringia was Muntzer's destination, where seething economic unrest
aided his revolutionary intentions. Here also he found another revo-
lutionary pastor, Heinrich Pfeiffer, who had already located a base
for agitation against the Town Council in the lower-class tradesmen.
By his flight from Saxony, Miintzer was assured of a hearing for his
covenant-preaching, and the Saxon princes could not block his pub
lishing activities after he had entered Thuringia. Before going to
Muhlhausen, Miintzer sought out a radical colporteur in Thuringia,
Hans Hut, and entrusted him with publication of another revolu
tionary tract, "Ausgedriickte Entblossung des Falschen Glaubens"
("Open Denial of False Belief"). Hut, who became one of the im
portant early leaders in South German Anabaptism, printed it with
the aid of employees of a Nurnberg printer.28 Pfeiffer and Miintzer
were able to win a quick victory over the Town Council in Muhl
hausen, but their triumph was short-lived, and the fleeing Miintzer
spent two months in South Germany and Switzerland fanning the
flames of the Peasants' War, in the areas where that revolt had be
gun.29 By early 1525 Pfeiffer and Miintzer were back again in Muhl
hausen, and Miintzer now became the preacher of the peasants and
the most notorious leader of the Peasants' War, where his quixotic
enthusiasm resulted in one of the tragic massacres of history, though
his faith in the realization of the covenant of the elect continued
until the end. At the battle of Frankenhausen, Muntzer's fanaticism
goaded the peasants into the climactic tragedy of the Peasants' War,
where the armies of the Protestant Prince Philip of Hesse and the
Catholic Prince George of Saxony massacred half of the 10,000 sheep
like peasants without opposition on May 15, 1525. Miintzer, attempt
ing to escape, was caught, imprisoned, tortured, made a good confes
sion, and calmly accepted his execution by beheading on May 27.
Only the legend of Thomas Miintzer now remained for noncon
formists to ponder and as a basis for repression of radical groups by
the leaders of church and state.80
The conclusion of the matter brings us back again to the peculiar
mixture of self-centered folly and spiritual wisdom which was in
Thomas Miintzer. AH men struggle with his problems. Few act on
them so rashly as did Miintzer. Yet every Christian who knows that
he is part of the world, called to minister to and overcome the world,
must deal somehow with the problems of Thomas Miintzer. And, as
in the case of Miintzer, excessive confidence in eschatological hope
and anxious seeking for proofs of election may lead us astray, though
the Christian message does give us unconquerable hope and divine
election provides us with our really significant opportunities to do
the will of God. In addition, each Christian, and the church as well,
25O REFORMATION STUDIES
is called to a revolutionary task in church and society, as problematic

in details today as it was in Miintzer's time, but no less imperative
for us also. In spite of his irresponsibility, Miintzer came to grips
with reality when he recognized that faith has to do with men's po
litical, economic, and social concerns as well as with their souls.
Gordon Rupp, in a broadcast to the Russian zone of Germany, sum
marized well when he said of Miintzer that "it was not Luther who
in 1525 let the peasants down, but Thomas Miintzer with his utopian
pipe dreams and his dialectical thinking which led only to terrible
disillusionment and disaster . . . And yet in him ... we come near
to that smothered medieval undercurrent of injustice, resentment,
and pain, now defeated once more, now driven dangerously under
ground—a tradition lost to the church but one day to return to the
gates of Christendom—aggressive, heretical, anticlerical, yet a wit
ness somewhere to a Christian failure of practical compassion. Thomas
Miintzer, like the Iron Curtain, should give us an uneasy conscience."31
A Bibliography of Professor Bainton's
Writings on the Reformation Period
Compiled by Raymond P. Morris
MONOGRAPHS
The Age of the Reformation (Princeton, N. J.: Van Nostrand, 1956), pp. 192.
Paperback.
Bernardino Ochino, Esule e Riformatore Senese del Cinquecento, 1487-1563. Ver-
sione dal Manoscritto Inglese di Elio Gianturco (Firenze: G. C. Sansoni, 1940),
pp. x, 213. (Biblioteca Storica Sansoni. Nuova Serie, IV).
Bibliography of the Continental Reformation: Materials Available in English (Chi
cago: The American Society of Church History, 1935), pp. 54. (Monographs in
Church History, No. 1).
David Joris, Wiedertaufer und Kampfer fur Toleranz im 16. Jahrhundert (Leipzig:
M. Hcinsius Nachfolger, 1937), pp. vi, 229 (Archiv fur Reformationsgeschichte,
Texte und Untersuchungen. Erganzungsband, VI).
Here I Stand; a Life of Martin Luther (Nashville: Abingdon-Cokesbury Press, 1950),
pp. 422. Reprinted (New York: New American Library of World Literature, 1955),
pp. 336. Paperback.
Translated into German, Greek, Spanish, and Japanese. Portions of this book
have been delivered as the Nathaniel Taylor lectures at the Yale Divinity
School, 1946-47, the Carew Lectures at the Hartford Seminary Foundation, 1949,
and the Hein Lectures at the Wartbure Seminary and Capital University.
Hunted Heretic; the Life and Death of Michael Servetus, 1511-1553 (Boston: Beacon
Press, 1953), pp. 270. Reprinted, 1960, pp. xiv, 270. Paperback.
Michel Servet, Hiritique et Martyr, 1553-1953 (Geneve: E. Droz, 1953), pp. 148 (Tra-
vaux d'Humanisme et Renaissance, 6).
The Reformation of the Sixteenth Century (Boston: Beacon Press, 1952), pp. xi, 276.
Reprinted, 1956, pp. 278. Paperback. Translated into Hebrew.
The Travail of Religious L1berty; Nine Biographical Studies (Philadelphia: The
Westminster Press, 1951), pp. 272.
The James Sprunt Lectures, 1950.
PARTS OF BOOKS
"Academic Freedom in the Light of the Struggle for Religious Liberty," in Proceed
ings of the Middle States Association of History Teachers, XXXIII (1935), pp. 37-44.
"The Anabaptist Contribution to History," in The Recovery of the Anabaptist
Vision, ed., Guy F. Hershberger (Scottdale, Pa.: Herald Press, 1957), pp. 317-326.
"Luther's Simple Faith," in Luther Today (Decorah, Iowa: Luther College Press,
1957), pp. 1-33 (Martin Luther Lectures, 1).
"Luther's Struggle for Faith," in Festschrift fUr Gerhard Ritter (Tubingen: J. C. B.
Mohr, 1950), pp. 232-243.
Appeared also in Church History, XVII (1948), pp. 193-206.
"Michael Servetus and the Trinitarian Speculation of the Middle Ages," in Autour
de Michel Servet et de Sibastien Castellion; Recueil, ed., Bruno Becker (Haarlem:
H. D. Tjeenk Willink, 1953), pp. 29-46.
"Probleme der Lutherbiograpn1e," in Lutherforschung Heute, Hrsg. von Vilmos
Vajta (Berlin: Lutherisches Verlagshaus, 1958), pp. 24-31.
Internationaler Kongress fiir Lutherforschung, Aarhus, 1956.
"The Puritan Theocracy and the Cambridge Platform," in The Cambridge Platform
of 1648. Tercentenary Commemoration (Boston: The Beacon Press, 1949), pp. 76-86.
Also published in The Minister's Quarterly, V (1949), pp. 16-21.
"Sebastian Castellio, Champion of Religious Liberty, 1515-1563," in Castellioniana:
Quatre Etudes sur Sibastien Castellion et L'Idee de la Tolirance, par Roland H.
Bainton, Bruno Becker, Marius Valkhoff et Sape van der Woude (Leiden: E. J.
Brill, 1951), pp. 25-79.
"Sebastian Castellio and the Toleration Controversy of the Sixteenth Century," in
Persecution and Liberty; Essays in Honor of George Lincoln Burr (New York: The
Century Co., 1931), pp. 183-209.
TRANSLATIONS
Chateillon, Sdbastien. Concerning Heretics . . . Now First Done into English, by Ro
land H. Bainton (New York: Columbia University Press, 1935), pp. xiv, 342 (Rec
ords of Civilization).
Holborn, Hajo. Ulrich von Hutten and the German Reformation. Translated by Ro
land H. Bainton (New Haven: Yale University Press; London: H. Milford, Oxford
University Press, 1937), pp. viii, 214 (Yale Historical Publications Studies XI).
The Martin Luther Christmas Book, with Celebrated Woodcuts by His Contempo
raries; translated and arranged by Roland H. Bainton (Philadelphia: Westminster
Press, 1948), pp. 74.
ARTICLES
"Augsburg," in The Mennonite Encyclopedia, I, p. 185.
"Burned Heretic: Michael Servetus," in Christ1an Century, LXX (1953), pp. 1230-
1231.
"Changing Ideas and Ideals in the Sixteenth Century," in Journal of Modern His
tory, VIII ( 1 936), pp. 4 1 7-443.
"The Church of the Restoration," in Mennonite Life, VIII (1953), pp. 136-143.
Menno Simons Lecture, 1952.
"Congregationalism: From the Just War to the Crusade in the Puritan Revolution,"
in Anaover Newton Theological School Bulletin, XXXV (1943), pp. 1-20.
Southworth Lectures, 1942.
"The Development and Consistency of Luther's Attitude to Religious Liberty," in
Harvard Theological Review, XXII (1929), pp. 107-149.
"Documenta Servetiana," in Archiv fur Reformationsgeschichte, XLIV (1953), pp.
223-234; XLV (1954), pp. 99-108.
"Durer and Luther as the Man of Sorrows," in The Art Bulletin, XXIX (1947), pp.
269-272.
"Eyn Wunderliche Weyssagung," Osiander-Sachs-Luther, in Germanic Review, XXI
(1946), pp. 161-164.
"Forschungsberichte und Besprechungen," in Archiv fur Reformationsgeschichte,
XLIII (1952), pp. 88-106.
"The Immoralities of the Patriarchs According to the Exegesis of the Late Middle
Ages and of the Reformation," in Harvard Theological Review, XXIII (1930), pp.
40-49.
"The Left Wing of the Reformation," in Journal of Religion, XXI (1941), pp. 124-
>34.
"Let's Agree on the Reformation," in Christian Century, LXIV (1947), pp. 237-239.
"Luther and the Via Media at the Marburg Colloquy," in The Lutheran Quarterly,
I (1949), pp. 394-398. .
"Luther 1n a Capsule, 1n Bullet1n of the Amer1can Congregational Association, III
(May, 1952), pp. 1-9.
"Man, God and the Church in the Age of the Renaissance," in Journal of Religious
Thought, XI (1953-1954). PP. 1>9->33.
Issued also in mimeographed form in The Renaissance, A Symposium. New
York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1953, pp. 51-62a.
"Marpeck (Marbeck), Pilgram," in The Mennonite Encyclopedia, III, p. 492.
"Michael Servetus and the Pulmonary Transit of the Blood," in Bulletin of the His
tory of Medicine, XXV (1951), pp. 1-7 (The Fielding H. Garrison Lecture).
"New Documents on Early Protestant Rationalism," in Church History, VII (1938),
pp. 179-187.
^
BIBLIOGRAPHY 253
Review of Per la Storia Degli Eretici Italiani del Secolo XVI in Europa, Testi
Raccolti da D. Cantimori e E. Feist, 1937.
"Our Debt to Luther," in Christian Century, LXIII (1946), pp. 1276-1278.
"The Parable of the Tares As the Proof Text for Religious Liberty to the End of
the Sixteenth Century," in Church History, I (1932), pp. 3-24.
"The Present State of Servetus Studies," in Journal of Modern History, IV (1932),
PP. 72-92.
"The Querela Pads of Erasmus, Classical and Christian Sources," 1n Archw fur
Reformationsgeschichte, XJLII (1951), pp. 32-48.
"Sebastian Castellio and the British Amer1can Tradition," in Het Boek, XXX (1952),
PP. 347-349.
"Servet et les Libertins de Geneve," in Bulletin Sociitc' de L'Histoire du Protes-
tantisme Francais, LXXXVII (1938), pp. 261-269.
"Servetus and the Genevan Libertines," 1n Church History, V (1936), pp. 141-149.
"The Smaller Circulation: Servetus and Colombo," in Sudhoffs Archiv fur Geschichte
der Median und der Naturwissenschaften, XXIV (1931), pp. 371-374.
"The Struggle for Religious Liberty," in Church History, X (1941), pp. 95-124.
"What is Calvinism?," 1n Christian Century, XLII (1925), pp. 351-352.
"William Postell and the Netherlands," in Nederlandsch Archief voor Kerkgeschie-
denis, XXIV (1931), pp. 161-172.
Notes and Acknowledgments
ROLAND H. BAINTON: A BIOGRAPHICAL APPRECIATION
(Harkness)
. Heroes and Hero Worship, “The Hero as Divinity” (London: Chapman and
Hall, 1870), 34.
. Culture and Anarchy (New York: The Macmillan Co., 1896), 15.
. Roland H. Bainton, Pi º:
Parson (New York: Thomas Nelson & Sons, 1958), 53.
:. Roland H. Bainton, The Church of Our Fathers (New York: Charles Scribner's
Sons, 1953), 72-73.
FAITH AND KNOWLEDGE IN LUTHER’S THEOLOGY

(Bendtz)
. Luther's Works, Weimar edition (hereafter WA), 45, 905; 24, 7.

WA 4, 278.
WA 40:1,607.
WA 42, 397.
WA 56, 11-13.
WA 19, 206.
WA 21, 17o.
WA. 16, 4.
. WA 56, 12.
. WA 45, 90.
. WA 42,292.
: . WA 56,666f.
13
. Adolf von Harnack, Lehrbuch der Dogmengeschichte (Freiburg: J. C. B. Mohr,
1894-1897), III, 813.
. WA 10:1, 152.
. WA 40:1,609.
.i .
.
WA 40:1, 73.
WA 40:1, 365.
. Luther, Den Trålbundna Viljan, trans. by Gunnar Rudberg (Stockholm: Svenska
Kyrkans Diakonistyrelses fêrlag, 1925), 238.
19. WA 39:1, 97-98.
20. WA 24, 17.
21. St. Louis ed. (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 1894), Bk. 3, 660-661; Bk.
13, 1532-1533.
22. WA 18, 143.
23. WA 14,607.
24. WA 50,273.
. WA 33, 118.
26. WA 42, 116.
27. WA 39:2, 5.
28. WA 38,608ff.
29. WA 39:1, 288.
. Anton C. Pegis, ed., Basic Writings of Saint Thomas Aquinas (New York: Ran
dom House, 1945), 316.
31. WA 42,397.
32. WA 39:2, 3-5.
NOTES AND ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 855
A REASONABLE LUTHER (Fischer)
1. "Marburg Colloquy" (1529), in Hermann Sasse, This Is My Body (Minneapolis:

Augsburg Publishing House, 1950), 237.
2. Douglas C. Macintosh, The Problem of Religious Knowledge (New York: Harper
& Brothers, 1940), ch. 19, 342.
3. Quoted by Philip S. Watson in his edition of Luther's Commentary on St. Paul's
Epistle to the Galatians (Westwood, N. J.: Fleming H. Revell, 1953), 13.
4. A. C. McGiffert, Protestant Thought Before Kant (New York: Charles Scribner's
Sons, 1926).
5. Norman Sykes, Crisis of the Reformation (London: Geoffrey Bles, 1950), 3gf., cf.
41,28.
6. Weimar edition (hereafter WA), 7, 838.
7. "Was bedeutet die Formel Convictus testimoniis scripturarum aut ratione
evidente in Luthers ungehornter Antwort zu Worms?" Theologische Studien und
Kritiken 81 (Gotha: Perthes, 1908), 62ff.
8. "Disputation Concerning Man," Theses 4-9 (1536), Luther's Works (hereafter
LW) (American Edition), J. Pelikan and H. T. Lehmann, eds. (St. Louis: Con
cordia Publishing House and Philadelphia: Muhlenberg Press, 1955-), vol. 34,
137 (slightly altered).
9. "On Keeping Children in School" (1530), Works of Martin Luther (Philadelphia
Edition), H. E. Jacobs, ed. (Philadelphia: Holman Press, 1915-1932), vol. 4, 163.
10. F. Edward Cranz, An Essay on the Development of Luther's Thought on Justice,
Law, and Society (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1959). Harvard The
ological Studies, XIX, especially 148, 1738.
11. "Against the Heavenly Prophets" (1525), LW 40, 175.
12. "Commentary on Jonah" (1:5!) (1526), WA 19, 206L Quoted in George W. Forell,
Faith Active in Love (New York: The American Press, 1954), 118.
13. "Psalms Commentary" (1513-1515), WA 3, 382.
14. "Heidelberg Disputation" (1518), LW 31, 35ft Cf. Walther von Loewenich,
Luthers Theolog1a Crucis (Munich: Chr. Kaiser Verlag, 1954) and Gordon Rupp,
The Righteousness of God (New York: Philosophical Library, 1953).
15. Anders Nygren, "Reconciliation as an Act of God" in Lutheran Church Quar
terly 7 (Gettysburg, Pa.: Times and News Publishing Co., 1934), 1ff. Cf. the
masterful chapter (21) on "Luther's Struggle for Faith" in Roland H. Bainton,
Here I Stand (Nashville: Abingdon-Cokesbury Press, 1950).
16. Cf. Forell, Faith Active in Love, op. cit.; Gustaf Wingren, Luther on Vocation
(Philadelphia: Muhlenberg Press, 1957).
17. Torgau, "Sermon on Jesus Christ" (1533), WA 37, 39L
18. Martin Luther on the Bondage of the Will, J. I. Packer and O. A. Johnston, eds,
(London: James Clarke & Co., 1957), 312.
19. Ibid., 90, 78.
20. Ibid., 90, 271.
21. Ibid., 251, 137, 232, 191ff.
22. Ibid., 67, 75, etc
23. Ibid.,%15.
24. Ibid., 265.
25. Ibid., 1o2ff.
26. Ibid., 268.
27. Ibid., cf. 1368.
28. Ibid., 141, cf. 149, 190, el passim.
29. Ibid., 194.
30. Ibid., so$t„ 206, 94.
31. Ibid., 170.
32. More accurately, Luther's words reflect Ezekiel 33:11.
33. Bondage of the Will, 170!, 216.
34. Ibid., 132.
35. Ibid., 2155., 82f., 317!, etc
36. Ibid., 139, 276, cf. 306.
S56 REFORMATION STUDIES
37. Ibid., 232, 2ooff., 184.

