This may have never happened…and if it did, it wasn’t like
this.
Rebel
in the Ranks: Martin Luther, the Reformation, and the Conflicts That Continue
to Shape Our World, by Brad S. Gregory
Gregory’s book can be considered in two parts: first, the
history; second, the ramifications that extend even to us today. I thought I would knock out the history in
one or two posts. Well, this is my
fourth post on the book, and I am still in the opening pages of the first
chapter. In this section, Luther goes
public.
In September 1517, a one-page broadsheet was printed: Luther’s
A Disputation against Scholastic Theology. In this broadsheet, Luther – a humanist – lists
the specific propositions to be argued over; a central practice of
scholasticism! This, in order to
criticize scholasticism itself!
He condemns theologians’ reliance
on Aristotelian categories. “No one can
become a theologian,” Luther argues, “unless he becomes one without Aristotle.” Indeed, “the whole Aristotle is to theology
as darkness is to light.”
This conforms to Luther’s study of scripture and his love
for certain passages of Augustine. In
Luther’s view, no matter how hard you try you cannot improve yourself on your
own. This runs contrary to Aristotle and
his views on form, matter, and cause.
While provocative, Luther’s comments are not unheard
of. He isn’t the first humanist to
challenge the scholastics – Erasmus was a far more well-known humanist of the
time, yet no revolution followed him.
Luther’s own senior colleague at Wittenberg, Andreas Bodenstein, published
against scholastic theology just a few months earlier. Luther concludes his argument with a
statement that he does not believe that he has said anything not in agreement
with the Catholic Church.
In any case, Luther remains invisible. He follows up with some writing about
indulgences – not fully against the practice, but only that this practice has
been sometimes abused.
Two years earlier, Pope Leo X proclaimed an indulgence to
help build St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome – to make a long story short, the Pope
trades a dispensation to Albrecht (for holding multiple offices) in exchange
for a large payment.
Frederick of Saxony, Luther’s princely protector, is
concerned that this payment will drain money from his lands – and why should
this go for Rome? Luther writes to
Albrecht – withdraw your indulgence pamphlet, for the sake of your own reputation. In the same letter, Luther invites Albrecht
to examine a series of propositions: his Ninety-Five
Theses.
It is known with certainty that Luther sent his propositions
to Albrecht. It is not known with
certainty if Luther nailed these to the door of Frederick’s castle church. But even if he did, this was not as dramatic or
defiant a step as is often portrayed.
Posting theses for academic debate on church doors was commonplace –
somewhat like a professor posting an announcement on the faculty bulletin
board.
Whether posted or not, the theses were printed: multiple times in Latin, in various cities throughout a
wide geographical area. Editions in
German were printed, but apparently not at Luther’s direction. This translation in German – available to a
much broader segment of the population – might have been the actual spark of
the Reformation. A few weeks after the
thud of his Disputation, Luther was
suddenly a well-known public figure.
At first sight, his theses were not revolutionary: they
assumed papal authority; indulgences are legitimate; purgatory is real;
intercessory prayer works. His main target
is careless dispensation of indulgences by some preachers – none named.
There are, of course, some cutting propositions. However, Luther’s position as a professor of
theology means that he can float propositions for debate without owning them –
such propositions are often made, and not necessarily as the assertions of the
author. Again, as a humanist and against
scholastic theology, Luther is proposing scholastic debate on these matters.
However, Luther does implicitly address the scope and
character of papal authority:
Ten theses in a row begin with the
assertive phrase, “Christians are to be taught…” By Christians,
Luther means the laity – seemingly implying that they aren’t already being
taught correctly. Eight consecutive
statements near the end are couched as “truly sharp questions of the laity,” in
the voice of laypeople posing questions to the pope. These questions target papal avarice….
Why doesn’t the Pope – wealthier today than “the richest
Crassus” – construct the Basilica with his own money rather than the money of
the poor faithful?
Being available in German, these words gave spark to the
fuel that many Christians were already carrying.
Conclusion
Albrecht forwards Luther’s letter to the theological faculty
at the University of Mainz. They sound
caution, but do not immediately condemn Luther’s statements. As the issues are much broader than
provincial concerns, they advise Albrecht to send a copy to Rome.
Albrecht won’t hear back from Rome until the following
summer. By then, Luther’s spark has
become a conflagration; Luther is no longer an unknown, toiling obscurely in
Wittenberg. Those days are long behind
him.
Epilogue
As we advance in the book, we will see Frederick’s
protection of Luther. It is a curious
intersection of this history: payments demanded from Frederick by the Church;
Frederick’s concern about what these payments will do to his own finances and
that of his principality; Luther on the faculty of Frederick’s university;
Luther writing against indulgences.
I do not suggest Luther’s insincerity. I only note this intersection.
I have a Protestant book on church history, and it matches well with the content here about this part of the Reformation. Most people are unaware of the original arguments Luther made, which compared to what became of the Reformation would have been entirely within the Catholic viewpoint.
ReplyDeleteOne wonders what might have happened had the Pope made these minor reforms and appropriated the basilica money from elsewhere.