Collected Works of Martin Luther

by Martin Luther

  Everything had befallen him in accordance with God’s design. It was in accordance therewith, nay, “at the command of God,” that he had become a monk, so at least he says later. This, too, was his reason for giving up the office in choir and the recitation of the Breviary. “Our Lord God dragged me by force from the canonical hours, anno 1520.” His marriage likewise was the direct result of God’s plan. “The Lord suddenly flung me into matrimony in a wonderful way while my thoughts were set in quite another direction.” At an earlier date he had, so he said, defended the theses of his Resolutions only “because God compelled him to advance all these propositions.”

  His first encounter with Dr. Eck took place, so he was persuaded, “at God’s behest.” “God takes good care that I should not be idle.” It is God Who “calls and compels him” to return to Wittenberg after his stay at the Wartburg. — It is not surprising, then, that he also attributes to God’s doing the increase in the number of his friends and followers.

  The success of his efforts to bring about a great falling away from the Catholic Church he regarded as a clear Divine confirmation of his mission, so that “no higher proof or miracle was needed.” Even the disturbance and tumult which resulted bore witness in his favour, since Christ says: “I am come to send a sword.” All around him prevailed “discord, revolt and uproar,” because, forsooth, the Gospel was there at work; the calm, unquestioned sovereignty of Popery within its own boundaries was a sure sign of its being the devil’s own. “Did I not meet with curses, I should not believe that my cause was from God.”

  It is evident from these and other like statements how greatly his fame, the increase of his followers and his unexpected success engrossed and intoxicated him. In judging of him we must not under-estimate the effect of the din of applause in encouraging him in his self-suggestion. The cheers of so great a crowd, as Erasmus remarked in a letter to Melanchthon, might well have turned the head even of the humblest man. What anchor could have held the bark exposed to such a storm? Outbursts such as the following, to which Luther gave vent under the influence of the deafening ovation, were only to be expected of such a man as he, when he had once cut himself adrift from the Church: “God has now given judgment ... and, contrary to the expectation of the whole world, has brought things to such a pass.... The position of the Pope grows daily worse, that we may extol the work of God herein.” Under the magic influence of the unhoped-for growth of his movement of revolt, he declared it could only be due to a higher power, “which so disposed things that even the gates of hell were unable to prevent them.” Not he, but “another man, drives the wheel.” It is as clear as day that no man could, single-handed, have achieved so much, and, by “mere word of mouth,” done more harm to the Pope, the bishops, priests and monks than all worldly powers hitherto. Christ was working for him so strenuously, so he declares in all seriousness, that he might well calmly await His complete victory over Antichrist; for this reason there was really no need to trouble about the ecclesiastical organisation of the new Church, or to think of all the things it would otherwise have been necessary for him to remember.

  His mere success was not the only Divine witness in his favour; Luther was also of opinion that owing to God’s notable working, signs and wonders had taken place in plenty in confirmation of the new teaching; such Divine wonders, however, must not be “thrown to the winds.” He seems, nevertheless, to have had at one time the intention of collecting and publishing these miracles.

  In short, “the first-fruits of the Grace of God,” he says, have come upon us; in these he was unwilling that later teachers, who differed from him, should be allowed to participate.

  Was not the guidance of Christ also plainly visible in the fact that he, the proclaimer of His Word, had been delivered from so many ambushes on the part of the enemies who lay in wait for him? Such a thought lay at the root of his words to his pupil Mathesius: There was no doubt that poison had frequently been administered to him, but “an important personage had been heard to say, that none had any effect on him.” On one occasion, however, when an attempt had been made to poison him, He “Who said, ‘If they drink any deadly thing it shall not hurt them,’ blessed him, and preserved him then and afterwards from all mischief.” “I also believe,” Luther once said, according to Bindseil’s Latin “Colloquia,” that “my pulpit-chair and cushion were frequently poisoned, yet God preserved me.” Similar words are recorded in the Diary of Cordatus. This accounts for the strange tales which grew up amongst his pupils and followers of how “God Almighty had always preserved him in a wonderful manner,” of how He “had affrighted the knaves” who sought his life, and so forth, of which the early editions of Luther’s Works have so much to say.