38. Ibid., 1ssf.
39. Ibid., 67.
40. Ibid., 201.
41. Ibid., 19off.
42. Ibid., 70S., 123ft.
43. Ibid., 71.
44. /bid., 73f.
45. /b1d., 169c
46. /b1d., 17of., etc
47. Ibid., 101.
48. Ibid., 316.
49. Galatians Commentary, op. cit., gn.
50. Z.W 37, 161-372.
51. /b1d., cf. 2o6ff.
52. Ulrich Zwingli, "Christian Answer" (1527), Huldreich Zwinglis Samtliche Werke,
hrsg. Emil Egli, Georg Finsler, u. a., Bde. 88- of Corpus Reformatorum (Leipzig,
1905-). Bd. 92, 880.
53. "Marburg Colloquy" (1529), in Sasse, This Is My Body, op. cit., 241.
54. Luther, "This Is My Body" (1527), LW 37, 75.
55. Ibid., 95.
56. Ibid., 34.
57. "Great Confession," op. cit., LW 37, 272.
58. Ibid., 212.
59. Disputation on "The Word Was Made Flesh," Theses 18-21 (1539), WA 39:2, 4.
Cf. Bengt Hagglund, Theologie und Philosophie bei Luther und in der oc-
camistischen Tradition (Lund: C. W. K. Gleerup, 1955). (Lunds Universitets
Arsskrift. N.F. Avd. 1, Bd. 51, Nr. 4), 94ft.
60. "Great Confession," op. cit., 174, cf. 252L
61. Ibid., 1941,212, 294ft.
62. Ibid., 295ft. Illustrations under "c" are drawn from Augustine's "On the Trinity."
63. Ibid., 213ft., 276ft.
64. Ibid., 271f.
ANFECHTUNG IN LUTHER'S BIBLICAL EXEGESIS (Hovland)
1. "Tischreden" (hereafter TR), 4777 (1530-1540) in Luther's Works, Weimar edition.

2. Roland H. Bainton, Here I Stand (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1950), 42.
3. Jacob Grimm, Deutsches Worterbuch (Leipzig: S. Hirzel, 1854ft.), 1428.
4. Luther's Works, Weimar edition (hereafter WA), 2, 122-126. This translation and
explanation of the Lord's Prayer was written in 1519.
5. For an excellent treatment of this see John von Rohr"s essay in this volume,
"Medieval Consolation and the Young Luther's Despair." Cf. also his unpublished
Ph.D. dissertation (Yale University, 1947): "A Study of the Anfechtung of Martin
Luther to the Time of His Evangelical Awakening with Special Reference to the
Problem of Salvation," for a review of the literature. Cf. also Roland H. Bainton's
article and review of Heinrich Boehmer's "Road to Reformation," in Church
History XVI (1947), 167ft.
6. TR 352.
7. WA 54, 185. Cf. also 43, 537 and TR 141.
8. "Briefwechsel" (hereafter BW) in Luther's Works, Weimar edition, 4, 272.
9. Paul Reiter, Luthers Umwelt und Personlichkeit (Copenhagen: Levin and Muns-
gaard, 1937-1941), 2 vols. Cf. Roland Bainton's criticism in his article and review
of Boehmer, loc. cit., 169.
10. Cf. C. MacLaurin, De Mortuis (London: Jonathan Cape, 1930) for a review of
Luther's physical health.
11. Erik H. Erikson, Young Man Luther, "A Study in Psychoanalysis and History"
(New York: W. W. Norton, 1958).
12. Ibid., 255.
13. WA 44, 500; 36, 464; 5, 354; 45, 620; and 44, 504. Cf. also S0ren Kierkegaard's
comment that Luther acted and spoke as if lightning was about to strike him at
any moment! Der Einzelne und die Kirche, uber Luther und den Protestantismus
(Berlin: William Kutzemeyer, 1934), 17.
14. The phenomena of Anfechtung very greatly engages our generation. Such words
as "anguish," "the absurd," "anxiety," "meaninglessness," "alienation," and
"guilt" are themes in contemporary thought about man. The terminology is used
by both Christian and atheistic forms of Existentialism. Cf. Paul Till1ch, The
Courage to Be (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1952). Tillich is especially
helpful in interpreting Luther's symbols in contemporary language.
15. WA 19, 218, "Der Prophet Jona ausgelegt" (1526).
16. WA 24, 573.
17. WA 7, 450 (1521).
18. WA 5, 627; 27, 5; 34, I, 13. Cf. Erich Vogelsang, Der Angefochtene Christus hex
Luther (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1933).
19. Eduard Thurneysen, Dostojeweski (Zurich: Gotthelf Verlag, 1948), 11.
20. Gerhard Ritter, "Luther," Encyclopedia of the Social Sciences (New York: The
Macmillan Co., 1933), IX, 632.
21. WA 14, 136.
22. WA 42, 127.
23. WA 24, 94.
24. WA 42, 130 ("ecce stat ante tribunal Dei").
25. WA 14, 138.
26. WA 24, 1syf.; 5, 354; TR 596, 2693.
27. Cf. Heinrich Bornkamm, "Christus und das 1. Gebot in der Anfechtung bei
Luther," Zeitschrift fur Systematische Theologie, V (1938), 453-477.
28. WA 14,228. " r
29. Ibidem.
30. WA 14, 229.
31. TR 142.
32. WA 18,468.
33. TR 475.
34. Dr. Martin Luthers Sammtliche Werke (Erlangen: Heyden & Zimmer, 1828-1870),
63:25.
35. TR 3558B.
36. 771 4203.
37. WA 3, 68ff.; 1, 159ft.; 18, 467; 31, 1, 28off.; 31, 1, 250ft.
38. WA 5, 203.
39. W04 31,1.65.
40. WA 31, 1, 73.
41. WA$1, L96.
42. WA 31, 1, 150.
43. WA 24, 82 (1527).
44. WA 52, 773ft.
45. WA 27, 1 10.
46. TR 5097.
47. TR 6317, 1601, 2387 A, 3678.
48. TR 3777.
49. S0ren Kierkegaard, Concluding Unsc1entific Postscript to the Philosophical Frag
ments (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1941), 410.
50. WA 44, 1 10. I am indebted to Prof. Fritz Blanke of the University of Zurich and
his book, Der verborgene Gott bei Luther (Berlin, 1928), for suggestions in this
area.
51. WA 15,373.
52. WA 40, I, 173.
53. WA 24, 574; 24, 577: 44, 97: 24, 578 and 44, 100; TR 6294; WA 44, 102 respec
tively. Cf. Thomas Knolle, "Scheinbaren Parallele zwischen Teufel und Gott—
Christus" Luther Vierteljahresschrift (1934), Vol. XVI.
54. WA 24, 575, 577.
55. WA 21, 118.
56. WA 44, 100.
57. WA 37, 315 (1534).
^
58. WA 27, 22.

59. WA 27, 23.
60. WA 28,401.
61. TR 3669.
62. WA 44, 111. Suffering is held to be a mark of the true church in Luther's pam
phlet, "The Councils and the Church," WA 50, 16off. (1539).
63. WA 24, 382.
64. WA 24,381.
65. TR 2754B. Cf. S0ren Kierkegaard's treatment of this theme in Fear and Trem
bling (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1941).
66. WA 17, II, 201.
67. WA 21, 112.
68. WA 37, 315.
69. WA 24,381.
70. WA 21, 118.
71. WA 5, 163.
72. WA 21, 111; 11,41.
73. WA 21, 111. Cf. "Ein Feste Burg" (1528).
MEDIEVAL CONSOLATION AND THE YOUNG

LUTHER'S DESPAIR (von Rohr)
1. A major exposition of this system, and one with which Luther was acquainted,
appeared in Gabriel Biel, Collectorium in quatuor sententiarum. For contempo
rary analysis of its relation to Luther's early thought see Otto Scheel, Martin
Luther, 3rd and 4th editions (Tubingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1930), II, 442-480. Some
of Luther's own recollections of this "modernist" theology are located in Luther's
Works, Weimar edition (hereafter WA), 2, 401; 21, 324; 38, 160; 45, 153; and
"Tischreden" (hereafter TR), IV, 5135.
2. TR V, 5897.
3. WA 40, 1, 368.
4. WA 40, II, 15.
5. WA 43, 615.
6. WA 26, 12.
7. WA 54, 185.
8. WA 56, 348L
9. WA 1,67.
10. WA 3, 423.
11. WA 40, II, 92.
12. WA 9, 75.
13. TR IV, 4007; II, 1681.
14. WA 40, II, 331.
15. TR I, 141.
16. WA 34, II, 410; 41, 198; 47, 99.
17. WA 22, 305.
18. WA 47, 590.
19. WA 44, 775.
20. WA 38, 148.
21. WA 1, 557.
22. WA 44, 717.
23. In the Commentary on Galatians, printed in 1535, the claim is made that he
confessed daily. WA 40, II, 92, confitebar quotidie. However, it is to be noted
that these words do not appear in RSrer's notes to Luther's lectures of 1531 out
of which the printed commentary, which Luther did not edit, was created. Thus,
one may suppose that this was not Luther's own claim. See Gerhard Schulze,
"Die Vorlesung Luthers fiber den Galaterbrief von 1531 und den gedruckte Kom-
mentar von 1535," Theologische Studien und Kritiken, 1926. Yet, there can be
no question as to Luther's general diligence at confession. The Augustinian Rule
required that one confess at least weekly, and Luther's intense sense of sinfulness
appears to have driven him to the confessional with ever greater frequency.
'
.
24. WA 47, 441.

25. WA 22, 305.
26. WA 43, 537.
27. WA 56, 273.
28. WA 41, 198.
29. WA II, 90.
30. WA 27, 95f.
31. WA 40, II, 15.
32. TR I, 582.
33. WA 43, 537.
34. WA 34, 1, ssf.
35. WA 43, 537.
36. Gabriel Biel, Collectonum in quatuor sententiarum, lib. 3, dist. 27G.
37. For discussions of this question see Emanual Hirsch, "Initium theologiae Lu-
theri," Festgabe fur D. Dr. Julius Kaften (Tubingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1920), 152L,
and Karl Holl, Gesammette Aufsatze (Tubingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1923). Vol. I, 26,
n. 38.
38. WA 44, 486.
39. WA 54, 185.
40. WA 40, II, 15.
41. WA 44, 717.
42. WA 40, II, 41 1f.
43. WA 40, II, 413.
44. See Otto Scheel, "Die Entwicklung Luthers bis zum Abschluss der Vorlesung
iiber den Romerbrief," Schriften des Vereins fur Reformationsgeschichte, XXVII,
1909, 87, and Heinrich Boehmer, Der junge Luther (Gotha: Flamberg Verlag,
1925), 9sf.
45. For a statement from Paltz's Coelifodina, setting forth this point of view, see
A. V. Mflller, Luthers Werdegang bis zum Turmerlebnis (Gotha: F. A. Perthes,
1920), 102.
46. Heinrich Boehmer, op. cit., 96.
47. Karl Holl, op. cit., 24.
48. WA 40, II, 15.
49. WA 1, 321.
50. John Gerson, De remediis contra pusillanimitatem, III, 585C. Here is a descrip
tion of despair very similar to that which Luther knew in his experience with
the sacrament of penance. See Walter Dress, "Gerson und Luther," Zeitschrift
fur Kirchengeschichte, LII, 1933, 155.
51. Ibid., 153.
52. WA 40, II, 412.
53. TR IV, 4362.
54. TR V, 6017.
55. It is true that the claim is made in the first two of these later reflections that
help was derived from this command to hope, and it may indeed be that there
was here some element of consolation and even a stepping stone to the later con
viction of justification by faith. But it is hazardous to attribute too much to
them, for critical study of the passages seems to indicate that at this point they
bear the mark of a later Luther-legend. For a discussion of this see Otto Scheel,
Martin Luther, 3rd and 4th eds. (Tubingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1930), II, 261f. This
legendary element would also seem to be involved in the further incident re
ported by Melanchthon (Corpus Reformatorum VI, 159) where the call to trust
was offered with salutary effect to Luther by an "old man" in conjunction with
the understanding of the article in the Creed dealing with the forgiveness of sins,
the claim being that this even led to Luther's rediscovery of Paul and the Gospel.
Again see Otto Scheel, op. cit., II, 258ft.
56. Walter Dress, loc. cit., 155.
57. Helmut Appel, "Anfechtung und Trost im Spatmittelalter und bei Luther,"
Schriften des Vereins fur Reformationsgeschichte, LVI, Heft 1, 1938, 110, and
Karl Holl, op. cit., 28, n. 2.
58. 77? V, 6017.
59. John Gerson, De perfectione cordis, III, 444C. See Walter Dress, loc. cit., 152.
60. John Gerson, De remediis contra pusillanimitate, III, 588D. See Walter Dress,
loc. cit., 153.
r*
26o REFORMATION STUDIES
61. Ibidem.
62. WA 25, 197.
63. TR IV. 4082.
64. TR II, 1351.
65. WA 1,35.
66. WA 3, 447.
67. TR V, 5897.
68. WA 40, 1, 575.
69. WA 45,681.
70. WA 41, 698.
71. WA 40, 11,414.
72. WA 46, 9.
73. HM 11,44.
74. WA 5, 622.
75. JV/1 17, II, 20.
76. For a discussion of the consolation given by Dambach, Nider, and Gerson to
those who were disturbed by fears of predest1nation, see Helmut Appel, hc. cit.,
29f., 32ft., 54f., 1nf., and 77.
77. For discussions of Staupitz's consolation for predestination-despair see Ernst Wolf,
Staupitz und Luther (Leipzig: M. Heinsius, 1927), 201ft; Ernst Wolf, "Johannes
von Staupitz und die theologische Angange Luthers," Luther-]ahrbuch (Munich:
Chr. Kaiser Verlag, 1929), XI, 64ft.; Erich Vogelsang, Der angefochtene Christus
bei Luther (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter & Co., 1933), 71ft.; and Helmut Appel,
op. cit., 96ft., 1o8ff.
78. Erich Vogelsang, op. cit., 53ft.
79. Thomas Aquinas, Summa theologiae, II, 1, Q. 112, art. 5.
80. A. V. Miiller, op. cit., 103. Paltz's statement is made with regard to man's in
ability to have complete assurance of the sacramental transformation of attrition
into contrition.
81. WA 6,86.
82. WA 38, 153.
83. WA 40, 1, 575.
84. WA 45, 579.
85. WA 40, 1, 587.
LUTHER'S FRONTIER IN HUNGARY (Toth)

