Luther would have avoided a great number of mistakes in his interpretation of the Epistle to the Romans had he conscientiously studied the older expositors instead of blindly opposing them.
The passage in Hebrews xi. 1, which was of the greatest importance for his views (“Est fides sperandarum substantia rerum, argumentum non apparentium”), he interprets in a false sense, whereas St. Thomas takes it correctly. He takes “substantia,” etc. (ἑλπιζομένων ὑπόστασις πραγμάτων) as “possessio et facultas futurarum rerum,” and the word “argumentum” (ἔλεγχος) as “signum.” It was only in 1519 that he learnt from Melanchthon that this interpretation could not be made to agree with the Greek text. Even when making known his mistake he gives a side hit at the Sententiarii, i.e. the Scholastics. And yet he would have found the correct interpretation in St. Thomas’s “Summa Theologica,” and also in his Commentary on Romans, viz. that “substantia” here means foundation, or first beginning (“fides est prima pars iustitiæ”), while “argumentum” has the sense of firm assent, i.e. to the truth that “is not seen.”
To sum up briefly here some of the fundamental theological confusions of which the author of the Commentary on Romans is guilty, either from carelessness or in the excitement of controversy, we may mention that he confuses freedom with willingness or joyousness, the works of the Mosaic law with the works of natural or Christian morality, true humility with self-annihilation and despair, confidence with presumption; to him true contrition is grief sensibly manifested, all charity other than perfect is mere perverse self-seeking, and holy fear of the Divine judgment and penalties is a slavish, selfish service.
The freedom of the Christian spirit, bestowed by the gospel in contradistinction to Judaism, Luther, owing to persistent misapprehension, makes out to be freedom regarding outward things of the law. Appealing to St. Paul’s teaching concerning the liberty of the gospel, he says: “we must not be subject to the burden of any law to such an extent as to consider the outward works of the law necessary for salvation.” Those who do so are, according to him, attached to “a spiritual, but exceedingly reprehensible” view, which we must oppose with all our might. Away with those whose aim it is to “fulfil the law by means of many observances.” “The law is to be observed not because we must keep it, but because we choose to do so, not because it is necessary, but because it is permitted.” Instead of this, he continues, we bow to-day under the yoke of servitude, fancy it is necessary and yet wish secretly that it did not exist (“Hæc servitus hodie late grassatur,” etc.). The effect of such distorted principles on his views regarding the commandments of the Church is very obvious. “Concerning the outward service of God,” as Denifle has already pointed out, “Luther went to great lengths in his defence of ‘libertas....’ The believer is free as regards all things; ‘sufficit charitas de corde puro’ he frequently repeated at the very time when he was vindicating himself against the errors of the Picards.” Though as yet still far from the revulsion which was to come later he was already cherishing the principles which were to lead up to it.
What he says on obedience and personality in dealing with Romans x. and the word of faith which calls for submission, exhibits a strange medley of excessive mystical severity combined with a free handling of his own views, and also some good examples of his stormy dialectics. It is worth our while to dwell a little on these passages because the train of thought furnishes a curious picture of the direction of the young Monk’s mind.
“The faith [which justifies] allows itself to be led in any direction,” he says, “and is ready to hear and to yield; for God does not require great works, but the putting to death of the old man, but to this we cannot attain without submitting our own ideas and judgment to the authority of another....” He then continues, vaguely confusing faith and humility: “The old man is to be put to death by faith in the Word of God. But God’s Word is not only that which sounds from heaven, but everything that comes from the mouth of a good man, more particularly from our ecclesiastical superiors. That is why the quarrelsome will hear nothing of this faith and take offence at the word of faith. Instead of believing they demand proofs and always think their own ideas right, and those of others false. But whoever does not know how to submit himself and always fancies he is not in the wrong, exhibits the plainest signs that the old Adam still lives in him and that Christ has not yet risen in him.” Then follows a long and tedious description of how “man must surrender his mind to the bondage of the word of the Cross and renounce himself and all that is his until he dies to self.”
It is surprising to find in the mouth of Luther such an utterance as that we must receive with submission every word of a godly man in order to possess “faith” in its true meaning, but it reappears on another occasion in the Commentary under quite peculiar circumstances. The passage is a still more glaring instance of confusion and is worth quoting in its entirety on account of its mistaken train of thought and of its self-contradiction and jumping from one point to another, so characteristic of Luther.
The explanation of Romans iii. begins with a general assault on the “proud ‘spirituals’ in the Church, with their great and many works,” the heading chosen being that “Justification does not require works of the law, but true faith which performs works of faith.” The works of these “spirituals” are not works of faith, but works of the law, for as they are proud and stiff-necked they “do not believe in the precepts and counsels of those who speak to them of salvation.” Christ Himself speaks in the latter, and to refuse to believe them in any one particular is to deny faith in Him altogether (“fides consistit in indivisibili”); for the same reason the heretics, if they deny only one article of the faith, really deny the faith as a whole. In a word, these proud folk “lose the whole faith, thanks merely to their stiffness” (“periit tota fides propter unius sensus pertinaciam”); so important is it to give way to truth whenever it approaches us in humility! Justification must therefore necessarily take place without the works which those people have in their mind. If a man cannot readily bear contradiction “he certainly cannot be saved; for there is no surer sign that our ideas, words and works are of God than contradiction [!]; everything that is of God must be rejected by man, as we see from the example of our Saviour, and, even if it be not of God, contradiction brings us still greater profit and preserves us from shipwreck.”