  Among the characteristics most highly extolled by his earliest followers as exemplifying his mission must be instanced, first, his inflexible courage, amounting frequently to foolhardiness, in the accomplishment of his set task, viz. the establishing of the Evangel and the destruction of Popery; secondly, his extraordinary capacity for work and the perseverance of which he gave such signal proof in his literary undertakings; thirdly, his entire disregard for temporal advantages, which he himself held up as an example to those of the evangelical preachers whose worldliness had become a reproach to the Lutheran cause.

  Very strange and remarkable is the connection between Luther’s mysticism and the simple and homely view he took of life; the pleasure with which he welcomed everything good which came in his way — so far as it was free from any trace of Popery — the kindly, practical turn of his manner of thinking and acting when among his own people, and that love for humour and good cheer which so strikingly contrasts with the puritanical behaviour of his opponents, the Anabaptists and fanatics.

  To reconcile his mysticism with habits at first blush so divergent would present quite a problem in itself were we not to take into account the fact, that homeliness and humour had been his from the very beginning, whereas his mysticism was a later growth, always to some extent alien to his character. His mysticism he carefully confined to what related to his supposed Divine mission, though at times he does indeed seem to extend indefinitely the range of this mission. Yet, when the duties of his office had cost him pain or tried his temper, he was ever glad to return to the realities of life, and to seek relief in social intercourse or in his family circle.

  When it was a question of the working of miracles by the heaven-sent messenger, he was of too practical a turn of mind to appeal to anything but the ostensible tokens of the Divine favour worked around him and on his behalf in proof of the truth of the new Evangel. He carefully avoided attributing any miracles to his own powers, even when assisted by Divine grace, though, occasionally, he seems to imply that, were the need to arise, he might well work wonders by the power of God, were he only to ask it of Him. With the question of miracles and predictions as proofs of Luther’s Divine mission we shall deal later ( ff.).

  While on the one hand Luther’s views of miracles and prophecies witness to an error which was not without effect on his persuasion of his Divine mission, on the other his pseudo-mystic notion of his special calling led him superstitiously to see in chance events of history either the extraordinary confirmation of his mission or the celestial condemnation of Popery.

  We know that Luther not only shared the superstitions of his contemporaries, but also defended them with all the weight of his great name and literary talents. When at Vienna, in January, 1520, something unusual was perceived in the sky, he at once referred it to “his tragedy,” as he had done even previously in similar cases. He also expressed the wish that he himself might be favoured with some such sign. The noisy spirits which had formerly disturbed people had, he believed, been reduced in number throughout the world solely owing to his Evangel. The omnipotence of the devil and the evil he worked on men was, so he thought, to be restrained only by the power of that Word which had again been made known to the world, thanks to his preaching. It was his intention to publish an account of
the demoniacal happenings which had taken place in his day and which confirmed his mission; he was only prevented from doing this by want of time. To astrology, unlike Melanchthon, he ever showed himself averse.

  Another element which loomed large in his persuasion that he was a prophet was his so-called “temptations,” i.e. the mental troubles, which, so he thought, were caused by the devil and which, coinciding as they often did with other sufferings, were sometimes the cause of long fits of misery and dejection.

  These temptations in their most extreme form Luther compared with the death-agony. His extraordinary experiences, of which he never understood the pathological cause, were regarded by him as God’s own testimony to his election. His conviction was that, by imposing on him these pangs of hell, God was cleansing him for the grand task assigned to him, even as He had done with other favoured souls in the past. When plunged in the abyss of such sufferings he felt like St. Paul, the Apostle of the Gentiles, who likewise was buffeted by Satan (vol. i., f.), and whom he would fain have emulated in his “revelations” of the Divine mysteries. Only in the sequel, however, will it be possible to describe Luther’s pathology for the benefit of those to whom it may be of interest.