1. Bunyitay, Rapaics, Karicsonyi, Egyhdztortinelmi Emlihek (Budapest, 1912), II,
272-274.
2. Ibid., "Cum iam omnibus sit illud in ore: Gratis acceptistis, gratis date."
3. Dec. 10, 1533, ibid., 301-302.
4. Ibid., II, 279-281.
5. Georg Loesche, Luther, Melanchthon und Calvin (Tubingen, 1909), 71-88.
6. William Toth, "The Christianization of the Magyars," Church History, XI,
Mar. 1942, 33-54; cf. Latourette, A History of the Expansion of Christianity: The
Thousand Years of Uncertainty (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1938), 170-174.
7. Jeno Abel, Egyetemeink a kdzipkorban. Our Universities in the Middle Ages
(Budapest, 1881), 4.
8. Alexander Szilagyi, A magyar nemzet tortinete. History of the Hungarian Na
tion (Budapest, 1895-1898), II, 630.
9. Joseph Pokoly, A protestdntizmus hatdsa a magyar dllami iletre. Protestant In
fluence and the Hungarian State (Budapest, 1910), 33f.
10. Michael Horvath, Magyarorszdg tbrtinelme. History of Hungary (Pest, 1871), II,
458; Jeno Abel, op. cit., 22-24.
11. II oman and Szekfii, Magyar tortinet, Hungarian History (Budapest, 1935),
passim.
12. £rdulyhelyi, "Magyarorszagi gorog katholikusok a mohacsi vesz elott," The
Greek Catholics of Hungary Prior to the Catastrophe of Mohacs, Katholikus
Szemle, 1897, 4of.
>
NOTES AND ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 26l
13. Anthony Hodinka, A munkdcsi gorog-katholikus puspoksig tortinete, History

of the Greek Catholic Episcopacy of Munkacs (Budapest, 1909), 19.
14. Bir6, Bucsay, Toth and Varga, A magyar reformdtus egyhdz tortinete, History
of the Hungarian Reformed Church (Budapest, 1949), 26.
15. The content of the Batthyany library, the only private collection of books from
the end of the fifteenth century known to us, 1ncluded the sermons and com
mentaries of Nicolaus de Lyra, the sermons of Geiler Kaiserberg, the complete
works of Gerson, and the De integritate libellus of Wimpheling. The influence
of Lyra upon Luther finds expression in the aphorism, "Si Lyra non lyrasset,
Lutherus non saltasset;" Gerson advocated a predominantly episcopalian polity;
Geiler was known for his sermons in the vernacular, while Wimpheling claimed
that the reform of the church devolved upon the secular authorities in view of
the lethargy of the clergy.
16. Dominic Kosary, History of Hungary (Cleveland and New York: B. Franklin
Bibliophile Society, 1941), 8of.; Bela Pukanszky, A magyarorszdgi nimet iro-
dalom tortinete, History of German Literature in Hungary (Budapest, 1926),
99r.
17. Bir6, et al., ibid., 26; Sermones Pomerii Pelbarti de Temesvar divi ordinis S.
Francisci. Hagenani.
18. Bir6, op. cit., 25; see also Vilmos Frankl, A hazai is kulfoldi iskoldzds a 16. szd-
zadban. Sixteenth Century Education At Home and Abroad (Pest, 1873).
19. Lewis W. Spitz, Conrad Celtis: The German Arch-Humanist (Cambridge: Har
vard University Press, 1957), 55-62.
20. Theodore Thienemann, Mohdcs is Erazmus, Mohacs and Erasmus (Budapest,
1924), 1-65.
21. Jeno Zovanyi, Kisebb dolgozatok a Magyar Protestdntizmus Tortinetinek kS-
ribbl, Essays on Hungarian Protestant History (Sarospatak, 1910), 13.
22. Jeno Solyom, Luther is Magyarorszdg, Luther and Hungary (Budapest, 1933),
18.
23. H6man and Szekfu, op. cit., III, 168f.
24. Michael Horvath, Kisebb Totinelmi Munkdi, Minor Historical Essays (Pest,
1868), 4.
25. Archbishop Thomas Bakacs is said to have gathered together no less than forty
estates, and as the wealthiest lord of the country he kept the court of Louis II
solvent with his loans. See Michael Zsillinszky, Visszapillantds a hazai evang.
egyhdznak XVI. szdzadbeli zsinataira, Synods of the Lutheran Church in the
S1xteenth Century (Pozsony, 1915), 5. Of another prelate, John Horvath of Szepes
the city register recorded that he was bent upon "pecunia, pecunia, tantum
petunia et non iustititia." Gyozo Bruckner, A Reformdczid is ellenreformdcid
tortinete a Szepessigben. The Reformation and Counter-reformation in Szepes
(Budapest, 1922), 31.
26. In 1514 Bishop John Gosztony of Gydr complained that "the church has fallen
into deep ignorance. One can scarcely find a priest anywhere who is able to un
derstand what he recites and sings in the mass." Quoted in Joseph S. Szabo, A
magyar reformdcid Kbnyve, Hungarian Reformation (Debreczen, 1917), 14.
27. Education had so deteriorated that the standards of even the cathedral schools
were no higher than those of the elementary schools, as we gather, passim, in
Vilmos Frankl's book, already cited.
28. Michael Hatvani, Rajzok a magyar tortinelembol. Sketches from Hungarian
History (Pest, 1859), 8-9.
29. Monumenta Vaticana, II Series I. Tom., 133.
30. Louis Neustadt, Georg von Brandenburg in Ungarn (Breslau: T. Schatzky, 1883).
31. Bunyitay, et al., op. cit., I, 143.
32. Burgio wrote: "This country is in no position to defend itself, but is laid open
to the mercy of the enemy. . . . How could it be imagined that it could wage
war against the might of all Islam, when the king and the nobles are unable
even to pay the skeleton army at the frontiers." Quote in Kosary, op. cit., 89.
33. Tommaseo, I, 270, and Sanuto, Diarii, III, 15-23 quoted in Kosary, op. cit., 88-89.
34. F. Myconius, Historia reformations, 1517-1542, ed., Cyprian (Leipzig: M. G.
Weidman, 1718), 23.
35. W. E. Tentzel, Historischer Bericht vom Anfang und ersten Fortgang der Refor-
r^
motion Lutheri (Leipzig: M. G. Weidman, 1718), 374. The propositions were
read by Thomas Preisner from his pulpit at Leibicz near Kesmark in 1520.
36. The Transylvanian historian George Haner, Historia Ecclesiarum Transylvani-
carum, 1694, 147 gives a list of the books imported by the merchants of Szeben.
The list as given in Lampe, Historia Ecclesiae Reformatae in Hungaria et
Transylvania (Trajecti ad Rhenum, 1728), 53 includes the following: De liber-
tate Christiana, Confessione, Poenitentia, Justitia duplici, Baptismo, Passione
Christi, Votis Monasticis, Communione sub utraque specie, Captivitate Bay-
lonica, Expositione Epistolae ad Galatas etc.
37. Vilmos Fraknbi, Werbbczi Istvdn iletrajxa; biography (Budapest, 1899), 160;
Martin Aurel, //. Lajos magyar kbvetsege a wormsi birodalmi gyiUsen. The
Hungarian Delegates of Lou1s II at the Diet of Worms (Budapest, 1926).
39. "Iterum Paulum dixisse, quod haberet magnam copiam librorum lutheranorum,
nee propter eos libros possent eum ense excoriare, quum tamen venduntur pub-
lice." Ibid., I, 169.
40. Ibid., I, 123.
41. "Dogmata, librosque et traditiones eius tenetat." Ibid., I, 189.
42. Alexander Payr, Cordatus Konrdd budai pap, Luther j6 bardtja. Conrad Cor-
datus Preacher at Buda and Friend of Luther (Budapest, 1928).
43. Letter of Burgio, Aug. 25, 1524 to the Archbishop of Carputa, Bunyitay, et al.,
op. cit., I, 148.
44. Imre Molnir, A cenzura tbrtinete Magyarorszdgon 1600-ig. History of Censor
ship in Hungary to 1600 (Budapest, 1912), passim.
45. John Nadanyi, Florus Hungaricus (Amsterdam, 1663), 207.
46. Schmitth, Archiepiscopi Strigonienses (Nagyszombat, 1758), II, 32.
47. Jeno Solyom, ibid., 29I
48. Ede Mihalovicz, A katholikus predikdezio tbrtinete Magyarorszdgon, History of
Catholic Preaching in Hungary (Budapest, 1900), I, 123L
50. Ibid., 141.
51. Ibid., 261.
52. Ibid., 160, 164, 286.
53. "zu predigen das Wort gottes." Ibid., 416.
54. Emma Bartoniek, Mondcs Magyarorszdga, Mohacs and Hungary (Budapest,
1926), 30.
55. "Ma in queste citati di confini ove sono Germani, sono Lutherani assai, che e
gente invida et si deletta di detrahere, non havendo un solo respetto a la ver-
ita." Bunyitay, et al., op. cit., I, 210.
56. Ibid., I, 43, 49, 74, 128.
57. Ibid., I, 141.
58. "Cantilenas quasdam in probrum et contumeliam eiusdem sancte Sedis Apostol-
ice totiusque cleri confingere et ore sacrilege decantare." Ibid., I, 108. One of
them:
Pereant Simones Hypocritae.
Cauponariis lucris squallentes
Meretrices pessimas alentes!
in Fabritius, Pemfflinger Mdrk Szasz Grdf Hide, Biography of Mark Pemfflinger
the Saxon Count (Budapest, 1875), 42.
59. Zovanyi, ibid., 88.
61. Ibid., I, 286.
62. Bela Obal, Az egyhdz is a vdrosok a reformdcio elbtt. The Church and Towns
Before the Reformation (Eperjes, 1914), II, 4.
64. Ibid., I, 548-549.
65. Vilmos Frankl, ibid., 288f.
66. Kosary, ibid., 87.
67. Luthers Werke, Weimar edition (hereafter WA), XIX, 552.
68. At the Diet of Worms he entertained Luther at dinner and presumably tried to
effect a change of mind. Solyom, op. cit., 53f.
69. Zovanyi, op. cit., 24.
70. Fabritius, op. cit., 38.

71. Bartoniek, op. cit., 6.
72. Seckendorf, Commentarius historicus et apologeticus de Lutheranismo (Frank
furt and Leipzig, 1692), I, 61 and Fabritius, ibid., 40.
73. "Omnes Lutheranos et illorum fautores, et factioni ipsi adhaerentes, tanquam
public haereticos, hostesque sacratissimae virginis Mariac, poena capitis, et abla-
tione omnium bonorum suorum, Majestas Regia, velut1 catholicus princeps,
punire digeteur." Imre Revesz, Divay Bird Mdtyds (Pest, 1863), 22.
75. Burgio records in his diary that a delegation of sixty nobles appeared before the
king with a demand to d1smiss all Germans in the court because they were all
Lutherans. Ibid., I, 202.
77. In his work dedicated to the queen Luther reflects: "dass sie—i.e. bishops—auch
Etlicher unschuldig Blut haben vergiesscn lassen, und graulich wider d1e VVahr-
heit Gottes getobet." Quoted in Revesz, op. cit., 24.
78. Vilmos Frakn6i, Magyarorszdg a mohdcsi visz elott. Hungary Before Mohacs
(Budapest, 1884), 206.
80. Nicholas Sinay, A Magyar is Erddlyorszagi Reformdcid Tortinete 1564 -ig. The
Reformation in Hungary and Transylvania Until 1564 (Debreczen, 1911), 164.
81. Ibid., 165.
82. Zsillinszky, A magyar orszdggyiittsek valldsugyi tdrgyaldsai. Religious Affairs and
the Diets (Budapest, 1881), I, 91.
83. Fabritius, op. cit., 1tfit.
84. William Toth, "Highlights of the Hungarian Reformation," Church History,
IX, July 1940, 141-156.
85. Roland H. Bainton, The Reformation of the Sixteenth Century (Boston: The
Beacon Press, 1952), 146.
86. Payr, op. cit., 12.
87. William Toth, The Contribution of Stephen Kis of Szeged to the Trinitarian
Struggle of the Hungarian Reformation, doctoral dissertation under Roland H.
Bainton (Yale University Library, 1941), 31 1f.
88. Solyom, op. cit., 108.
89. WA, 30, II, (198), 205.
90. S6lyom, op. cit., 102f.
91. Bunyitay, et at., op. cit., IV, 277.
92. Payr, op. cit., 9.
93. He informs Jonas Justus, Feb. 16, 1542, "Hungaricas narrationes editypis cura-
vimus." Quote in Payr, op. cit., 9.
94. A letter in the Archives of Bartfa reveals that, at the instance of Katharine the
university attempted to collect the debt. Magyar Szd, Feb. 11, 1904.
95. Many citations from the Tischreden in Solyom, op. cit., 75.
96. Sinay, op. cit., 231
97. Ibid., 222.
98. The most powerful lords, Balint Torek, Peter Perenyi, Thomas Nadasdy, Gas-
part Dragffy, Elek Thurz6 and Gaspard Ser&ii openly patronized or embraced
the new faith.
99. Francis Salamon, Magyarorszdg a Torbk hdditds kordban. Hungary and the
Turkish Era (Budapest, 1864), 328-395.
100. Joseph Pokoly, op. cit., 88.
101. Text in Bruckner, A Confessio Augustana Magyarorszdgi Varidnsai. Hungarian
Variations of the Augustana Confession (Miskolc, 1930), 75!
102. "Anabaptistas et Sacramentarios, iuxta admonitionem Regiae Maiestatis, qui
adhuc in regno supersunt, procul expellendos esse de omnium bonis, Ordines
et Status Regni statuerunt, neckamploius illos, aut quempiam illorum intra
Regni fines esse recipiendos." Vilmos Frakn6i, Magyarorszdggyulisi emlikek.
Documents of the Hungarian Diets (Budapest, 1876), III, 217.
103. "In coena Dominica docemus et credimus verum corpus et sanguinem Domini,
de Virgine natum et in cruce passum, sumi ab Eccles1a." Bruckner, ibid., 70.
104. "Ita, ut in externis dumtaxat rebus aliquam habeamus eligendi libertatem . . .
Sed verum timorem, f1dem ac dilectionem Dei etcaetera praestare: Item Evan-
gelio credere, non est in nostris viribus." Ibid., yst.
THE RELATION OF GODS GRACE TO HIS GLORY