In support of this perplexing doctrine there follow examples and quotations from the Bible, and finally this conclusion: “it is a safe path when we are reproved, cursed and blamed.” He does not seem to notice that this assertion provides a ground of excuse and defence for the so-called “proud ‘spirituals,’” for they, too, might argue that his contradiction gave a sanction to their conduct.
Luther seems to have had only himself and his own interests in view when he brought forward these ideas, beginning with the extreme assertion that we must believe every word that a good man speaks; he apparently wished to insist on himself and his followers being given credence, and on their views — which were the views of faithful counsellors — being approved by the defenders of works, whether in his Order or outside of it. As he encountered contradiction, he immediately applied to his own case the very elastic principle, that opposition in religious matters is a guarantee of truth. This was a principle, we may mention, which he had made his own ever since his mystical days, and which at a later date and indeed till the end of his life, he repeatedly employed in the service of his cause during his struggle with the Church.
Continuing his harangue against the “spirituals” and the heretics with whom he classes them he goes on to say: “they buoy themselves up in their idle self-complacency on account of their faith in Christ, but in vain, as they will not believe in that which is Christ’s. The faith of Christ by which we are justified is not merely faith in Christ, or in the person of Christ, but in all that is Christ’s.” “Christ is not divided” (1 Cor. i. 13). Faith is something indivisible, Christ and whatever is Chris
t’s is one and the same. Therefore we must believe both in Christ and in the Church, and in “every word that comes from the mouth of an ecclesiastical superior, or of a good, pious man.” “But those who withdraw themselves from their superiors will not listen to their words, but follow their own ideas,” he again repeats: “how do these, I ask, believe in Christ? They believe in His birth and His sufferings, but not in His whole word, consequently they deny Him altogether. See how necessary is the very greatest humility, as we who believe in Christ can never be sure whether we believe in all that is His, and therefore must remain uncertain as to whether we believe in Him Himself! Justification can only proceed from such a fear and humility. But the proud “do not understand the exalted subtilties of this faith; they think they are in possession of the whole of faith, yet cannot hear the Lord’s voice, but rather resist it as though it were false; why? because it is opposed to their own ideas.” After a dialectical digression of doubtful character the hot-blooded exegetist continues: All the Prophets rise up against such men, for they always commence their holy message with the words: “Thus saith the Lord” and, “whosoever it be whom the Lord chooses as His mouthpiece, the demand is for faith, resignation, humble subjection of our own ideas; for it is only thus that we are justified, and not otherwise.” With incredible tenacity he is ever harping on the assertion that the “self-righteous” only deck themselves out with works of the law, but find no grace with God. And finally, as though he had not yet said a word against those rebels against faith and the Word of God, he cries: “Let those open their ears who believe indeed in Christ, but not in the word of Christ, who do not listen to their superiors and who wish to be justified without this obedience, i.e. without this faith in God and merely by their works.” In another outburst he shows them — this time adopting a more mystical tone — that Christ speaks “almost always when, where and as we do not expect.” “Who can discover all the wily attacks of Satan by which he deceives us?” Some wish to be justified by a “slavish fear,” in spite of their disinclination and “by their own strength alone”; those whom he deceives more artfully feel a desire for what is good, “but in their self-complacency they affect superstitious singularity (‘singularitatis et superstitionis affectatores’), they become rebels [like the Observantines, see ], and under a show of obedience and love of God they throw off their submission to the men of God, i.e. to the Vicars and messengers of Christ.” “It is presumption and pride which changes works of grace into works of the law, and the righteousness of God into human righteousness; for,” etc. “How then can you be proud as though you were more righteous than another, how can you despise him who sins, when you yourself [at least, by your evil inclinations] are sunk in the same mire?” etc. “But they receive honour of men on account of their righteousness,” a subject on which Luther proceeds to enlarge.
We have said enough. The torrent of words flows on aimlessly in this way, ever labouring the same subject; all this is given us in lieu of real exegesis as corollaries to two verses of the Epistle to the Romans.
In order to gauge the real value of the Commentary on Romans we must now consider the treatment, abounding in inconsistencies, accorded by Luther to man’s efforts for obtaining salvation.
