It was known at that time that he had become a pupil of Tauler, whom he frequently quoted, but few of his adversaries seem to have recognised the above-mentioned psychological connection. Dungersheim of Leipzig on one occasion, in 1519, rightly holds up before him the teaching and example of Tauler, and tells him he might have learnt from him how useful it was to accept from others warnings and criticisms; he gloried in having learnt from Tauler many more spiritual doctrines than from any other man, but he really only understood one thing well, namely, how to kick against the pricks to his own hurt.
Luther’s first mention of Tauler is not contained in his letter to Lang of the late summer of 1516, as was hitherto thought, but in the Commentary on Romans, which was already finished in the summer of 1516.
It follows from this circumstance that he was already acquainted with Tauler’s sermons during the time that he was busy on this Epistle. He had come across them somewhat earlier, probably in the course of 1515, when he was nearing his inward crisis. In this passage of the Commentary he declares that God works secretly in man and without his knowledge, and that what He does must be borne, i.e. must be accepted with humility and neglect of self. How we are thus to suffer what God sends, “Tauler,” he says, “explains in the German language better than the others. Yes, yes, we do not know how to pray in the way we should. Therefore God’s strength must come to the assistance of our misery. We, however, must acknowledge our despair and utter nakedness.”
But without actually mentioning Tauler by name, he frequently in this Commentary, utilises ideas which he supports by his teaching. Thus, when in Romans v. 3 he describes in far-fetched terms the self-annihilation of the soul, its fears and pains, from which finally its firm hope in God emerges. The “tribulatio patientiam operator” of the Apostle he takes there to mean mystical inward tribulation; one must desire to be as nothing, in order that the honour of the Eternal God as Creator may remain. Only the self-righteous and the hypocrites shun the mystical death which lies in a renunciation of all self-merit; according to a mystical interpretation of a certain Bible passage the “strong man armed” (Luke xi. 21 f.) will destroy the “mountains of their works”; but the good, in their absolute destitution and tribulation, rejoice in God only, because, according to Paul, “the charity of God is poured forth” in the hearts of the sorely proved; they are drawn into the mysterious darkness of the Divine union and recognise therein not what they love, but only what they do not love; they find nothing but satiety in what they know and experience, only what they know not, that they desire. Such language simply misinterprets some of Tauler’s profound meditations.
As, in his Commentary on the Psalms, Luther does not yet refer either directly or indirectly to Tauler, although the matter frequently invited him to do so, this confirms the supposition that it was only after the termination of those lectures, or towards their conclusion in 1515, that he became acquainted with the Master’s sermons — which alone come under consideration. Probably, as mentioned elsewhere, he owed his knowledge of them to Johann Lang.
One of the books used by Luther in his youth and preserved in the Ratsschul-Library at Zwickau is a copy of Tauler’s sermons in the 1508 Augsburg edition with Luther’s annotations made about 1515. The notes prove how strongly his active imagination was caught up into this new world of ideas, and how, with swelling sails, he set out for the port he thought lay beyond the mystic horizon.
Mysticism teaches the true wisdom, he there says, warmly praising this knowledge as “experimental, not doctrinal” (“sapientia experimentalis et non doctrinalis”). Dimly the error breaks in upon his mind, that man can have no wish, no will of his own with respect to God; true religion (vera fides) is the complete renunciation of the will, the most absolute passivity; only thus is the empty vessel of the heart filled by God, the cause of all; the work of salvation is a “negotium absconditum,” entirely the work of God, and He commences it by the destruction of our self (“quod nos et nostra destruat”); He empties us not only of our good works and desires, but even of our knowledge, for “He can only work in us while we are ignorant and do not comprehend what He is doing.” Any active striving after virtue on our part (“operatio virtutum”) only hinders the birth of the word in our soul.
His new ideal of virtue necessarily involves our not striving after any particular virtues; we are not to imitate this or that special virtue of some saint lest this prove to be the result of our own planning, and not God’s direction, and thus be contrary to passivity. Not only will he grant nothing to sexual desire, or allow it anywhere, but even the enjoyment of the five senses (he calls it simply luxuria) must be struggled against, and the “sweets of the spirit” be kept at a distance, namely, “devotiones,” “affectiones,” “consolationes et hominum bonorum societates.”
In his recommendation of passivity two tendencies unite, the negative influence of the school of Occam, viz. the opposition to human works, and the influence of certain dimly apprehended mystical thoughts.
While Luther twists Tauler’s expressions to suit the errors which were germinating in his mind in opposition to Scholasticism, or, rather, to Occamism, he proceeds, according to his manuscript notes in Tauler’s book, seriously to jeopardise free will without, however, as yet actually attacking it. He finds the origin of all evil in man’s setting up against God his own will, and cherishing his own individual intentions and hopes. He thinks he is summing up the whole of Tauler’s doctrine with the words “God does everything in us” (“omnia in nobis operatur Deus”). Where Tauler in one of his sermons, obviously speaking of other matters, says: “When God is in all things,” Luther immediately follows up the author’s words with: “Hoc, quæso, nota”; the exclusiveness of the Divine being and working appears to him of the utmost moment.