IN JOHN CALVIN (Kuizenga)
1. John Calvin, Commentaries on the Epistles of Paul the Apostle to the Galatians
and Ephesians, trans., William Pringle (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans
Publishing Company, 1948), 206.
2. Calvin, Romans, trans., John Owen, 369.
3. John Calvin, Galatians and Ephesians, 206.
4. Calvin, Isaiah, trans., William Pringle, I, 218.
5. Calvin, Genesis, trans., John King, II, 47.
6. Calvin, Romans, 417; see also 365, and Calvin, Acts of the Apostles, trans., Henry
Beveridge, II, 97.
7. Calvin, Psalms, trans.. Tames Anderson, II, 56.
8. Calvin, Harmony of the Evangelists, Matthew, Mark, and Luke, trans., William
Pringle, III, 201.
9. Calvin, Philippians, Colossians and Thessalonians, trans., John Pringle, 317.
10. John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, trans., John Allen, 7th Ameri
can edition (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1936), III, xxiii, 11 (hereafter
Institutes with numbers of book, chapter, and paragraph).
1 1. Calvin, Romans, 367.
12. Institutes, III, xxiii, 8.
13. Calvin, Gospel According to John, trans., William Pringle, II, 51.
14. Calvin, Isaiah, I, 219.
15. Calvin, Acts of the Apostles, I, 61. This is only another instance where Calvin says
that we sin voluntarily, yet by an inbred bondage, decreed by God from eternity.
16. Calvin, Twelve Minor Prophets, trans., John Owen, Vol. III, 430.
17. John Calvin, Institutes, III, xxxiii, 9. This is perhaps an example of Calvin's
use of what Bauke (Hermann Bauke, Die Probleme der Theologie Calvins, Ver-
lag der J. C. Hendrichs' schen Buchhandlung, Leipzig, 1922) calk the principle
of complexio oppositorum and of the juxtaposition of what Doumergue (E. Dou-
mergue, Jean Calvin, les Hommes et les Choses de Son Temps, ed., George Bridel
and Cie., Lausanne, 7 vols., 1899-1927) refers to as Calvin's contrarieties.
18. Joannis Calvini; Opera Quae Supersunt Omnia, vols. 1-59 in Corpus Reforma-
torum, eds., Guilielmus Baum, Eduardus Cunitz, Eduardus Reuss, Brunsvigae et
Berolinae, Apud C. A. Schwetschke et Filium; vol. 59, col. 766 (hereafter CR with
numbers of vol. and col.).
19. Calvin, Philippians, Colossians, and Thessalonians, 148.
20. Matthew 16:25.
21. Luke 15:7.
22. CR 65, 290.
23. Institutes, III, xxiii, 8.
24. Institutes, III, xxiv, 5.
25. Paul Jacobs, Prddestination und Verantwortlichkeit bei Calvin, Beitrage zur Ge-
schichte und Lehre der Reformierten Kirche, herausgeben von W. Goeters, W.
Wolfhaus, A. Lang, und O. Weber, Erster Band; (Kassel: Buchhandlung des Er-
ziehungsvereins Neukirchen Kr. Moers, 1937), 24. (He cites O. Ritschl, Die Ethik
Calvins, 16, "in der Erwahlungslehre ist Christus wesentlich ausgeschaltet.")
26. Ibid., 73-83, passim.
27. Ibid., 26-27.
28. Ibid., 140.
2g. Karl Barth, Gottes Gnadenwahl, nachgedrucht auf Veranlassung der Ocumen-
ischen Kommission fur die Pastoration der Kriegsgefangenen (Weltbund der
Kirchen) in Verbindung mit der Kriegsgefangenenhilfe des Weltbundes der
Christlichen Vereine Junger Manner (Genf, 1936), 17.
30. Ibid., 19.
31. Ibid., 16.
32. Joannis Calvini, Opera Selecta, ed., Petrus Barth (Miinchen: Chr. Kaiser, 1926),
Vol. I, 109.
33. Calvin, Galatians and Ephesians, 198.
,
34. Arthur Savary, La Predestination CheK Calvin, Imprimd par les Sourds-Muet, J.
Witschy, 1901 , 25.
35. In addition to the earlier citations, to show Calvin's views on this point, there
are the following: "There is, perhaps, no passage in the whole Scripture which il
lustrates in a more striking manner the efficacy of his righteousness; for it shows
. . . that the final cause [of salvation] is the glory of the divine justice and good
ness." Calvin is referring to Romans 3:24 in his commentary on Romans, 141. In
his Psalms, V, 183, he says, "Paul, in speaking of it [mercy] (in Rom. iii, 2s), calls
it emphatically by the general term of the glory of God, intimating, that while
God should be praised for all his works, it is his mercy principally that we should
glorify."
36. Institutes, III, ii, 11.
CALVIN'S THEOLOGICAL METHOD AND THE

AMBIGUITY IN HIS THEOLOGY (Leith)
1. William Adams Brown, "Calvin's Influence upon Theology," Three Addresses

Delivered by Professors in Union Theological Seminary (New York, 1909), 20: "It
is difficult to say anything original about Calvin. . . . There are certain great
thinkers whose systems it is possible to approach in the spirit of the explorer,
conscious as one turns each page, of the chance of some new discovery, but
with Calvin it is not so. What he believed and what he taught has long been a
matter of common knowledge."
2. Karl Barth, Nein! Antxuort an Emil Brunner ("Theologische Existenz heute";
Munchen: Chr. Kaiser, 1934), Heft XIV.
Peter Barth, Das Problem der naturlichen Theologie bei Calvin ("Theologische
Existenz heute"; Munchen: Chr. Kaiser, 1935), Heft XVIII.
Giinter Gloede, Theologia naturalis bei Calvin (Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer,
>935).
3. D. Kromminga, "And the Barthians," The Sovereignty of God, ed., Jacob T.
Hoogstra (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1940), 79-81.
I use the word "traditional" to designate in particular the Calvinism of B. B.
Warfield and of the American Calvinistic Congress. In God-Centered Religion
(Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1942), 19-20, Paul T. Fuhrmann uses the word
"classical" to designate not only Amer1can Calvinism of the above type but also
the French Calvinism of Doumergue and Pannier. While these types of Calvinism
have many similarities, it is also true that the French interpretation has been
more liberal than that of the American Calvinistic Congress.
4. Jacques Pannier, Recherches sur la Formation InteUectuelle de Calvin (Paris:
Alcan, 1931).
Wilhelm Niesel, "Calvin und Luther," Reformierte Kirchenzeitung, LXXXI
(193O. «95ff.
5. Reinhold Seeberg, Lehrbuch der Dogmengeschichte, TV (Leipzig: A. Deichert,
1920), Heft 2,613.
Peter Barth, "Calvin," Die Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart (Tubingen:
J. C. B. Mohr, 1927).
Also cf. Eugene Choisy, La Thiocratie a Gen&ve au Temps de Calvin (Geneve: C.
Eggimann & Cie, 1897), with Wilhelm Niesel, Die Theologie Calvins (Munchen:
Chr. Kaiser, 1938).
6. Georgia Harkness, John Calvin, the Man and His Ethics (New York: Henry Holt
and Company, 1931), 66 and 87.
7. Hermann Bauke, Die Probleme der Theologie Calvins (Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichs,
1922).
8. Martin Schulze, Meditatio futurae vitae: ihr BegrtfJ und ihre beherrschende
Stellung im System Calvins (Leipzig: T. Weicher, 1901).
9. D. J. Kdstlin, "Calvin's Institutio nach Form und Inhalt," Theologische Sludien
und Kritiken, XLI (1868).
10. Emile Doumergue, Le caractere de Calvin (Paris: Editions de foi et vie, 1921), 47.
11. For example, see Corpus Reformatorum: Joannis Calvini Opera Quae Supersunt
Omnia (hereafter CR), ed. by Guilielmus Baum, Eduardus Cunitz, and Eduardus
Reuss (Brunsvigae: C. A. Schwetschke et Filium, 1863-1897), V, 196; XXIII, 26-27;
XLIX, 560; see also Institutes of the Christian Religion, III, xxv, 1 (hereafter In
stitutes with numbers of book, chapter, and paragraph).
12. CR XLVIII, 415.
13. CR XLIII, 428-429.
14. CR XXXVI, 89.
15. CR XL, 84.
16. CR XXXVI, 129.
17. Institutes, III, fi, 1; see also CR XLIII, 550; XLIV, 160; XLIV, 163; XLVIII, 88;
XLIX, 272; LII, 256, 424.
18. CR XLIII, 428.
19. CR XLVII, 316.
20. CR XXVII, 244-245, 250, 434.
21. CR VIII, 476.
22. CR XXIX, 143.
23. CR XIV, 590.
24. CR XI, 188ff.
25. CR VIII, 306-307, 318.
26. Peter Barth, ed., Joannis Calvini, Opera Selecta (Munchen: Chr. Kaiser Verlag,
1926), 1:391.
27. CR LI, 269.
28. CR VIII, 95; LI, 147; LVIII, 49-50.
29. Institutes, III, xxi, 5.
30. CR XXIV, 363.
31. Compare Peter Barth: "Was ist reformierte Ethik?" Zwischen den Zeiten, Vol. X,
1932 with E. Choisy: La théocratie à Genève au temps de Calvin (Genève: C. Eg-
gimann & Cie., 1897).
32. Wilhelm Niesel: The Theology of Calvin, trans., Harold Knight (Philadelphia:
The Westminster Press, 1956). For an example of a balanced study of a theologi
cal problem in which the evidence is diverse see Edward Dowey's discussion of
the object of the knowledge of faith, Edward A. Dowey, Jr., The Knowledge of
God in Calvin's Theology (New York: Columbia University Press, 1952), 161ff.
33. CR VIII, 395; XXVIII, 303, 547.
34. CR IX, 823.
35. CR IX, 815.
36. CR XXXVI, 507; Institutes, III, xxi, 3.
37. CR XLIX, 460-461.
38. CR XLVIII, 439.
39. For a tabulation of Calvin's use of Scripture see John T. McNeill: "The Sig
nificance of the Word of God For Calvin" in Church History, Vol. XXVIII, no.
2, June 1959, 135. Also Henri Clavier Études sur la Calvinisme (Paris: Fisch-
bacher, 1936), Appendix 4.
40. CR Xrv, 382.
41. CR XXVII, 253: "Et auiourd'huy quand les Papistes diront qu'il faut punir les
heretiques; cela est vray, nous confessons qu'ils le meritent. Mais cependant il
falloit venir à cest article qui est ici contenu: c'est assavoir que nous ayons cogneu
quel est le Dieu auquel nous servons, que nous soyons bien asseurez que ce n'est
point à l'aventure que nostre religion a esté publiee: mais que nous tenons la
verité infallible que Dieu nous a envoyée, et qu'on nous l'annonce en son nom,
et en son authorité: que c'est en luy que nostre foy est fondée. Il nous falloit
(di-ie) là venir. Or les Papistes s'abrutissent là dessus, qu'il leur semble qu'en se
fermant les yeux ils pourront executer leur rage, et furie contre les innocens."
In assessing the significance of this statement, it must be remembered that much
of Calvin's theology proclaims the impotence of force in religious matters.
42. CR XXI, 170.
43. Emil Brunner, The Divine-Human Encounter, trans., Amandus W. Loos (Phila
delphia: The Westminster Press, 1943), 123-126; Gustaf Aulén, The Faith of the
Christian Church, trans., Eric H. Wahlstrom and G. Everett Arden (Philadelphia:
The Muhlenberg Press, 1948), pp. 94-105.
LEFEVRE d'fiTAPLES: THREE PHASES OF HIS LIFE

AND WORK (Brush)
1. G. V. Jourdan, The Movement Towards Catholic Reform in the Early Sixteenth

Century (New York: E. P. Dutton and Co., 1914), 79.
2. A. Renaudet, Humanisme et Renaissance (Geneve: E. Droz, 1958), 201. On 202,
Renaudet helpfully sums up the whole problem of putting Lefevre together into
a consistent whole.
3. C. H. Graf, Essai sur la Vie et les £crits de Jacques Lefevre d'Etaples (These)
(Strasbourg: Schuler, 1842). And later, K. H. Graf, "Jacobus Stapulensis, ein
Beitrag zur Geschichte der Reformation in Frankreich," in Zeitschrift fur die
historische Theologie (Hamburg and Gotha: Perthes, 1852), 3-86, 165-237.
4. A. Renaudet, PrMforme et Humanisme a Paris, 1494-1517 (Paris: E. Champion,
1916).
5. R. R. Bolgar, The Classical Heritage and Its Beneficiaries (Cambridge: University
Press, 1954), 437.
6. Dialogues of Alfred North Whitehead, recorded by Lucien Price (Boston: Little,
Brown and Company, 1954), 168.
7. Bertrand Russell, A History of Western Philosophy (New York: Simon and
Schuster, 1945), 472-474, in brief sheds light on the misinterpretations of Aris
totle that made Lefevre's work so desirable.
8. Renaudet, Pririforme, etc., 146.
9. Imbart de la Tour, L'£glise Catholique: la crise et la renaissance (Paris: Libraire
d'Argences, 2nd ed., 1946), 390.
10. Renaudet, Humanisme, etc, 203.
11. W. J. Bouwsma, The Career and Thought of Guillaume Postel (Cambridge: Har
vard University Press, 1957). See Index on Lefevre.
12. See F. Hahn, "Faber Stapulensis und Luther," in Zeitschrift fur Kirchengeschichte
(Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer, 1938), vol. 57, 400-404, for detailed study of this
quasi-Joachite theme in Lefevre.
13. J. B. Ross and M. M. McLaughlin, The Portable Renaissance Reader (New York:
Viking Press, 1958), 84-86, from Lefevre's Commentarii initiatorii in iv evangeliis
praefatio (Meaux, 1522); trans., M. M. M.
14. Ibid., 85.
15. Bouelles, In artem oppositorum introductio (Paris: W. Hopyl, 24 Dec. 1501), in
4; Bibl. de Schlettstadt. 208 (7). Quoted Renaudet, op. cit., 411-412.
16. See Letters of Ignatius, "To the Ephesians," 192, and "To the Magnesians," 82.
17. See Pseudo-Dionysius: De Div. Nom. ch. xi.
18. Gal. 2:20; I Cor. 1:18-25; " Gor. 12:1-4.
19. Pseudo-Dionysius, op. cit., ch. viii, 3.
20. See the strik1ng imagery of Cusa in Of Learned Ignorance, trans., Fr. G. Heron
(London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1954), 161-162. This passage is also quoted
on 673 of The Portable Medieval Reader, Ross and McLaughlin, eds. (New York:
Viking Press, 1949).
21. Faber Stapulensis, Episiolae Divi Pauli Apostoli (Paris: Henri Estienne, 1512),
269a.
22. Commentarii initiatorii in quatuor Evangelia (Meaux: Colines, 1522), 76b.
23. Ibid., 52b.
24. See recent work: R. J. Lovy, Les Origines de la Riforme francaise, Meaux 1518-
1546 (Paris: Librairie protestante, 1959).
25. M. Mann, £rasme et les dibuts de la riforme francaise, 1517-1536 (Paris: H.
Champion, E. Champion, 1933), 66.
26. Ibid., 47.
27. A. L. Herminjard, Correspondence des riformateurs dans les pays de langue
francaise (Geneve: H. Georg, 1866), 1, 132-138, 159-169.
28. "The standard French version of Jacques Lefevre (1512 to 1523-1527) was revised
by Lou vain theologians and passed through forty editions down to the year 1700."
Cambridge Modern History (New York: The Macmillan Co., 902), I, 640.
29. A. Renaudet, trasme et I'ltalie (Geneva: E. Droz, 1954), 34.
K
30. Renaudet, Humanisme, etc, 210 and f.n. 4.

31. The phrase comes from W. R. Inge.
32. See the diagram, for example, of interlacing circles illustrative of the theme of
center-and-circumference, in Lefevre's meditation on Psalm 119:63. It is on 175
of my own copy of the 1509 Quincuplex Psalterium, but the pages hereabouts are
badly numbered. Hahn, 362, reproduces the diagram and comments help
fully on it. His reading of the pagination is 184^1858. May I also here refer the
reader to Arthur O. Lovejoy, The Great Chain of Being (Cambridge: Harvard
University Press, 1936), Ch. Ill, on "The Chain of Being and Some Internal Con
flicts in Medieval Thought." When Lovejoy writes, "God's 'love' ... in medieval
writers consists primarily rather in the creative or generative than in the re
demptive or providential off1ce of deity . . ." p. 67, what better support could
we find for the basic difference between Lefevre on God, as over against Luther
and Calvin on God?
33. Quincuplex Psalterium, op. cit., 140a.
34. Ibid., 200a.
35. Hahn, op. cit., 358.
36. "amore 1nebrians." Commentarii initiatorii, 128a, 130a.
37. At this point and later, I am in debt to H. Dorries, "Calvin und Lefevre," in
Zeitschnft fur Kirchengeschichte (Gotha: Verlag Perthes, 1925). vol. xliv, 544-581.
On 553, he sees the imitation of Christ as the guiding idea of Lefevre's ethic.
38. Commentarii initiatorii, 21b.
39. S. Hahn, 432, sums up Luther's debt to Lefevre on Bible interpretation.
40. Calvini: Opera. Corpus Reformatorum, Baum, Cunitz, and Reuss, eds. (Strass-
burg, 1863), 123.
41. John T. McNeill, The History and Character of Calvinism (New York: Oxford
University Press, Inc., 1954), 113-115.
42. Francois Wendel, Calvin, Sources et Evolution de sa pensie rtligieuse (Paris:
Presses Universitaires de France, 1950), 95.
43. Though only tangential to our study, I have found helpful hints on this in P.
Jourda, Marguerite d'Angoultme (Paris: H. Champion, 1930).
44. Calvin: Institutes, I, xiv (Philadelphia: Presbyterian Board of Christian Educa
tion, 1932), Vol. I, 154. Luther's blast against Dionysius, near the end of his "The
Babylonian Captivity of the Church," 1520, could also be usefully quoted, but it
is doubtless more generally familiar.
45. Revue d'historie et de philosophic riligieuses (Strasbourg: Presses Universitaires
de France, 1955), no. 4, 444. This article, by Jean-Michel Hornus, may be found
useful for a review of over twenty years of Pseudo-Dionysian studies.
46. Imbart de la Tour, L'£vangelisme, 1;21-15}8 (Paris: Didot, 1914), 289.
CONTINENTAL PROTESTANTISM AND

ELIZABETHAN ANGLICISM (Krumm)
1. Zurich Letters (Cambridge: University Press, 1842), I, 23.
2. Cf. letter to Matthias Flacius Illyricus, July 18, 1566, in Correspondence of Mat
thew Parker (Cambridge: University Press, 1853), 287. Cf. also J. Strype, The Life
and Acts of Matthew Parker (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1821), IV, 8, 343-344 and
ibid., II, 3, 78.
3. J. Strype, Life and Acts of John Whitgift (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1822), Vol. I,
90, Bk. I, ch. 7, sec 44.
4. A. F. Scott Pearson, Thomas Cartwright and Elizabethan Puritanism (Cambridge:
University Press, 1925), 33.
5. Zurich Letters (Cambridge: University Press, 1845), II, 154-156.
6. J. Strype, Parker, II, 110, Bk. IV, ch. 9, sec 348.
7. Quoted in F. Schickler, Les £glises du Refuge en Angleterre (Paris: Fischbacher,
1892). I, 243.
8. Pearson, op. cit., 54, f.n. 1.
9. Strype, Whitgift, Vol. I, 106, Bk. I, ch. 9, sec. 52. Strype cites places where Cart-
wright contradicts Pellican, Bucer, Bullinger, Illyricus, Musculus, Luther, Mar
tyr, and Gualter.
10. Ibid., II, 79-80, Bk. IV, ch. 5, sec. 65.