  All his troubles, whether due to doubt and sadness or to the fury of foes stirred up by Satan against him, he utilised, so he tells us, as an incentive to immerse himself ever more and more in the study of Holy Scripture, to cultivate the understanding bestowed upon him, and to seek its practical applications. “My theology was not all learnt in a day; I was obliged to explore deeper and deeper to acquire it. My temptations helped me, for it is impossible to understand Holy Scripture without experience and temptations. This is what the fanatics and unruly spirits lack, viz. that capital gainsayer the devil, who alone can teach a man this. St. Paul had a devil, who beat him with his fists and drove him by the way of temptation diligently to study Holy Scripture. I have had the Pope, the Universities and all the scholars, and, behind them all, the devil, hanging round my neck: they drove me to the Bible and made me read it until at length I reached the right understanding of it. Unless we have such a devil, we remain mere speculative theologians, for whose precious imaginings the world is not much better.” This casual saying of Luther’s gives us a good glimpse into his customary process of thought when in presence of troubles and temptations, great or small.

  The above passage, moreover, agrees with many similar statements of his, inasmuch as, far from ascribing his doctrine to any actual revelation, he makes its discovery to result from effort on his part, under the guidance of a higher illumination. Luther, less than any other, could scarcely have been unconscious of the gradual change in his views, more particularly at the outset of his career as Evangelist and prophet; at the very least it was clear that, in the earlier period of his higher mission, he had taught much that was borrowed from Popery and which he discarded only later; at that time, as he puts it, he was still “besotted with Popery.”

  Periodic Upheaval of Luther’s Idea of his Divine Mission.

  Luther’s consciousness of his Divine mission found expression with varying degrees of intensity at different periods of his life.

  At certain junctures, notably when historic events were impending, it was apt to burst forth, producing in him effects of a character almost terrifying. Such was the case, for instance, in the days which immediately preceded and followed the proclamation of the Bull of Excommunication. At that time it seemed as though every spirit of revolt had entered into him to use him as a tool for defying the authority of the Church. Such was the depth of his persuasion, that he, the excommunicate, was carried away to proclaim his unassailable prophetic rights in tones of the utmost conviction.

  Towards the end of his stay at the Wartburg and during the first period of his struggle with the Anabaptists at Wittenberg, we again hear him insisting on his own exalted mission; owing, however, to the mystic illumination of which the fanatics boasted, his claims are now based, not so much on mystical considerations, as on the “outward Word,” whose authentic representative he had, by his works, proved himself to be.

  The loneliness and gloom of the Wartburg and his “diabolical” experiences there doubtless helped to convince him yet more of the reality of his mission. The ensuing struggle with those of the innovators who differed from him and even threatened to oust him, acted as a further stimulus and aroused his powers of resistance to the utmost. Nor must we forget the threatening attitude of the Imperial authorities at Nuremberg, whom he was resolved to oppose with the greatest determination; only by impressing on his followers that he was something more than human would it be possible for him successfully to hold in check the hostility of Emperor and Princes. The supposed world-wide success of his venture also dazed him at this critical juncture, a fact which further elucidates the situation.

  Triumphantly he cries: “The Lord has already begun to mock at Satan and his slaves. Satan is in truth vanquished, and the Pope, too, with all his abominations! Now our only concern is the soap-bubble which has swelled to such alarming dimensions [the Nuremberg menace]. We believe in Christ, the Son of God, believe in His dominion over life and death. Whom then shall we fear? The first-fruits of victory have already fallen to us; we rejoice at the overthrow of the Papal tyranny, whereas formerly Kings and Princes were content to submit to its oppression; how much easier will it be to vanquish and despise the Princes themselves!”