And yet it should be expressly pointed out that Tauler and the real Christian mystics knew nothing of that passivity and complete surrendering of self which floated before Luther’s mind. On the contrary, they declare such ideas to be false. “The ideal of Christian mysticism is not an ideal of apathy but of energy,” “a striving after an annihilation of individuality” was always a mark of mock mysticism. Another essential difference between true mysticism and that of Luther is to be found in the quality of the state of spiritual sadness and abandonment. Luther’s descriptions of the state mirror the condition of a soul without hope or trust and merely filled with despair and dull resignation; this we shall see more clearly in his accounts of the pains of hell and of readiness for hell. With the recognised Catholic mystics this is not the case, and, in spite of all loss of consolation, there yet remains, according to them, “in the very depths of the soul, the heroic resolve of fidelity in silent prayer.” Confidence and love are never quenched though they are not sensibly felt, and the feeling of the separation of the soul from its God in this Gethsemane proceeds merely from a great love of God which does not think of any “readiness for hell.” “That is love,” Tauler says, where there is a burning in the midst of starvation, want and deprivations, and yet at the same time perfect calm.
It is no wonder that in Luther’s Commentary on Romans, written at about the same time as the notes, or shortly after, his pseudo-mysticism breaks out. In addition to the already quoted passages from the Commentary let us take the following, which is characteristic of his new conception of perfect love: With the cross we must put everything of self to death; should God give spiritual graces, we must not enjoy them, not rejoice over them; for they may bring us in place of death a mistaken life of self, so that we stop short at the creature and leave the Creator. Therefore away with all trust in works! Only the most perfect love, the embracing of God’s will absolutely, without any personal advantage is of any worth, only such love as would, if it could, strip itself even of its own being.
Frequently in this period of strange spiritual transition Luther’s manner of speaking of the dissolving of the soul in God, and the penetrating of all things by the Divine, borders on Pantheism, or on false Neo-Pla
tonism. This, however, is merely owing to his faulty mode of expression. He does not appear to have been either disposed or tempted to leave the path of Christianity for actual Pantheism or Neo-Platonism, although the previous example of Master Eckhart and of others shows us, that mysticism has not infrequently allured even great and talented minds on to these rocks. That he should, as already shown, have welcomed without any sign of scruple the actual destruction of all free will for good must, in part, be explained by his lack of a thorough theological and philosophical training. How different might have been his development, given his mental character, had he, instead of devoting his attention in his unripe years to the teachings of mysticism, steeped himself, for instance, in the “Summa Theologica” of Thomas of Aquin, that brightest and greatest mind of the Middle Ages! After making himself thoroughly at home in such a theology he would then have been qualified to summon to his assistance the better sort of mysticism, in which he would have found much agreeing with his stamp of mind and which would have allowed him to rise to a still higher enjoyment of the true and good. If then he was not content to stop short at Tauler and the “German Theology,” there was the Dominican Henry Suso also at his service, the godly author of writings such as “The Little Book of Eternal Wisdom,” which has been called the “finest fruit of German mysticism” (Denifle). He shows in how inspiring a union pious immersion in God can be combined with theological clearness of thought. Many others who flourished after the time of Suso, in Germany and elsewhere, and who distinguished themselves as practical and at the same time theoretical mystics by the depth of their feeling and their theological culture would have served as his examples. Such were Johann Ruysbroek, of Groenendael near Brussels, Gerard Groot of Deventer, the founder of the Brothers of the Common Life, Henry of Louvain, Ludolf the Carthusian, Gerson of Paris — with his excellent Introduction to Mysticism, on the lines of the so-called Areopagite — Thomas à Kempis, the pious guide, and, among enlightened women, Lidwina of Schiedam in Holland, Catherine of Bologna and Catherine of Genoa. The names mentioned, so far as they belong to the domain of German mysticism, point to a fertile religious and literary field in Luther’s own country, as attractive by profundity of thought and beauty of representation as by depth of feeling and heartiness of expression. It was a cruel misunderstanding — which, however, is now breaking down more and more, even in the case of Protestant writers — to represent the ideas of German mysticism as precursors of Luther’s later doctrine.
This vein of true mysticism remained sealed to Luther. By attempting to create a theology of his own with the fantastic notions which he read into Tauler, he fell into the mistake against which Thomas of Aquin had already sounded a warning note in his “Summa Theologica.” Without a safe guiding star many minds are led astray by the attraction of the extraordinary, by the delusions of an excited fancy or the influence of disordered inclinations, and consider that to be the work of Divine grace which is merely deception, as experience shows.
As an expression of the spiritual turmoil going on in Luther, we may quote a passage from a sermon of January, 1517. Speaking of the gifts of the three kings he says: “the pure and choice myrrh is the abnegation with which we must be ready to return to absolute nothingness, to the state before creation; every longing for God is there relinquished (!), and likewise the desire for things outside of God; one thing only is desired: to be led according to His good pleasure back to the starting-point, i.e. to nothingness. Ah, yes, just as before God called us into existence we were nothing, desired nothing, and existed only in the mind of God, so we must return to that point, to know nothing, to desire nothing, to be nothing. That is a short way, the way of the cross, by which we may most speedily arrive at life.” Whether a sermon was the right place for such, at best purely incomprehensible, an outburst, is doubtful. Luther, the idealist, was then disposed to pay but little attention to such practical considerations. In the eyes of many of his pupils and friends, however, mystical discourses of this sort may have lent him the appearance of a pious, spiritually minded man.