11. Richard Bancroft, A Survey of the Pretended Holy Discipline (London: R.
Hodgkinson, 1663), 14.
12. Ibid., 21.
13. Ibid., 31.
14. Quoted in Strype, Whitgift, II, 158, Bk. IV, ch. 10, sec 405.
15. Bancroft, op. cit., 38.
16. Ibid., 41.
17. Strype, Whitgift, II, 208, Bk. IV, ch. 12, sec. 425.
18. Ibid., II, 62, Bk. IV, ch. 4, sec. 356.
19. Ibid., II, 64-65, Bk. IV, ch. 4, sec. 357.
21. Ibid., II, 229, Bk. IV, ch. 14, sec 435.
23. Cf. H. C. Porter, Reformation and Reaction in Tudor Cambridge (Cambridge:
University Press, 1958), 347-349. Porter sees nothing conspiratorial in the avoid
ance of Whitgift's authority, for he writes, "The heads had assumed that Whit-
gift's judgment on the theological points at issue would be firmly against Barret
and in favour of the Calvinist interpretation, as expounded by Some and Whit-
aker" (page 350). Porter gives no evidence, however, for the judgment that the
Calvinist party anticipated Whitgift's support. In view of his role in the Cart-
wright discussions, Whitgift could scarcely be counted as a strong supporter of
any kind of strict Calvinist line.
28. Cf. Porter, op. cit., 358-359. Whitgift plainly believed that much of the Barret
controversy was in the realm of theological Adiaphora. One of his letters to
Burleigh expressed Whitgift's tolerance in clear terms, "Some of the points where
with they charged him [Barret] and which they had caused him to recant (with
out either your Lordship's knowledge or mine) were such as the best learned
protestants now living varied in judgment upon them." J. Whitgift, Works, I,
436. Quoted Porter, op. cit., 350.
29. Cf. P. M. Dawley, John Whitgift and the English Reformation (New York:
Charles Scribner's Sons, 1954), 220-221. Professor Dawley, representing an effort
to paint Elizabethan Angl1canism in a predominantly Catholic light, claims "The
controversy bewildered Whitgift. He d1d not understand the theological cleavage
between the churchmen with whom he surrounded himself and the Cambridge
Heads" (p. 220). A complete reading of Whitgift's references to Continental
Protestantism, however, suggests that it was not so much bewilderment as a
genuine appreciation of many of the theological positions both of Luther and
Calvin that led Whitgift to the kind of mediating position which we have been
noticing.
30. Strype, op. cit., II, 228, lists the following as strongly favoring Calvin, and im
plying that the others were more of Barret and Baro's point of view: Whitaker
of St. John's College; Goad, Provost of Kings; Tyndal, Master of Queens; Duport
of Jesus; Barwel of Christ's; Some of Peter-house; and Chaderton of Emanuel.
After this listing Strype says, "For among the rest that liked not Calvin's scheme,
William Barret etc."
31. Pearson, op. cit., 416.
32. Cf. W. H. Frere, The English Church in the Reigns of Elizabeth and James I
(New York: The Macmillan Co., 1904), 79. "The Lambeth Articles, though they
now seem to be an extreme statement, were, in fact, a compromise."
36. Strype, Whitgift, II, 290, Bk. IV, ch. 17, sec. 466. The word "generally" is to be
understood as meaning "universally" as opposed to just the elect.
r
27° REFORMATION STUDIES
40. For a detailed description of Baro's manuscript cf. Porter, op. cit., 386-389.
41. Strype, Whitgift, I, 126, Bk. I, ch. 2, sec. 62.
42. Ibid., 1, 490, Bk. III, ch. 17, sec 257.
44. Bancroft, op. cit., 141.
45. Ibid., 65.
46. Ibid., 356.
47. T. Bilson, The Perpetual Government etc. (London: Christopher Barker, 1593),
281. Calvin's views on episcopacy were treated in an article "Calvin et l'episcopat.
L'episcopat element organique de l'eglise dans le calvinisme integral," by J.
Pannier in Revue d'histoire et de Philosophic Riligieuses, July-August 1946,
quoted in F. J. Smithen, Continental Protestantism and the English Reformation
(London: James Clarke & Co., 1927), 145. According to this article all Calvin was
contending against was the theory that " . . . il y a difference d'essence entre
l'eveque et les pretres soumis a son autoriteV'
48. J. Whitgift, Works, I, 266.
49. Strype, Whitgift, I, 494-495, Bk. III, ch. 17, sec. 259-260.
50. Ibid., II, 165, Bk. IV, ch. 10, sec. 408. Letter dated 1593.
52. Bilson, op. cit., 355.
53. Strype, Whitgift, I, 279, Bk. III, ch. 10, sec. 192.
54. University Archives, Registry Guard Books, vol. 6 (i), no. 18. Quoted in Porter,
op. cit., 144-145.
55. Quoted in Hensley Henson, The Relation of the Church of England to the Other
Reformed Churches (Edinburgh: W. Blackwood & Sons, 1911), 15.
56. Whitgift, Works, I, 185. Whitgift here is paraphrasing Calvin with entire ap
proval. Pearson says Cartwright was actually not far from this same point of
view, holding that Presbyterianism was enjo1ned in Scripture but holding that
it was not of the "esse" of the Church but of the "bene esse." It was on this
ground that he withstood the Separatists (cf. A. E. S. Pearson, Thomas Cartwright
etc., 218).
57. Quoted in F. Schickler, Les £glises, etc., 243.
58. Strype, Whitgift, I, 480, Bk. Ill, ch. 16, sec. 252. This is simply a note made by
Whitgift on Travers' appeal to Burghley. It was intended for Burghley's eyes
only.
59. Ibid., I, 480.
60. H. M. Gwatkin, Church and State in England to the Death of Queen Anne (New
York: Longmans, Green & Co., 1917), 264.
61. Strype, Whitgift, I, 559, Bk. III, ch. 21, sec. 292.
65. Y. Brilioth, The Anglican Revival (London: Longmans, Green & Co., 1933), 3.
66. Ibid., 4.
NEW LIGHT ON BUTZERS SIGNIFICANCE (Littell)
1. E. C. Messenger, The Lutheran Origin of the Anglican Ordinal (London: Burns,

Oates and Washbourne, 1934). The title of this work is misleading, for to refer
to Butzer as "a German Lutheran" is to misunderstand his stance in the Refor
mation and to underestimate his very considerable originality.
2. Friedrich Wilhelm Kantzenbach, Das Ringen um die Einheit der Kirche im
Jahrhundert der Reformation (Stuttgart: Evang. Verlagswerk, 1957), Ch. IV.
3. Messenger, op. cit., 42-47.
4. Cf. Constant1n Hopf, Martin Bucer and the English Reformation (Oxford: Basil
Blackwell, 1946), Ch. V, on Butzer's differences with Stephen Gardiner.
5. G. J. Van de Poll, Martin Bucer's Liturgical Ideas (Assen: Van Gorcum & Comp.
N. V., 1954). 78.
6. In Gunther Franz, et al., Urkundliche Qucllen zur hessischen Reformations-
f: IV: Wiedertäuferakten, 1527-1626 (Marburg: N. G. Elwert'sche Ver

agsbuchhandlung, 1951); Veröffentlichungen der Historischen Kommission für
Hessen und Waldeck, Vol. XI, no. 77,213-237.
REASON AND CONVERSION IN THE THOUGHT

OF MELANCHTHON (Manschreck) -
. Charles L. Hill, trans., The Loci Communes of Philip Melanchthon (Boston:

Meador Publishing Company, 1944), 64 (hereafter Loci).
. Loci, 64-65.
. Loci, 70.
i .
.
7.
Loci, 70-71.
Loci, 107.
. Corpus Reformatorum, Melanchthon Opera, eds., Bretschneider and Bindseil,
28 vols., 1834-1860; vol. 11:398, 55 (hereafter CR).
Apology of the Augsburg Confession, trans. by Henry E. Jacobs in The Book of
Concord ºdelphia. United Lutheran Publishing House, 1883), I, 67 (here
after Apology).
8. CR 2:507.
. CR 1:105, 398.
. Philipp Melanchthon's Werke, F. A. Keothe, ed. (Leipzig. F. A. Brockhaus,
1829), V, Uses of Philosophy.
11. CR 11:278ff.
12. Uses of Philosophy.
13. Ibidem.
14. Cf. Franz Hildebrandt, Melanchthon: Alien or Ally? (Cambridge: University
Press, 1946); Karl Hartfelder, Philipp Melanchthon als Praeceptor Germaniae
(Berlin: A. Hoffman & Co., 1889); K. Steiff, Der erste Buchdruck in Tübingen
(Tübingen, 1881).
. Uses of Philosophy.
. Loci, 82-85, 95, 101.
. Loci, 83.
. Loci, 216.
. Loci, 86, 196.
. Loci, 86.
. Loci, 87.
. Loci, 86.
. Loci, 89.
. Loci, 99-101.
. Loci, 69f.
. Loci, 196f., 208.
. Loci, 261, 202-204.
. Loci, 188.
. Loci, 171.
. Loci, 176.
. Loci, 177, 184.
. Loci, 72ff.
. Loci, 234, 259f.
Loci, 81.
. Loci, 72ff, 16off.
. Loci, 16off.
. Loci, 193ff.
. Loci, 197,235.
. Loci, 202-203. Cf. 261.
. Loci, 208.
. Loci, 112. Cf. Rom. 2:15.
. Loci, 227f.
. Loci, 113-180.
272 REFORMATION studies
44. Loci, 131ff.

45. Loci, 74, 154. Cf. Liber de Anima and Erotemata Dialectices.
46. Loci, 154ff., 235ff.
47. Reinhold Seeberg, Dogmengeschichte, II, 349. Cf. Augsburg Confession, art. 18;
J. W. Richard, Lutheran Quarterly, ### 1907, 198.
48. CR 13:656.
49. Commentary on Colossians; cf. Lutheran Quarterly, XXXV, 1905, 77-89.
50. Ibid., Excursus on the Will.
51. Cf. Lutheran Quarterly, XXXVII, 1907, 198.
52. Lic, th: Herrlinger, Die Theologie Melanchthons (Gotha: Friedrich A. Perthes,
1879), 73.
53. CR 24:43.
54. CR 1:893; 2:457. - - -
55. CR 10:302. W. M. L. de Witte, ed., Martin Luthers Briefe (Berlin, 1825-28), 5

vols., 1:305; 2:557; 4:17. Tischreden, Luthers Werke, Weimar edition, 3:3589.
3695; 5:5511, 5647, 5781, 5787, 5827, 6439, 6458, etc. Cf. CR 1:898; 3:383; 7:356;
9:7031.
56. Cf. Apology, 96. Rom. 3:24, 28; Eph. 2:8.
57. Apology, 76, 79.
58. Apology, 105.
59. Apology, 94, 103.
60. Apology, 139,282.
61. Apology, 206.
62. Apology, 98.
63. Apology, 94.
64. Apology, 1oo.
65. Apology, 91.
66. Apology, 94.
67. Apology, 144.
68. Apology, 97.
69. Apology, 132.
70. Apology, 79.
71. Apology, 85.
72. Apology, 133,115.
73. Apology, 228.
74. Apology, 123.
75. Apology, 79,85, 89f., 94, 96,103, 167, 206.
76. Apology, 162ff.
77. Apology, 164.
78. Apology, 86f.
79. Apology, 87, 89, 105.
80. Apology, 89,139.
81. Apology, 168.
82. Apology, 169.
83. Apology, 173, 169.
84. Apology, 169.
85. Apology, 222-226.
86. Apology, 227.
87. Apology, 227ff.
88. Apology, 228.
89. Apology, 227f.
90. Apology, 228.
91. Apology, 230.
92. Apology, 231.
93. Apology, 91, 104, 109, 113, 115, 140, 183,227.
94. Apology, 116.
95. CR 23:179. - - - - -
96. F. Galle, Versuch einer Charakeristik Melanchthons als. Theologen (Halle: Lip
pert, 1840), 291-294. Cf. Herrlinger, op. cit.
97. CR .#%
98. CR 21:271 ff. Cf. CR 25:438; 9:467f.
99. CR 21:376.
100. CR 21:377.
101. Cf. Loci (1533). CR 21:330.
102. CR 13:162. Lutheran Quarterly, XXXV, July 1905, 303-345.
103. Cf. Balthaser, Andere Sammlung zur Pommerischen Kirchen-Historie, 116ff. CR
9:766; 15:544, 680; 16:198; 21:656, 330, 761, 891.
104. CR 21:647; 372. Cf. Lutheran Quarterly, XXXVII, 1907, 309ft.
105. Cf. CR 15:678ft.
106. Loci (1559). CR 21. Cf. C. B. Gohdes, The Lutheran Church Review, XXVIII,
July 1909. 325-337, Oct., 551-64.
107. CR 22:417.
108. CR 5:109; 7:932; 8:916; 9:467!, 766; 25:438. Lutheran Quarterly, XXXV, July
1905, 303-45.
109. CR 1:898; 3:383; 7:356; 9:763! Cf. Mix, Theologische Studien und Kritiken,
1901.
1 10. Cf. Lutheran Quarterly, XXXVII, 1907, 309-310.
111. CR 9:605.
112. CR 11:305.
113. CR 1:772; 10:101.
114. CR 11:106f., 875.
115. CR 11:279!, 489!
116. CR 11:666.
117. CR 11:107.
118. CR 1:666; 11:130,605; 20:391.
119. CR 11:289ft., 445.
120. CR 7:472.
THE STRANGERS' "MODEL CHURCHES"

IN SIXTEENTH-CENTURY ENGLAND (Norwood)
1. Original Letters Relative to the English Reformation (Cambridge: University