  “If Christ assures us,” he continues in this same letter, one of the first dispatched after his “Patmos” at the Wartburg, “that the Father has placed all things under His feet, it is certain that He lieth not; ‘all things’ must also comprise the mighty ones assembled at Nuremberg, not to speak of that Dresden bubble [Duke George of Saxony]. Let them therefore set about deposing Christ. We, however, will calmly look on while the Father Almighty preserves His Son at His right hand from the face and the tail of these smoking firebrands” (Isa. vii. 4). Should a rising or a tumult among the people ensue “which cannot be suppressed by force, then that will be the Lord’s own work; He conceals the danger from the sight of the Princes; and, owing to their blindness and rebellion, He will work such things that methinks all Germany will be deluged with blood. We shall ‘set ourselves like a hedge before God in favour of the land and the people’ (Ezek. xxii. 30), in this day of His great wrath, wherefore do you and your people pray for us.”

  These words were addressed to an old Augustinian friend to whom he showed himself undisguisedly and in his true colours. In the same letter he has it that he considers it quite certain that Carlstadt, Gabriel Zwilling and the fanatical Anabaptists were preaching without any real call, in fact, against God’s will. To himself he applies the words of our Redeemer: “He Whom God has sent speaketh the words of God” (John iii. 34), and “He that seeketh the glory of Him that sent Him is true” (John vii. 18). Fully convinced of the Divine inspiration and compulsion he exclaims: “For this reason did I yield to necessity and return [from the Wartburg], viz. that I might, if God wills, put an end to this devils’ uproar” (of the fanatics).

  If Luther sought to show the fanatics that their fruits bore witness against them and their doctrine, it is worthy of note that Staupitz, his former Superior, about this very time, confronted Luther with the disastrous fruits of his action, in order to dissuade him from the course he was pursuing. Staupitz, who so far had been his patron, had grown apprehensive of the character of the movement. His warning, however, only acted as oil on the flame of the enthusiasm then surging up in Luther. In his reply, dated in May, 1522, we find the real Luther, the prophet full of his own great plans: “You write that my undertaking is praised [by discreditable people], and by those who frequent houses of ill-fame, and that much scandal has been given by my latest writings. I am not surprised at this, neither am I apprehensive. It is certain that we for our part have been careful to proclaim the pure Word without causing any tumult; the good and the bad alike make use of this Word, and this, as you know, we cannot help.... For we do
what Christ foretold when He commanded the angels to collect and remove out of His Kingdom all scandals. Father, I cannot do otherwise than destroy the Kingdom of the Pope, the Kingdom of abomination and wickedness together with all its train. God is already doing this without us, without any assistance from us, merely by His Word. The end of this Kingdom is come before the Lord. The matter far exceeds our powers of comprehension.... Great commotion of minds, great scandals and great signs must follow, in view of God’s greatness. But, dear father, I hope this will not trouble you; God’s plan is visible in these things and His mighty hand. You will remember that at the outset everybody thought my undertaking suspicious, doubtful and altogether too bad, and yet it has held the field and will hold its own in spite of your apprehensions; only have patience. Satan feels the smart of his wound, and that is why he rages so greatly and sets all at loggerheads. But Christ Who has begun the work will trample him under foot; and the gates of hell will do their worst, but all in vain.”

  So perverted an application of the promise solemnly made by Christ to the Church of Peter, that the gates of hell should not prevail against it, had surely never before been heard. Words such as these would even sound incredible did we not learn from the same letter into what a state of nervous excitement the ban and excommunication had plunged him. At Antwerp, Jacob Probst, one of his followers, was to be burned with two of his comrades, and in various localities Luther’s writings, by order of the authorities, were being consigned to the flames. This it was which made him say in his letter: “My death by fire is already under discussion; but I only defy Satan and his myrmidons the more that the day of Christ may be hastened, when an end will be put to Antichrist. Farewell, father, and pray for me.... The Evangel is a scandal to the self-righteous and to all who think themselves wise.”