With regard to the “way of the cross” and the “theology of the cross,” which he began to teach as soon as he had lost himself in the maze of mysticism, he explains himself more clearly in the Disputations which he organised at Wittenberg, and which will be dealt with below.
2. Effect of Mysticism on Luther
The study of mysticism was not altogether disadvantageous to Luther, for it proved of use to him in various ways.
First, as regards his grasp of spiritual subjects and their expression in words, Tauler’s simple and heartfelt manner taught him how to clothe his thoughts in popular and attractive dress. The proof of this is to be found in his writings for the people and in several of his more carefully prepared sermons, particularly in the works and sermons of the first period when the mystical influence was still predominant. Also with regard to the common body of Christian belief, so far as he still held fast to the same, several excellent elements of Catholic mysticism stood him in good stead, notwithstanding his inward alienation. The intimate attachment of the mystics to Christ and their longing expectation of salvation through the Lord alone, sentiments which made an immense impression on his soul, notwithstanding the fact that he understood them in a one-sided and mistaken fashion, probably had their share in preserving in him to the very end his faith in the Divinity of Christ and in the salvation He wrought. They also led him to esteem the whole Bible as the Word of God, and to hold fast to various other mysteries which some of the Reformers opposed, for instance, the mysterious presence of Christ in the Sacrament, even though they did not prevent him from modifying these doctrines according to his whim. While Luther retained many of the views rooted in the faith and sentiment of earlier ages, the Rationalism of Zwingli was much more ready to throw overboard what did not appear to be sanctioned by reason; this came out especially in the controversy on the Lord’s Supper. The reason of this was that Zwingli had been trained in the school of a narrow and critical Humanism; of mysticism in any shape or form he knew nothing at all.
Among the advantages which Luther derived from mysticism we cannot, however, reckon, as some have done, his later success against the fanatics; this success was not a result of his having overcome their false mysticism by the true one. By that time he had almost completely given up his mysticism, whether true or false. He certainly met the attacks of the fanatics and Anabaptists by appealing to his own mystical experiences, but that was really a mere tactical, though none the less effective, manœuvre on his part, which, with his ready tongue and pen, he was able to put to excellent account. “Who spoke of spirits?” he says; “I also know the spirit and have had experience of the spirit; I am able, yea, am called, to reveal their delusions.” And in the eyes of many he may certainly have been considered, on account of the “mystical” terrors he had suffered, and to which he frequently referred in public, to be specially fitted to unmask the false spiritualism of his opponents. As a matter of fact, his fears and his mysticism had nothing to do with the real discerning of spirits; they never brought him light, but only darkness. The truth is that, at the time of his contest with the fanatics, he had become more sober, had a clear, practical eye for the mischief of the movement, and regarded it as the highest duty of self-preservation to stamp out the flame of revolt against his patrons and his own teaching. We shall see, however, that the fanatics were, in a certain sense, the children of Luther’s own spirit.
The real good which Luther may have derived from the study of mysticism was far more than counterbalanced by the regrettable results of his notions concerning the “pure myrrh” of passivity, and the desire for nothingness, which at one and the same time involved him in a real labyrinth, and raised his estimation of his own mission to an enormous and dangerous height. He came to fancy himself far superior not only to the Occamists, but to the whole of the secular and regular clergy, the “swarm of religious and priests,” even to all the theologians, and particularly to the Scholastics, th
ose “sow theologians,” who knew nothing of what he was conversant with.
His mysticism had already paved the way for his later belief with regard to his own Divine call to establish the new teaching; it was supported by his views of God’s guidance of the unconscious soul; what he would formerly have regarded as a mistaken road and due to diabolical inspiration was now labelled a godly act.
True and real mysticism could not take root in him because, to start with, the necessary predisposition, concerning which the other mystics and Tauler are agreed, was wanting, viz. above all humility, calmness and that holy indifference, which allows itself to be led by God along the path of the rules of its calling without any ulterior, private aims; peaceableness, composure of mind and zeal in prayer were not his. What mysticism left behind in Luther was scarcely more than the fragrance of its words, without any real fruit. What took root and grew in him was rather the hard wood from which lances are made, ready for every combat that may arise. His mysticism itself gives the impression of being part of the battle which his antagonism to the Occamists led him to give to Scholasticism. Those who contradicted his new ideas — even his brother monks, like the Erfurt philosophers and theologians — appeared to him to be opposed on account of their Scholasticism. The most effective way of escaping or overcoming them seemed to him the replacing of the older theology by another, in which, together with Holy Scripture and St. Augustine, mysticism should occupy a chief place.
By this, however, we do not mean that the mysticism of Luther was merely a fighting weapon. From his letters we may gather that he lived in the belief that his new road would conduct him to a joyous nearness to God.
Collected Works of Martin Luther Page 591