Press, 1846), 17. Cf. Hugh Latimer, Sermons (Cambridge: University Press, 1844),
141, the 3rd sermon.
2. John Strype, Ecclesiastical Memorials (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1822), II (1), 321.
3. Two of the best books on Laski are: Hermann Dalton, John a Lasco (London:
Hodder and Stoughton, 1886); George Pascal, Jean de Lasco (Paris, 1894, 304P.).
See also Oskar Barrel, Jan Laski (Warszawa, 1955—, Wyd. I), in Polish; Karl
Hein, Die Sakramentslehre des Johannes a Lasco (Berlin, 1904, 188p.); Thcodor
Wotschke, "Zum Lebensbilde I.askis," Archiv fur Reformationsgeschtchte, XXXI,
1911, 233-45. See below for bibliography of works by Laski (n. 30-32).
4. Pascal, 216.
5. John Strype, Memorials of Archbishop Cranmer (Oxford: Ecclesiastical Historical
Society, 1848, 3 vols.), Ill, appendix no. 105.
6. The two most important secondary works dealing with these refugee communi
ties are: A. A. van Schelven, De Nederduitsche Vluchtelingenkerken der XVIe
Eeuu1 in Engeland en Duitschland (s'Gravenhage: Martinus Nijhoff, 1909, 455p.);
Fernand de Schickler, Les Aglises du Refuge en Angleterre (Paris: Fischbacher,
1892, 3 vols.). See also Marten Woudstra, De Hollandsche Vreemdelingen-Ge-
meente te Londen (Groningen, 1908, 155P.); John S. Burn, History of the French,
Walloon, Dutch Refugees (London: Longmans, Green & Co., 1846, 284D.). Much
valuable material is to be found in the Publications and Proceedings of the Hu
guenot Society of London. For Austin Friars see J. Lindeboom, Austin Friars; His
tory of the Dutch Reformed Church in London, 1550-1050 (The Hague: Martinus
Nijhoff, 1950, 2o8p.). An early history, useful as near source material, is Symeon
Ruytinck, et a/., Geschiedenissen ende Handelingen die vornemelick aengaen de
Nederduytsche Natie ende Gemeynten, wonende in Engelant ende int bysonder tot
Londen (Utrecht, 1873, 515P.; Werken der Marnix-Vereeniging, Ser. III, Deel I).
Prime source material, but not directly useful for this study, is J. H. Hessels, ed.,
Ecclesiae Londino-Batavae Archivum (Cambridge, Eng., 1889 ft., 3 vols, in 4). For
economic factors see Frederick A. Norwood, The Reformation Refugees as an
■
Economic Force (Chicago: The American Society of Church History, 1942, 2o6p.).
7. Strype, Memorials of Cranmer, II, 270.
8. Li rule boom gives the full text in Latin and English as an appendix, pp. 198-203.
Cf. among others Pascal, 220; Ruytinck, 12ft The passage reads: "vt per totum
rei publico corpus casta sinceraque religio diffundatur et ecclesia in uere chris
tians et apostolicis opinionibus et riiibus instituta et adulta per sanctos ac carni
et mundo mortuos ministros conseruetur."
9. ". . . eo intencione et proposito vt a tninistris ecclesie Germanorum aliorumque
peregrinorum Sacrosancti Euangelij incorrupta interpretacio sacramentorum
1uxta verbum Dei et apostolicam obscrvacioncm administracio fiat ..."
10. Martin Flandrus (Micronius), Walter Loenus (Delaenus), Francis Riverius (Riv-
ius), Richard Gallus (Vauville).
11. Lindeboom, 202.
12. George B. Beeman, "The Early History of the Strangers' Church, 1550 to 1561,"
Huguenot Society of London, Proceedings, XV, 1933-1937, 267.
13. Original Letters, 567-568.
14. Utenhove to Calvin, Aug. 23, 1550. Corpus Reformatorum, XLI (Calvini Opera,
XIII), 627, "imo plura nobis hie esse permissa quam ipsi postulaverimus." And
further: "In quo verbum pure populo proponere ac sacramenta ex institutione
Christi Domini sine superstitione aliqua administrare licet. Disciplina quoque
ecclesiastica ex verbo De1 nobis est permissa."
15. Quoted in Burn, 186. Micronius listed in a letter to Bullinger "Arians, Marcion-
ists, Libertines, Danists, and the like monstrosities, in great number" (Original
Letters, 560). Cf. also F. Pijper, Jan Utenhove (Leiden: A. H. Adrian, 1883, 256,
94p.), 62f.; Schelven, 66.
16. Forma ac Ratio tota Ecclesiastici Ministerij, in peregrinorum, potissimum uero
Germanorum Ecclesia, instituta Londini in Anglia (Frankfurt, 1555). A modern
edition is in Laski's works, edited by A. Kuyper, Joannis a Lasco Opera tarn
Edita quam Inedita (Amstelodami: Fr. Muller, 1866, 2 vols.), II, 1-284.
17. Laski, Forma ac Ratio, Dedication to King Sigismund of Poland, in Laski, Opera,
II, 10, "Huius igitur hortatu eum ego quoque per Regem ilium vocatus essem et
leges quaedam patriae obstarent, quominus publici potissimum cultus divini ritus,
sub Papismo usurpati, pro eo ac Rex ipse cupiebat repurgari protinus possent—
ego vero pro Peregrinorum Ecclesiis sedulo instarem—1ta demum placuit, ut ritus
publici in Anglicis Ecclesiis per gradus quosdam, quantum per leges patriae om-
nino liceret, repurgarentur: Peregrinis vero hominibus, qui patriis hac alioqui
in parte legibus non usque adeo tenerentur, Ecclesiae concederentur, in quibus
omnia libere et nulla rituum patriorum habita ratione, iuxta doctrinam duntaxat
atque observationem Apostolicam instituerentur; ita enim fore, ut Anglicae
quoque Ecclesiae ad puritatem Apostolicam amplectendam unanimi omnium
rcgni ordinum consensu excitarentur."
18. Schelven, 67, writes, ". . . de gadachte om door een modelkerk een voorbeeld te
geven voor de reformatie der Engelsche kerk." Cf. Schickler, I, 31.
19. Apr. 26, 1549, Original Letters, 535-536.
20. Jan. 28, 1551, ibid., 488.
21. Schelven, 78-79.
22. Ibid., 69. Cf. Pijper, 66ff.
23. Micronius to Bullinger, Aug. 28, 1550, Original Letters, 569, given as of 31st. See
also 575.
24. Letter to Cecil, in Laski, Opera, II, 672.
25. Schickler, I, s.jfT.
26. Strype, Memorials of Cranmer, II, 280.
27. Micronius to Bullinger, Feb. 18, 1553, Original Letters, 581.
28. Lindeboom, 33.
29. Cf. discussion in ibid., 24.
30. A. Kuyper, ed. (Amstelodami, 1866, 2 vols.). The first volume contains an exten
sive introduction in Latin to the Laski literature, together with the dogmatic
and polemic works. The second volume, more important for this study, has the
liturgical and symbolic works.
31. A good copy of this rare work is kept in the Rare Book Room of the Newberry
Library, Chicago. The title page does not give the place and date. It is small in
format, but contains altogether 792 pages in three separate numerations. The
Dedication to Sigismund, King of Poland, occupies 86 pages. This work is to be

found in the Opera, II, 1-284.
32. Compendium Doctrinae de Vera unicaque Dei et Christi Ecclesia (London, 1551),
interleaved with Een kort Begrijp der Leeringhe van de warachtige ende eenighe
Ghemeynte Gods ende Christi (London, 1551; Emden, 1565), 285-339; De Cate-
chismus, oft Kinder leere (London, 1551), with Latin translation, 340-475; Een
korte Ondersoeckinge des Gheloofs (the short catechism, London, 1553; Emden,
1558). with Latin, 476-92; Catechismus effte Kinderlehre (Emden catechism, Em
den, 1554), with Latin, 495-543; Epistolae, 547-766. No French translations of
these catechisms were made because the French already had the catechism of
Calvin.
33. Copies of this are said to exist at the Bodleian in Oxford and in the French Li
brary of St. Martin in London (Huguenot Society?). Cf. Laski, Opera, I, cii ff. of
the Introduction.
34. Laski, Opera, I, Ixxviii. Cf. Lindeboom, 16; Schickler, 1, 37.
35. Schelven, 73, "Dit Compendium doctrinae is a. h. w. een apologie, waarin de kerk
als geheel, redeneerend vanuit het wezcn der Christelijke Kerk, aantoonen wil,
dat ze rechtens optreedt zooals ze doet. Meer dan een confessie is het een bewijs,
waardoor ze zick legitimeert."
36. Laski, Opera, II, 289-90.
37. Ibid., II, 294-295. The Dutch version, "Daerom de Kercke of Ghemeynte Gods, is
de vergaderinghe der gener, die wt de gantsche menichte aller mensche, door de
stemme Gods, hem tot een eyghen Volck geroepen wert."
38. Ibid. "Primum, ut non sane humana ulla, sed ipsius Dei voce atque autoritate,
evocetur et colligatur." "Ten eersten, datse niet door eenigher menschen stemme,
maar door de stemme ende Autoriteyt Gods, wtgeroepen ende vergadert zy."
39. Ibid., II, 296-97. "Ende dit is de warachtighe Kercke of Ghemeynte Gods, de
welcke wtgeroepen is by de stemme Gods, door de Enghelen, de Propheten, ende
Christum de Heere, als der eerster aller Regeerder, ende syne Apostelen, in een
Vergaderinge ende Volck, dat hem eyghen is."
40. Ibid., II, 330-333.
41. Ibid., II, 300.
42. Ibid., II, 306.
43. Schickler, I, 55.
44. Laski, Opera, I, 97-232.
45. Ibid., I, 128.
46. Pascal, 230.
47. Laski, Opera, II, 50.
48. Schelven, 80.
50. Ibid., II, 58.
51. Ibid., II, 328f.
52. Ibid., II, 330-331: "Ut Christi Domini institutiones in tota Ecclesia pure fideliter
ac reverenter observari curcnt, eosque puniant, qui illas, aut temere negligunt,
aut adulterant, aut abolere conantur." "Dat sy besorgen, dat alle Instellingen
Christi des Heeren, reynlick, getrouwelick en weerdelick onderhouden wesen,
ende straffen alle de gene, die deselue verachten, verualschen, of onderstaen te
niet brenghen."
53. Micronius to Bullinger, Oct. 13, 1550, Original Letters, 570.
56. Information on the French consistory, mainly from the early Elizabethan period
is found in Elsie Johnston, ed., Actes du consistoire de l'£glise franfaise de
Threadneedle Street, Londres, Vol. I, 1560-1565 (London: Huguenot Society of
London, 1937), 150.
57. Laski, Opera, II, 65, where the mode is described.
58. Ibid., II, 6oiF.
59. Ibid., II, 81ff.
60. Ibid., II, 82.
61. Woudstra, 141-147, gives examples in the original Dutch; cf. Pijper, 77ft.
'
64. John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, Bk. IV, ch. xii, paragraph 1.
66. Ibid., II, «36ft.
67. Ibid., II, 170, "Disciplina Ecclcsiastica est certa quaedam e scripturis petita ratio
observandi gradatim Christianas admonitiones ex verbo Dei inter fratres invicem
omnes in Ecclesia Christi, ut et corpus universum singulaque illius membra in
suo officio, quoad eius fieri, potest, contineantur,—et, si qui in ilia deprehendan-
tur obstinati admonitionum istiusmodi contemptores, ut Satanac ad cxtremum per
excommunicationem tradantur, si quo modo per talem pudefactionem e caro in
illius interire, quod ad adeems illius attinet et spiritus ita demum revocari ad re-
sipiscentiam a proinde servari etiam possit." On Bucer's Gemeinschaften see Wer
ner Bellardi, Die Geschichte der "Christlichen Gemeinschaften" in Strassburg
(I5<f6-1550) (Leipzig: M. Heinsius Nachf., 1934, 217p., Quellen und Forschungen
fur Rerormationsgeschichte, Bd. 18), especially 113, where he emphasizes Bucer's
influence on the London Freiwilligkeitskirche.
68. Schelven, 94, quoting Micronius.
69. Laski, Opera, II, 101-105.
70. Schelven, 86.
71. Utenhove to Bullinger, Nov. 7, 1551. Original Letters, 587.
72. Cf. Woudstra, 98-128; Schelven, 83. Woudstra says the London Dutch church was
called "mater et propagatrix omnium Reformatorum Ecclesiarum Belgicarum."
73. Micronius to Bull1nger, Nov. 7, 1551, Original Letters, 578.
74. Albert Pollard, Thomas Cranmer (New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1904, 399P.).
269-270.
75. Ibid., 216.
76. Strype, Ecclesiastical Memorials, II (1), 377, 399; II (2), 33; Memorials of Cran
mer, II, 201-204, 279-280.
77. Strype, Ecclesiastical Memorials, II, 35. Micronius' work of 1552, Van het Nacht-
mael Christi ende van de Misse, had slight influence, if any (in Cramer & Pijper,
eds., Bibliotheca Reformatoria Neerlandica (M. Nijhoff: The Hague, 1905-1914),
IX; cf. I, 428).
78. Peter Martyr to Bullinger, Mar. 8, 1552; and Micronius to Bullinger, Mar. 9,
1552, Original Letters, 503, 580. Pascal, 231.
79. Strype, Memorials of Cranmer, II, 201-204. See also M. M. Knappen, Tudor Puri
tanism (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1939, 555 p.), 97.
80. Hooper to Bullinger, Aug. 1, 1551, Original Letters, 95; Strype, Ecclesiastical Me
mor1als, II (1), 399, II (2), 444ft.; Schickler, I, 54; Pascal, 224-225.
81. Calvin to Edward VI, Jan. 1, 1551, Original Letters, p. 709. Utenhove also called
him "our Josiah" (Simplex et Fidelis Narratio de instituta ac demum dissipata
Belgarum, aliorumque peregrinorum in Anglia Ecclesia (Basel, 1560, 6).
SECTARIANISM AND SKEPTICISM: THE STRANGE

