Possessed, like Luther, by a positive craze for seeing diabolical intervention everywhere, Bugenhagen shared his superstitions to the full. He it was who knew how to expel the devil from the churn by what Luther termed the “best” method, which certainly was the coarsest imaginable. When, in December, 1536, a storm broke over Wittenberg he vied with Luther in declaring, that since it was quite out of the order of nature, it must be altogether satanic (“plane sathanicum”).
He discerned the work of the devil just as clearly in the persistence of Catholicism and its resistance to Lutheranism. “Dear Lord Jesus Christ,” he writes, “arise with Thy Holy Angels and thrust down into the abyss of hell the diabolical murder and blasphemy of Antichrist.” Elsewhere he prays in similar fashion, “that God would put to shame the devil’s doctrines and idolatries of the Pope and save poor people from the errors of Antichrist.” Among all the qualities he had acquired from Luther, his patron and model, this hatred — which the Sectarians of the new faith who differed from Luther were also made to feel — is perhaps the most striking. In his case, however, fanaticism was tempered with greater coolness and calculation. For calm obstinacy Bugenhagen in many ways recalls Calvin.
When Superintendent of the Saxon Electorate he introduced into the Litanies a new petition: “From the blasphemy, cruel murder and uncleanness of Thine enemies the Turk and the Pope, graciously deliver us.”
With delight he was able to write to Luther from Denmark, that the Mass was forbidden throughout the country and that the mendicant Friars had been driven over the borders as “sedition-mongers” and “blasphemers” because they refused to accept the King’s offers (“some of them were hanged”). The Canons had everywhere been ordered to attend the Lutheran Communion on festivals; the four thousand parishes had now to be preserved in the new faith which had dawned upon the land. Bugenhagen, on August 12, 1537, a few weeks after his arrival, vested in alb and cope, and with great ecclesiastical pomp, had placed the crown on the head of King Christian III. who had already given the Catholics a foretaste of what was to come and had caused all the bishops to be imprisoned.
“All proceeds merrily,” Luther told Bucer on December 6, “God is working through Pomeranus; he crowned the King and Queen like a true bishop. He has given a new span of life to the University [of Copenhagen].” Bugenhagen was inexorable in his extirpation of the worship of “Antichrist” in Denmark, even down to the smallest details. To the King, concerning a statue of Pope St. Lucius in the Cathedral Church at Roskilde, he wrote, that this must be removed; it was an exact representation of the Pauline prophecy concerning Antichrist; the sword, which the Pope carried in his hand as the symbol of his death, Bugenhagen regarded as emblematic of the cruelty of the Popes, who now preferred to cut off the heads of others and to arrogate to themselves authority over all kings and rulers; if a true likeness of the Pope was really wanted, then he would have to be represented as a devil with claws and a fiendish countenance, and be decked out in a golden mantle, a staff, a sword and three crowns; from such a book the laity would be able to read the truth.
Justus Jonas, who, of all his acquaintances, remained longest with Luther at Wittenberg, like Bugenhagen, bestowed upon the master his enduring veneration and friendship. His numerous translations of Luther’s works are in themselves a proof of his warm attachment to his ideas and of his rare affinity to him. He, next to Melanchthon and Bugenhagen, was the clearest-headed and most active assistant in the affairs of Wittenberg, and his name frequently appears, together with those of Luther and the two other intimates, among the signatures appended to memoranda dealing with matters ecclesiastical.
To the close relationship between Luther and Jonas many interesting details preserved in the records remain to attest.
Jonas once dubbed Luther a Demosthenes of rhetoric. Luther in his turn praised Jonas not merely for his translations, but also for his sermons; he had all the gifts of a good orator, “save that he cleared his throat too often.” Yet he also accuses him of conceit for declaring that “he knew all that was contained in Holy Scripture” and also for his annoyance and surprise at the doubts raised concerning the above assertion.
On the other hand, the bitter hostility displayed by Jonas towards all Luther’s enemies, pleased the latter. Jonas, taking up the thread of the conversation, remarked on one occasion to the younger guests at Luther’s table: “Remember this definition: A Papist is a liar and a murderer, or the devil himself. They are not to be trusted in the least, for they thirst after our blood.”
His opinion of Jacob Schenk coincided with that of Luther: His “head is full of confused notions”; he was as “poison” amongst the Wittenberg theologians, so that Bugenhagen did well in refusing him his daughter in marriage. Of Agricola he remarked playfully, when the latter had uttered the word “oportet” (it must be): “The ‘must’ must be removed; the salt has got into it and we refuse to take it.” Whereupon Luther replied: “He must swallow the ‘must’ but I shall put such salt into it that he will want to spit it out again.” No one, so well as Jonas, knew how to cheer up Luther, hence Katey sometimes invited him to table secretly. It is true that his chatter sometimes proved tiresome to the other guests, for one of them, viz. Cordatus, laments that he interrupted Luther’s best sayings with his endless talk. The truth is, of course, that the pupils were anxious to drink in words from Luther’s own lips. Luther for his part encouraged his friend when the latter was oppressed by illness or interior anxieties. Jonas suffered from calculus, and, during one of his attacks, Luther said to him: “Your illness keeps you watchful and troubled, it is of more use to you than ten silver mines. God knows how to direct the lives of His own people and we must obey Him, each one according to our calling. Beloved God, how is Thy Church distracted both within and without!” When Jonas on one occasion, being already unwell, was greatly troubled with scruples of conscience and doubts about the faith (“tentatus gravissime”), Luther sent him, all written out, the consoling words with which he himself was wont to find comfort in similar circumstances: “Have I not been found worthy to be called to the service of the Word and been commanded, under pain of Thine everlasting displeasure, to believe what has been revealed to me and in no way to doubt it?... Act manfully and strengthen your heart, all ye that hope in God.”