In Luther’s mind the idea of that God does all, stands side by side with the traditional view of the Church, that man must prepare himself; he has, indeed, a curious knack of remaining quite unconscious of his inconsistencies. On the one hand, according to what he says, we must seek for justification by the exertion of the fullest human effort, and this labour must be so strenuous as to render God propitious to us (“Deum sibi propitium faciunt”). That is, at least, what we are told at the end of the Commentary, but at the beginning we read: “The faith which is to justify must manifest its works, works of the law are not sufficient, it must be ‘a living faith which performs its own works.’” “When James and Paul say that man is justified by works, they are opposing the false opinion that faith without its works is sufficient, whereas such a faith is not faith at all.” According to this, it is plain, that, at that time, the idea of man’s co-operation in the work of salvation by the use of his liberty still hovered in Luther’s mind. But any idea of this kind is elsewhere confronted and peremptorily dismissed by another chain of ideas. How are we to make efforts by our own free will when we do not possess free will for doing what is good? “As though,” he says, “we had free will at our disposal whenever we want! Such an idea of free will can only serve to lull us into a false security.” (“Securi stertimus, freti libero arbitrio quod ad manum habentes, quando volumus, possumus pie intendere.”)
Here he will only admit that man has freedom to pray for the right use of his freedom. But, as a matter of fact, even this liberty which might incite us to prayer, is non-existent. For in respect of anything that is good [whether natural or supernatural, he makes no distinction] we are only like raw metal or a wooden stick. Because God’s grace is the hand which works in us for good and which performs our vital acts within us, while we ourselves are quiescent and absolutely powerless, Luther says in Romans iii.: “I have frequently insisted before upon the fact, that it is impossible for us to have of ourselves the will or the heart to fulfil the law.” Why? “Because the law is spiritual.” Meditation on man’s enslaved condition as the result of concupiscence, he declares in another passage, proves my contention, no less than the terrible truth of predestination.
“Luther felt in himself that belief in the eternal predestination by God [absolute election to grace] was the most powerful support of his experience of the complete inadequacy of human works and the efficacy of grace alone.” The Protestant theologian who says this, to instance Luther’s faith in the action of grace, here quotes from the passages from the Commentary on Romans, according to which God on the one hand bestows His grace only on those He chooses, but on the other hand infallibly saves those He elects to save. “The Spirit,” Luther has it, “supports the latter by His presence in all their weaknesses, so that they prevail in circumstances where they would otherwise despair a thousand times.” It is, however, remarkable that just after this explanation the cry bursts from Luther’s lips: “Where are now the good works, where the freedom of the will?” Here the irresistible “action of grace alone” appears as a direct consequence of Luther’s then views, though he refrains from expressing himself more clearly as to the nature of actual grace.
Thus in his mind are combined two widely divergent ideas, viz. that God does everything in man who is devoid of freedom — and that man must draw nigh to God by prayer and works of faith. It is a strange psychological phenomenon to see how, instead of endeavouring to solve the contradiction and examine the question in the light of calm reason, he gives free play to feeling and imagination, now passionately proving to the infamous Observants that man is absolutely unable to do anything, now insisting on the need of preparation for grace, i.e. unconsciously becoming the defender of the Church’s doctrine of free will and human co-operation. The fact is, he still, to some extent, thinks with the Church. It was no easy task for him to break away from a view, which is so natural to man and so much in accordance with faith, viz. that there must be some preparation on man’s part for justification, in which however, actual grace, which comes to the assistance of his will and becomes part of it, also has its share.
Luther’s peculiar mysticism with its preponderance of feeling was, in part, the cause of his overlooking his task, which was to propound from his professorial chair the teaching of the Church in definite and exact terms — so far as this was possible to him with his insufficient theological training. To this may be added the fact that the wealth of biblical quotations, whether to the point or not, which he is wont to adduce, tends to distract and confuse him as soon as he attempts to draw any clear inferences.
According to Denifle a certain progress is apparent in the Commentary on Romans inasmuch as the first three chapters show Luther’s new doctrines still in an inchoate form. Luther, there, is see
king for something he has not yet fully grasped, and the confusion of his language is a proof that he has not as yet made up his mind. There is, however, one point, according to Denifle, on which he is quite definite, viz. concupiscence, though he does not yet know how to combine it with his other ideas; but, by the end of chapter iii., this doubt has been set aside, he has identified concupiscence with original sin and reached other conclusions besides. Still he avoids the principal question as to how far human co-operation is necessary in the act of justification.
It is difficult to determine exactly this progress owing to Luther’s want of clearness and precision of expression, and to his contradictory treatment of certain capital points. The Commentary on Romans as it proceeds hardly shows any improvement in this respect. With extraordinary elasticity of mind, if we may so speak, the author without the slightest compunction advocates concerning the most profound theological questions, especially grace, ideas which differ from and contradict each other. As at the very commencement we meet some of the most incisive new theses of Lutheranism — the imputation of the righteousness of Christ, the sinfulness of the natural man and his inability to do what is good, and likewise predestination to hell in its most outrageous form — it is natural to infer that Luther had already forsaken the Catholic doctrine on these points at the time he was preparing his lectures on the Epistle to the Romans, i.e. about the summer of 1515. His misapprehension of this Epistle must have had its influence on his whole trend, and the elements already at work in his mind helped to decide him to commit to writing in his Commentary his supposed new and important doctrinal discoveries.
Collected Works of Martin Luther Page 600