ALLIES OF RELIGIOUS LIBERTY (Beach)
1. Among his first published monographs are: "The Development and Consistency
of Luther's Attitude to Religious Liberty," The Harvard Theological Review,
XXII, 2 (April, 1929), and "Sebastian Castellio and the Toleration Controversy
of the Sixteenth Century," in Persecution and Liberty, Essays in Honor of
George Lincoln Burr (New York: The Century Co., 1931).
«. Cf., J. B. Bury, A History of Freedom of Thought (New York: Henry Holt and
Company, 1913); W. E. H. Lecky, History of the Rise and Influence of the Spirit
of Rationalism in Europe (New York: D. Appleton and Co., 1873).
3. Roland H. Bainton, The Travail of Religious Liberty (Philadelphia: The West
minster Press, 1951), 253-254; cf. 13-14.
4. Ibid., 254.
5. Bainton, "The Struggle for Religious Liberty," Church History, Vol. X, no. 2,
June 1941, 1 i,
6. Ibid., 19-20. Also The Travail of Religious Liberty, op. cit., 258. The accuracy of
Troeltsch's typology is not qualified by the fact that there are frequent mixtures
of church-type and sect-type, or churches in migration from one to the other.
7. See especially Thomas Lyon: The Theory of Religious Liberty in England, 1603-
1600 (Cambridge: The University Press, 1937), who delineates two main types of tol-
erationists, on the one hand, those whose lives are conditioned by the passionate
conviction that they are in possession of known and ascertained truth, for whom
"toleration is not an end, but a means to a great light" (p.2), and on the other
hand, the tolerationists "who are sceptical about human beliefs being efficacious
towards salvation per se," and for whom "truth is not so absolute, still less so as
certained, that a man should be damned for an error which he sincerely believes
to be true" (p. 4). Cf. Francisco Ruffini, Religious Liberty (London: Williams &
Norgate, 1912).
8. Bainton, The Travail of Religious Liberty, op. cit., 59.
9. Bainton, "Sebastian Castellio and the Toleration Controversy of the Sixteenth
Century," in Persecution and Liberty, 201.
10. Bainton regards Erasmus as a composite of "humanism" and "mysticism" (The
Travail of Religious Liberty, op. cit., 57-59). The case is made more easily for the
former than the latter.
11. Wallace Ferguson, "The Attitude of Erasmus Toward Toleration," in Persecu
tion and Liberty, 172. See also Joseph LeCler, Histoire de la Tolerance au Siecle
de la Riforme, Vol. I, 133-149 (Paris: Aubier, 1955).
12. Ferguson, op. cit., 178.
1$. Quoted in Bainton, The Travail of Religious Liberty, op. cit., 58.
14. Ibid., 135.
15. Ibid. See LeCler, I, 221-226. Also Johannes Kiihn, Tolerant und Offenbarung
(Leipzig: Felix Meiner, 1923).
17. See Sebastian Castellio, Concerning Heretics, translated and edited by Roland H.
Bainton (New York: Columbia University Press, 1935).
18. Sections of the argument of this treatise, Bainton makes available in ibid.. 287-
307. See also Bainton, "New Documents on Early Protestant Rationalism,"
Church History, VII, 2, June 1938. Also, LeCler, I, 340ft.
19. Castellio, op. cit., 299.
20. Ibid.
21. Ibid., 301.
23. The literature on the toleration controversy in this period is mountainous. Tracts
on Liberty in the Puritan Revolution, edited by William Haller, 3 vols. (New
York: Columbia University Press, 1934), provides facsimiles of original texts. For
synopses of the positions of the many disputants and schools, W. K. Jordan's 4
vols, on The Development of Religious Toleration in England (Cambridge: Har
vard University Press, 1933-1946) is the most valuable. For interpretation, Wil
liam Haller, Liberty and Reformation in the Puritan Revolution (New York:
Columbia University Press, 1955), Geoffrey Nuttall, The Holy Spirit in Puritan
Faith and Experience (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1946), and T. Lyon, The Theory
of Religious Liberty in England, 1603-1630 (Cambridge: The University Press,
1937) are penetrating. Treatments of individual thinkers like Hooker, Chilling-
worth, Milton, Locke, Penn, Williams, etc., are manifold. Michael Freund, Die
Idee der Toleranz im England der Grossen Revolution (Halle: M. Niemeyer,
1927), and Johannes Kiihn, op. cit., are also useful.
24. W. Chillingworth, Works (Philadelphia, 1844 ed). >8.
25. Thomas Browne, Religio Medici (New York: E. P. Dutton & Co., Inc., 1906), 7.
26. Jeremy Taylor, Liberty of Prophesying; Works, Heber ed. (London, 1839), vol.
vi, preface, ccccvi. Cf. Freund, op. cit., 43.
27. See Haller, op. cit.; Tracts on Liberty of Conscience (London: Hansard Knollys
Society, 1846); and William L. Lumpkin, Baptist Confessions of Faith (Philadel
phia: Judson Press, 1959).
28. Allen, J. W., English Political Thought, 1603-1660, Vol. I (London, 1938), 200-228.
The wording of the Savoy Declaration on liberty of conscience is instructive:
"God alone is Lord of the conscience, and hath left it free from the doctrines
and commandments of men, which are in anything contrary to his Word, or not
contained in it; so that to believe such doctrines, or to obey such commands out
of conscience, is to betray true liberty of conscience." Phil1p Schaff, The Creeds
of Christendom (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1877), Vol. III, 719.
29. Leonard Busher, Religion's Peace, or a Plea for Liberty of Conscience (in Hansard
Knollys Society, Tracts), 78.
30. Bainton, The Travail of Religious Liberty, op. cit., Chs. VII, VIII, and IX.
31. Haller, Liberty and Reformation in the Puritan Revolution, 185.
32. Roger Williams, The Bloudy Tenent of Persecution (London: Hansard Knollys
Society, 1848), preface.
34. John Locke, Letters on Toleration (London: A. Millar, 1765), 38.
35. See John Locke, Essay Concerning Human Understanding, Bk. IV, ch. 18.
36. Locke, Letters on Toleration, 93. Cf. A. A. Seaton, The Theory of Toleration
under the Later Stuarts (Cambridge: University Press, 191 1), Ch. IV.
37. Locke, Letters on Toleration, 60.
38. Anson Phelps Stokes, Church and State in the United States (New York: Harper
& Brothers, 1950), Vol. I, 334.
39. Stokes, op. cit., I, 333-339. See Norman Cousins, In God We Trust: the Religious
Beliefs and Ideas of the American Founding Fathers (New York: Harper & Broth
ers, 1958), ch. 5.
40. Quoted in Stokes, op. cit., 335. He does not always remain consistent on this
point, for in another instance he related political resistance to theological foun
dations. "Resistance to tyranny is obedience to God."
41. Bill for Establishing Religious Freedom.
42. Stokes, op. cit., 337-338. See also Cousins, op. cit., 132, 139, 151.
43. Stokes, op. cit., I, 373.
44. Ibid., 374.
45. Ib1d., 335.
46. It is in this same letter that Jefferson uses this famous and much controverted
phrase.
48. J. D. Dawson, Separate Church and State Now (New York: Richard R. Smith,
1948). Appendix B, A Manifesto, 209. The current president of POAU is Mr.
Louie D. Newton, noted Baptist preacher and one-time president of the Southern
Baptist Convention.
49. The writings of Paul Blanshard, Communism, Democracy, and Catholic Power
(Boston: The Beacon Press, 1951); American Freedom and Catholic Power (rev.
ed., Boston: The Beacon Press, 1958); God and Man in Washington (Boston: The
Beacon Press, 1960) are typical, as is Horace M. Kallen, Secularism is the Will of
God (New York: Twayne Publishers, Inc., 1954).
50. Among those supporting the case of Mrs. Vashti McCollum, who protested re
ligious instruction for her son in Champaign, Illinois, were the American Unitar
ian Association, the American Ethical Union, the Ethical Culture Society, the
Southern Baptist Convention. Vashti McCollum: One Woman's Fight (New York,
1951), 165. See also Waldo Beach, "A Protestant Position on the Church-State
Issue," Religion in Life, XXIII, 2, Spring 1954.
AUGSBURG AND THE EARLY ANABAPTISTS (Schwab)
1. Friedrich Roth, Augsburgs Reformationsgeschichte, 1;17-1;jo, I (Munich: Thdr.

Ackermann, 1901), 219-221, passim. "He was a disciple of Karlstadt in the Sup
per." J. F. Gerhard Goeters, Ludwig Hatzer (ca. 1;oo-1;2p) Spiritualist und Anti-
trinitarier. Eine Randfigur der friihen Taufcrbewegung (Karlsruhe: Heinrich
Schneider, 1957), 66.
2. Goeters, op. cit., 60-66, passim, "Hatzcr hat allerdings in den Konventikeln den
Grundstein zur spateren Augsburger Taufergemeinde gelegt."
3. Gerhard Goeters, "Haetzer, Ludwig," Mennonite Encyclopedia, II (Scottdale:
Herald Press, 1956), 623.
4. This act seems anomalous; at least it was not customary practice. There is no
record that Hatzer ever administered it except on this occasion in Regensburg.

Ibid., 624.
5. Gerhard Goetcrs, "Ludwig Haetzer, A Marginal Anabaptist," The Mennonite
Quarterly Review, XXIX, no. 4, Oct. 1955, 259. Goeters, "Haetzer, Ludwig," Men
nonite Encyclopedia, II, 624-625.
6. R. J. Smithson, The Anabaptists: Their Contribution to Our Protestant Heritage
(London: James Clarke & Co., 1935), 57.
7. Johann Loserth, "Hubmaier, Balthasar," The Mennonite Encyclopedia, II (Scott-
dale, 1956), 827.
8. Walter Fellmann, Das Leben Dencks (Giitersloh: C. Bertelsmann Verlag, 1956),
Quellen und Forschungen zur Reformationsgeschichte, XXIV, pt. 2, 8-19, 12.
9. Loserth, loc. cit., 828.
10. Ibid., 833.
11. Goeters, "Ludwig Hatzer (ca. 1500-1529) Spiritualist und Antitrinitarier," Men
nonite Encyclopedia, II, 111.
12. Jan J. Kiwiet, "The Life of Hans Denck (ca. 1500-1527)," The Mennonite Quar
terly Review, XXXI, no. 4, Oct. 1957, 233.
13. Ibid., 245. Denck was a follower of Thomas Miinzer theologically but not in radi
cal social reforms; Hans Hut was essentially eschatological and not lastingly sym
pathetic with Miinzer's revolutionary social reforms. Jan J. Kiwiet, Pilgram Mar-
beck, Ein Fuhrer in der Tauferbewegung der Reformationszeit (Kassel: J. G.
Oncken Verlag, 1957), 43.
14. Roth, op. cit., I, 57-175, passim.
15. Kiwiet, "The Life of Hans Denck," 243-253, loc. cit.
16. W. F. Neff, "Denk (Denck), Hans," The Mennonite Encyclopedia, II, 35.
17. Christian Meyer, "Die Anfange des WiedertSuferthums in Augsburg," Zeitschrift
des Historischen Vereins fur Schwaben und Neuberg (Augsburg, 1874), I, 229;
cross-examination of Oct. 5, 1527.
18. R. F. Loserth, "Hut (Hutt, Huth, Huet), Hans," The Mennonite Encyclopedia,
II, 846, citing a Council of Nurnberg poster of Nov. 26, 1527.
19. Roland H. Bainton, The Travail of Religious Liberty (Philadelphia: The West
minster Press, 1951), 62-63.
20. Loserth, "Hut, Hans," 849; Meyer, op. cit., 211-212.
21. Meyer, op. cit., 212.
22. Goeters, Ludwig Hatzer (ca. 1500-1529) Spiritualist und Antitrinitarier, 112.
23. Loserth, "Hut, Hans," 847.
24. Franklin Hamlin Littell, The Anabaptist View of the Church (Boston: Beacon
Press, 1958), 124.
25. John Christian Wenger, Glimpses of Mennonite History and Doctrine (Scottdalc:
Herald Press, 1947), 33.
26. Harry Emerson Fosdick, ed., "The Schleitheim Confession of Faith" art. 1, Great
Voices of the Reformation, An Anthology (New York: Random House, 1952),
288.
27. Kiwiet, Pilgram Marbeck, 43-45, cites Sebastian Franck's description of the Stras
bourg Anabaptists. After having described the small group of Sattler Swiss Ana
baptists, Franck says: "Die andern und fast all/ halten man mog die warheyt wol
mit eyd bezeugen / so es die lieb erfordert oder den Glauben betrifft /. Ziehen
hier auff vil leren und exempel beyder Testament /. Der meynung ist aud1
Joannes Denck gewesen. Dise lassen auch die Oberkeyt Christen seyn / so sy nach
dem bevelch Gottes handlcn / und billiche auch die notwiihr und Krieg / so man
nit freventlich / sunder auss not und gehorsam fiir sich nemen musz." Chronica,
Zeitbuch, und Geschichtsbibell, 1536, 2 aufl., Bd. 3, 197.
28. Henry C. Vedder, Balthasar Hubmaier, The Leader of the Anabaptists (New
York: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1905), 142.
29. "hab tauffer geredt: 'so knie niderl', und hab im auss ainem hillzin geschirr ain
wasser mit der handt auff den kopf gossen im namen des vattern, des suns und
des hailligen gaists." Friedrich Roth, "Zur Lebensgeschichte Eitelhans Langen-
mantels von Augsburg," Zeitschrift des Historischen Vereins fur Schwaben und
Neuburg (Augsburg, 1900), 26; "Er, tauffer, gesagt: 'so nem buess und lass dich
tauffen.' darauf er im ain wasser auff den kopf gossen und getaufft." Ibid, 27.
30. Littell, op. cit., 159.
31. Paul Josiah Schwab, The Attitude of Wolfgang Musculus Toward Religious Tol
erance (Scottdale: Mennonite Press, 1933), 44-46.
32. Loserth, "Hut, Hans," 847. Meyer, loc. cit., 218, says that from now on Hut gave
his most constructive messages. Riwiet, Pilgram Marbeck, 43, says "Fur Hut war
die eschatologische Botschaft das Zentrum seiner Predigt; die sozialen und revo-
lutionaren Reformen eines Thomas MOnzers lehnte er aber ab."
33. Christian Hege, "Augsburg," The Mennonite Encyclopedia, I, 183.
34. Loserth, "Hut, Hans," 848.
35. This "Biichlein" contained a catechism, a prayer before meals, and a concord
ance with 78 items. It is published in Roth, "Zur Lebens," 3aff.
36. Loserth, "Hut, Hans," 849, quoting Geschichtsbuch; Roth, Aug. Ref. I, 239; Hege,
"Augsburg."
37. Roth, Aug. Ref. I, 225. Meyer, op. cit., 213, is followed by Loserth and others in
mistakenly identifying Langenmantel's father as Hansen Langenmantel who was
14 times elected mayor of Augsburg and was a Hauptmann in the Swabian
League. Roth frequently refers to Meyer's history but intentionally differs from
the tatter's statements about the parentage.
38. Roth, "Zur Lebens," 3-4.
39. Roth, Aug. Ref. I, 260, n. 26.
40. Ibid., 264, n. 90, citing Kiliam Lieb's Annalen as printed in John Jos. Ignaz von
Dollinger Beitrage zur politischen, kirchlichen und Cultur-Geschicht des sechs
letzten Jahrhunaerte; Bd. II, Materialen zur Geschichte des fUnfzehnten und
sechszehnten Jahrhunderts (Regensburg, 1863), G. J. Manz, 517.
41. Hege, "Augsburg," 185, says he was baptized in February. Langenmantel after his
1528 arrest testified in cross-examination that he was baptized by Hut the same
night as his servant Hermann Anwaldt, Roth, "Zur Lebens," 11. Anwaldt in his
testimony said he was baptized by Hut on Shrove Tuesday. As Easter Sunday in
1527 fell on Apr. 21, the baptism took place Mar. 5.
42. John C. Wenger, "The Biblicism of the Anabaptists," The Recovery of the Ana
baptist Vision, Guy F. Hershberger, ed. (Scottdale: Herald Press, 1957), 167.
43. Johann Loserth, "Langenmantel, Eitelhans (Hans)," The Mennonite Encyclo
pedia, III, 289-290.
44. Roth, Aug. Ref. I, 230-231.
45. Roth, "Zur Lebens," 5.
46. Ibid., 7.
47. Other exiled Augsburg leaders did this also, but especially the "Capitanier der
Ketzer" Langenmantel, Widholz, Gall Fischer, Scheppach, and Kissling. Friedrich
Roth, "Der Hohepunkt der WiedertSuferischen Bewegung in Augsburg und ihr
Niedergang im Jahre 1528," Zeitschrift des Historischen Vereins fUr Schwaben
und Neuberg (Augsburg, 1901), 4.
48. Meyer, op. cit., 214-215; Roth, "Zur Lebens," 8-9.
49. Roth, op. cit., 16.
50. Ibid., 9-29.
51. Ibid., 15.
52. /bid., 21.
53. Ibid.,*i.
54. Ibid., 23.
55. Ibid., 12.
56. Ibid., 9.
57. Roth, Aug. Ref. I, 270-271. He names Jorigen Wieland, his brother-in-law, and
Matheus Langenmantel, son of Hansen Langenmantel, famous Augsburg mayor.
58. Roth, "Zur Lebens," 42-44.
59. Christian Hege and Harold S. Bender, "Martyrs' Synod," The Mennonite Ency
clopedia, III, 530-531.
60. Ibid., 530.
62. Kiwiet, "The Life of Hans Denck," 254-256, passim.
63. Friedrich Hermann Schubert, "Die Reformation in Augsburg," Augusta 955-1955
(Augsburg: Hermann Rinn, 1955), 290; Roth, Aug. Ref. I, 231, cites Sender in giv
ing the number as "achthundert Seelen."
64. Kiwiet, op. cit., 254-256.
NOTES AND ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 28 1
65. Roth, Aug. Ref. I, 234, and Meyer, 213, say it was Aug. 25.
66. The min1sters received 4 guilders per sermon; Conrad Peutinger was paid 100
guilders for conducting the examinations. Hege, "Augsburg," 184.
67. Roth, Aug. Ref. I, 231-237, passim.
68. Ibid., 237-239, passim.
69. Roth, "Der Hohepunkt," 3.
70. Schubert, op. cit., 291.
71. "At Easter 1528, when the congregation was at its largest." "The Life of Hans
Denck," 255.
73. Meyer, 251.
75. Ibid., 256; Hege, "Augsburg," 185.
76. Christian Hege, "Dorfbrunner, Leonhard," The Mennonite Encyclopedia, II, 93,
says he started his work in Sept., but in his "Augsburg," I, 184, Hege has him re
turning Nov. 10, 1527. Roth, Aug. Ref. I, 244, uses the Nov. date.
77. Roth, "Der Hohepunkt," 7-8; Christian Hege, "Nespiuer (Nospitzer), Georg,"
The Mennonite Encyclopedia, III (Scottdale, 1957), 824.
79. Ibid., 247-250, passim.
81. Roth, Aug. Ref. I, 251, specifically says that any talk of twelve or more involves
those executed by imperial order in 1530 and by other authorities in Augsburg's
vicinity.
83. Hege, "Augsburg," 185.
84. Littell, op. cit., 24, also note 1 19, 172 citing John C. Wenger et al.
85. H. W. Bender, "Marpeck (Marbeck), Pilgram," The Mennonite Encyclopedia, III,
492 -
87. Ibidem.
88. Bender, 500. Henry Hege, "Augsburg," The Mennonite Encyclopedia, I, 185, sug
gests some possible reasons for this patience: (1) The Rat may have relaxed its
proscription of the Anabaptists; (2) Marpeck may have refrained from preaching
and promoting within the city; (3) Marpeck's services as an engineer may have
been so valuable that the authorities winked at his activities.
89. Wenger, op. cit., 173, 177.
BERNHARD ROTHMANN'S VIEWS ON

THE EARLY CHURCH (Wray)
1. Cf. Canons and Decrees of the Council of Trent, 33rd Session, July 1;, 1563, in
P. Schaff, Creeds of Christendom, II (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1919), 186ff.
2. Cf. Franklin H. Littell, The Anabaptist View of the Church, 2nd ed. (Boston:
Beacon Press, 1958); Frank J. Wray, "The Anabaptist Doctrine of the Restitution
of the Church," Mennonite Quarterly Review, XXVIII, no. 3, July 1954, 186ff.
and "The 'Vermanung" of 1542 and Rothmann's 'Bekentnisse,' " Archiv fur Refor-
mationsgeschichte, 1956, Jahrg. 47, Heft 2, 248f.
3. Heinrich Detmer and Robert Krumbholtz, eds., Zwei Schriften des Munsterischen
Wiedertaufers Bernhard Rothmann (Dortmund: Fr. Wilhelm Ruhfus, 1904), 1-84.
4. Ibid., 81.
5. Ibid., 80-81.
6. Ibid., 10-11, 17, 59.
7. Ibid., 24, 26-27, 50, 70-72.
8. Ibid., 28.
9. Ibid., 4.
10. Ibid., 17.
. Ibid., 21-27, 33.

. Ibid., 36.
. Ibid., 52.
. Ibid., 5, 30.
. Ibid., 59.
. Ibid., 62.
. Chronica, Zeytbuch und Geschychtbibel (Strassburg: Balthassar Beck, 1531), fol.
495.
. Detmer and Krumbholtz, op.cit., 70-72.
. Ibid., 13-14.
. Ibid., 51-52.
. Ibid., 39.
. Ibid., 28-29.
. Ibid., 72.
. Ibid., 30.
. Ibid., 61.
. Ibid., 51.
. Ibid., 72.
. Ibid., 43-44.
. Andreas Knaake, ed., Flugschriften aus der Reformationszeit, VII (Neudrucke
deutscher Litteraturwerke des XVI und XVII Jahrhunderts, no. 77 u. 78) (Halle,
1888).
. Ibid., 49.
. “The Rise and Fall of the Anabaptists of Münster," Mennonite Quarterly Re
view, IX, no. 3, July 1935, 132-133.
.. Knaake, op. cit., 41.
Ibidem. op 4
. Ibid., 44.
. Ibid., 70-71.
. Ibid., 74-75.
. Ibid., 12-13.
. Ibid., 13.
. Detmer and Krumbholtz, op. cit., 2, 41.
. Knaake, op. cit., 14.
. Ibid., 17.
. Ibid., 6-11.
. Ibid., 26, 92, 1oo.
. Ibid., 18, 95-96.
. Ibid., 109-11o.
. Ibid., 15, 92.
. Ibid., 9, 21-25.
. Ibid., 86-87.
. Ibid., 84.
. K. W. Bouterwek, ed., in Zeitschrift des Bergischen Geschichtsvereins, I (Bonn,
1863), 345-359.
. Ibid., 349.
. Ibid., 347-348.
. Ibid., 351-852.
. Ibid., 347.
. Ibid., 359.
. Ibid., 347.
. K. W. H. Hochhuth, ed., Bernhard Rothmanns Schriften, I (Gotha, 1857).
. Ibid., 7, 16.
. Ibid., 47-48.
. Ibid., 49.
. Probably a reference to Luke 22:36.
. Hochhuth, op. cit., 73-74.
. Ibid., 50, 57.
Ibid., 1o.
. Ibid., 76.
. Ibid., 1o.
. Ibid., 43.
68. Detmer and Krumbholtz, op. cit., 86-129.

69. Ibid., 110.
FECUND PROBLEMS OF ESCHATOLOGICAL HOPE,

ELECTION PROOF, AND SOCIAL REVOLT IN
THOMAS MONTZER (Zuck)
1. Heinrich Boehmer, in "Thomas Miintzer und das jiingste Deutschland" in

Gesammelte Aufsdtze (Gotha: F. A. Perthes A.G., 1927), 221.
2. Robert Friedmann, in "Thomas Miintzer's Relation to Anabaptism," in Men-
nonite Quarterly Review, XXXI, no. 2, Apr. 1957, 85, notes that Miintzer re
mained to the end of his life a priest-preacher both in Allstedt and in Muhl-
hausen city churches, and hence never actually opposed an institution of that
kind. Another article in this school is by Harold Bender, "The Zwickau Proph
ets, Thomas Miintzer, and the Anabaptists," in Theologische Zeitschrift, VIII,
July-Aug. 1952, 262, and Mennonite Quarterly Review, XXVII, no. 1, Jan. 1953, 3.
3. The Soviet historian M. M. Smirin has had his Marxist interpretation of
Miintzer, first published in Moscow, translated and published in East Ger
many as Die Volksreformation des Thomas Milnzer und der grosse Bauern-
krieg (Berlin: Dietz Verlag, 1956). Smirin based his work largely on Frederick
Engels" work of 1850, translated as The Peasant War in Germany (Moscow: For
eign Languages Publishing House, 1956). A similar work is by Alfred Meusel,
Thomas Miintzer und seine Zeit mit einer Auswahl der Dokumente des grossen
deutschen Bauernkrieges (Berlin: Aufbau-Verlag, 1952), while Smirin's Russian
colleague, O. G. Tschaikowskaja denies the revolutionary character of the peas
ant movement, in "Vaprosy istorii," 12/1956, 129-143. Another Russian, A. D. Ep-
stejn, attempts to mediate between Smirin and Tschaikowskaja by calling the
Peasants' War in Germany the "first bourgeois revolution," in "Vaprosy istorii,"
8/1957, 118-142. See references to this discussion in Gerhard Zschaebitz, Zur
mitteldeutschen Wiedertduferbewegung nach dem grossen Bauernkrieg (Berlin:
Riittcn & Loening, 1958), 166, a well-balanced East German work.
4. Miintzer's first biography, published at Hagenau in 1526, was by a bitter op
ponent (Melanchthon?) and not altogether reliable: "Historie Thomae Muentz-
ers, des Anfengers der Doeringischen Uffruhr, sehr nutzlich zu lesen," reprinted in
Otto Brandt, Thomas Miintzer. Sein Leben und seine Schriften (Jena: Eugen
Diedrichs Verlag, 1933), 38-50. J. R. Seidemann published the first of the modern
lives of Miintzer: Thomas Muenzer (Dresden: Arnoldsche Buchh., 1842).
5. Seidemann, 4-5.
6. Karl Holl, "Luther und die Schwarmer," in Gesammelte Aufsdtze zur Kirchen-
geschichte (Tubingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1923), I, 420-467. For an interpretation of
Miintzer as an enthusiast, consult K. G. Steck, Luther und die Schwarmer (Zurich:
Evangelischer Verlag-Zollikon, 1955). A more recent consideration of Miintzer's
pedigree is "Luther and Thomas Miintzer," by E. Gordon Rupp, in Luther To
day, by R. H. Bainton, W. A. Quanbeck, E. G. Rupp (Decorah, Iowa: Luther
College Press, 1957), 129-146. Annemarie Lohmann, of Boehmer's school, pub
lished a fine genetic study of Miintzer's development, Zur geistigen Entwicklung
Thomas Miintzer's (Leipzig: B. G. Teubner, 1932). Other relevant works are by
H. Kamnitzer, Zur Vorgeschichte des deutschen Bauernkrieges (Berlin: Riittcn &
Loening, 1953), K. Kupisch, Feinde Luthers (Berlin: Lettner-Verlag, 1951), and
H. Gerdes, "Der Weg des Glaubens bei Miintzer und Luther," in Mitteilungen
der Luther Gesellschaft (Berlin: Luthcrisches Verlagshaus, 1955).
7. Roland H. Bainton, The Reformation of the Sixteenth Century (Boston: The
Beacon Press, 1952), 66-67.
8. Martin Luther, "Letter to the Princes of Saxony Concerning the Rebellious
Spirit," in Luther's Works (Philadelphia: Muhlenberg Press, 1958), XL, 52.
9. Marcus Wagner, Einfeltigen Bericht Wie durch Nicolaum Storcken die Auffruhr
in Thuringen angefangen sey warden (Erfurt, 1597), 23a. See references to Storch
in Paul Wappler, "Thomas Miinzer in Zwickau und die Zwickauer Propheten"

(Wissenschaftliche Beilage zu dem Jahresberichte des Realgymnasiums m1t Real-
schule zu Zwickau, Zwickau, 1908), 30.
10. See Lohmann, 16. Consult also E Sommer, Die Sendung Thomas Munzers,
Taboritentum und Bauernkrieg in Deutschland (Berlin: Aufbau Verlag, 1948).
11. The four versions are included in Heinrich Boehmer and Paul Kirn, Thomas
Miintzers Briefwechsel (Leipzig: B. G. Teubner, 1931).
12. Miintzers liturgical works include: Deutsch Kirchenamt (Allstedt, 1523), and
Deutsch evangelisch Messe (Allstedt, 1524). See Oskar J. Mehl's summary,
"Thomas Miintzer als Liturgiker," in Theologische Literaturzeitung, Feb. 1951,
76, and, in more detail, Mehl, Thomas Miintzers Deutsche Messen und Kirchen-
amter, 1939. Also, R. Herrmann, Thomas Miintzers 'Deutsch-evangelische Messe'
(Allstedt, 1524), verglichen mit Luthers drei liturgischen Schriften 1523-1526
(Zeitschrift des Vereins fur Kirchengeschichte in der Provinz Sachsen, 1012, Bd. 9,
578.), K. Schulz, "Thomas Muentzers liturgische Bestrebungen," in Zeitschrift fur
Kirchengeschichte (Gotha: Druck von F. A. Perthes, 1928), and E. Jammers,
"Thomas Miintzers deutsche evangelische Messen," in Archiv fur Reformations-
geschichte, 1934, vol. 31 (ARG).
13. "Sermon Before the Princes," in George H. Williams, ed.. Spiritual and Ana
baptist Writers (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1957), 51.
14. Ibid., 56.
15. Ibid., 58.
16. Ibid., 57.
17. Ibid., 58.
18. Protestation odder Empiettung (Allstedt, 1524). Ausgedruckte Entblossung des
Falschen Glaubens, der ungetreuen Welt durchs Gezeugnis des Evangelions Lucae
vorgetragen, der elenden erbaemlichen Christenheit zur Innerung ihres Irrsals
(Muhlhauscn, 1524). (Open Denial of the False Belief of the Godless World on
the Testimony of the Gospel of Luke, Presented to Miserable and Pitiful Chris
tendom in Memory of its Error). Miintzer's other works include: Gezeugnis des
ersten Capitels des Evangelions Lucae, 1524, Vom Gedichteten Glauben (All
stedt, 1524) and his reply to Luther's letter to the princes of Saxony, Hochverur-
sachte Schutzrede und Antwort wider das geistlose, sanftlebende Fleisch zu Witt
enberg, welches mit verkchrter Weise durch den Diebstahl der Heiligen Schrift
die erbaermliche Christenheit also ganz jaemmerlichen besudelt hat (Nurnberg,
1524). (A Weil-Grounded Defense and Reply to the Godless, Easy-living Flesh of
Wittenberg, which Has Pitifully Sullied Unhappy Christianity through Shame
less Distortions of the Holy Scripture.)
19. Boehmer and Kirn, 48.
2o. Ibid., 74. A significant recent interpretation of Miintzer's reform as theocentric
rather than social is by Walter Elliger, Thomas Miintzer (Berlin: Wichern Ver
lag, 1960).
21. Ibid., 163 (from Miintzer's Confession of May 16, 1525). See the discussion in
Carl Hinrichs, Luther und Miintzer, Ihre Auseinandersetzung iiber Obrigkeit
und Widerstandsrecht (Berlin: Walter De Gruyter 8c Co., 1952), 11.
22. C. D. Foerstemann, Zur Geschichte des Bauernkriegs, Neue Mitteilungen aus
dem Gcbiet historische-antiquarischer Forschungen, 1869, XII, 215.
24. G. Mentz, Johann Friedrich der Grossmiitige, I, 36, quoted by Hinrichs, 30. See
J. Rogge, Der Beitrag des Predigers Strauss zur fruhen Reformationsgeschichte
(Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 1957).
26. Brandt, 161, 162.
27. Foerstemann, 181.
28. Brandt, 164. For Muentzer's minimum influence on Hut see Jan J. Kiwiet, Pil-
gram Marbeck (Kassel: J. G. Oncken Verlag, 1957), 43, and Herbert Klassen, "The
Life and Teachings of Hans Hut," Mennonite Quarterly Review, XXXIII, nos.
3 & 4, July-Oct. 1959, 172, 267-280. For Miintzer's maximum influence on Hut see
Grete Mecenseffy, "Die Herkunft des oberosterreichischen Taufertums," in
Archiv fur Reformationsgeschichte, 1956, vol. 47, 252-258. Walter Fellmann
cites twenty-four passages from Miintzer in the writings of the other leader of
South German Anabaptism, Hans Denck, thus claiming Miintzer's influence on
the literary beginnings of Anabaptism. In Hans Denck Schriften. 2. Teil (Gfit-
ersloh: C Bertelsmann Verlag, 1956), 6.
2.9. For the history of the Peasants' War, consult Gunther Franz, Der deutsche
Bauernkrieg (Munchen: R. Oldenburg, 1943). The letters of Conrad Grebel
and his friends in Zurich to Muntzer appear in Williams, op. cit., 73-85.
30. M. Steinmetz, "Zur Entstehung der Muntzer-Legende" (Beitrage zum neuen
Geschichtsbild. Alfred Meusel zum 60. Geburtstag, 1956).
31. Rupp, op. cit., 145.

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REFORMATION STUDIES

JOHN KNOX PRESS

Roland H. Bainton: A Biographical Appreciation 11

Essays on Other Men and Movements

A Bibliography of Professor Bainton's Writings on the 251

Notes and Acknowledgments 254

constructive measures of international friendship has led him to be a

delved into in any language not familiar to him, he proceeded to learn

Luther's theologizing is not without its presupposition. It is tied to

bestowed by him. The law of mutual assistance rules in creation. Men

in recognizing man's knowledge of God unaided by revelation. It is

II. Luther—the Fideist

There are all conceivable degrees of contrast between faith and

necessary to embrace in faith," i.e., the Word concerning the tree of

III. How Are Faith and Knowledge Co-ordinated in Luther?

Trinity by natural reason. ... By natural reason we can know of

that human knowledge cannot acknowledge the way of salvation by

As is very well known, Luther called reason a nasty, nasty word.

of argumentation. (2) Reason as the presupposition and the normative

must be free, else it is not will; (3) God is essentially comprehensible;

Thus, when we are captives of Satan,

"before God," or "in God's sight"—does not mean claiming to see

back and forth among logical discernment, human conception and

tise, but especially in two remarkable discussions of the clarity of

This is the Word centered in Christ. Beyond its clear message we

arguments are, first, that to interpret the words of institution literally

of a "double truth," or a special "logic of faith" applying in the realm

spirits and with the saints triumphant. Another, attributable to

Perhaps few theologians were ever better qualified to speak about

suffering Anfechtung and a record of how God permitted the pious

sº ring Anfechtung and a record of how God permitted the pious

i rojected into their spiritual struggles the memory of his own. He

i ich the biblical figures encountered in their Anfechtung situation.

In his e - ge?" ain, Jonah, Joseph's

atiº ce. While it is true

Note the element of metaphysical insecurity when "the garden be

to punish God for sending him the Temptress."25 Finally, Luther

A second aspect of God that is revealed in Anfechtung is that of

even Augustine, Hieronymus, Francis, Benedict, and Bernard had

and confessed when the possibility of falling also exists. Therefore

most frequently on Sunday Reminiscere. His most complete treatment

The despair which Luther experienced during his early monastic

he felt compelled to recognize himself as "a sinner of troubled con

Jesus spoken.18 He knew the Son of God to be a condemning tyrant,19

poverty, chastity, and obedience were means to the overcoming of self-

tempering of despair. It was their added suggestion that the laws

in some real measure on his knowledge that neglect or error of even a

one's responsibility is by no means lessened thereby.65 And so Luther

In the light of this, however, it is not too much to presume that in

mality of doubt presupposed the presence of a certain amount of con

On August 1, 1533 the Hungarian bishop at Szerem, Stephen Bro-

gary. Then it will yield to the predominating influence of Calvinism.

66 at Padua in addition to those enrolled in the native university at

other parts of the universal western church. The hammer blows of

tional improvement depended upon an intellectual, social, and eco

ing so annoyingly widespread that the bishop of Gyulafehervar issued

thesis on the Turkish question had been misconstrued in Hungary be

The bifurcation of his system by the twin decrees of election and

In a commentary on Romans 9:22, Calvin says that Paul in his use of

blamable justice shines forth no less in the perdition of the reprobate