In the matter of faith Jonas was easily contented, and, for this, Luther praised him; since a man could not comprehend the Articles, it was sufficient for him to begin with a mere assent (“ut incipiamus tantum assentiri”). This theology actually appealed to Luther so much that he exclaimed: “Yes, dear Dr. Jonas, if a man could believe it as it stands, his heart would burst for joy! That is sure. Hence we shall never attain to its comprehension.” On Ascension Day, 1540, Luther’s pupils wrote down these words which fell from his lips: “I am fond of Jonas, but if he were to ascend up to heaven and be taken from us, what should I then think?... Strange, I cannot understand it and cannot believe it, and yet all the Apostles believed.... Oh, if only a man could believe it!”
Jonas found the faith amongst the country people around Wittenberg so feeble and barren of fruit, that, on one occasion, he complained of it with great anger. Luther sought to pacify him: God’s chastisement will fall upon those peasants in due time; God is strong enough to deal with them. He added, however, admitting that Jonas was right: “Is it not a disgrace that in the whole Wittenberg district only one peasant can be found in all the villages who seriously exhorts his household in the Word of God and the Catechism? The others are all going to the devil!”
Justus Jonas, whose real name was Jodocus (Jobst) Koch, was a native of Nordhausen in the province of Saxony. He, like Bugenhagen, could not boast of a theological education as he had devoted himself to jurisprudence, and, as an enthusiastic Erasmian, to Humanism. In 1514 or 1515 he became priest at Erfurt, and in 1518 Doctor of Civil and Canon Law, at the same time securing a comfortable canonry. He attached himself to Luther during the latter’s journey to Worms, and in July, 1521, migrated to Wit
tenberg, where he lectured at the University on Canon Law and also on theology, after having been duly promoted to the dignity of Doctor in the theological Faculty; at the same time he was provost of the Schlosskirche.
In 1522 he married a Wittenberg girl, and, in the following year, vindicated this step against Johann Faber in “Adv. J. Fabrum, scortationis patronum, pro coniugio sacerdotali,” just as Bugenhagen after his marriage had found occasion to defend in print priestly matrimony. In 1523 he lectured on Romans. Of his publications his translations of Luther’s works were particularly prized.
His practical mind, his schooling in the law, and his business abilities, no less than the friendship of Luther bestowed upon a man so ready with the pen, procured for him his nomination as dean of the theological Faculty; this position he retained from 1523 till 1533. Jonas, the “theologian by choice,” as Luther termed him in contradistinction to Amsdorf, the “theologian by nature,” took part in all the important events connected with Lutheranism, in the Conference at Marburg, the Diet of Augsburg and the Visitations in the Saxon Electorate from 1528 onwards, also in the introduction of the innovations into the Duchy of Saxony in 1539. In 1541 he introduced the new church-system in the town of Halle, which till then had been the residence of the Cardinal-Elector, Albert of Mayence. From the time of the War of Schmalkalden and the misfortunes which ensued, his interior troubles grew into a mental malady. Melanchthon speaks of his “animus ægrotus.” His was a form of the “morbus melancholicus” which we meet with so often at that time amongst disappointed and broken-down men within the Protestant fold, and which was unquestionably due to religious troubles. According to the report of one Protestant, Cyriacus Schnauss (1556), and of a certain anonymous writer, his death († October 9, 1555), was happier than his life. To the darker side of his character belongs the malicious and personal nature of his polemics, as experienced, for instance, by Johann Faber and Wicel, whom he attacked with the weapon of calumny, and his “constant, often petty, concern in the increase of his income.”
CHAPTER XX
ATTEMPTS AT UNION IN VIEW OF THE PROPOSED COUNCIL
1. Zürich, Münster, the Wittenberg Concord, 1536
The tension between Luther and the Swiss theologians grew ever greater after Zwingli’s death. Zwingli’s successors complained bitterly of the unkind treatment and the reprobation meted out at Wittenberg to themselves, as well as to Zwingli’s memory, and their doctrines.
Leo Judæ, one of the leaders of the Swiss party, writing in 1534 to Bucer, a kindred spirit, concerning the latter’s rough treatment of Schwenckfeld, takes the opportunity to voice his bitter grudge against Luther: “If it is right to oppose Schwenckfeld, why do we not write in the same way against Luther? Why do we not issue a proclamation warning people against him, seeing that he advocates theories, not only on the Sacrament but on other matters too, which are utterly at variance with Holy Scripture? Yet he hands us over to Satan and decrees our exclusion.”
Martin Bucer himself complained in 1534 to his Zwinglian friend Bullinger: “The fury is intolerable with which Luther storms and rages against everyone who he imagines differs from him, even though not actually an opponent. Thus he curses the most pious men and those who have been of the greatest service to the Church. It is this alone which has brought me into the arena and induced me to join my voice to yours in this controversy on the Sacrament.”
Heinrich Bullinger, on whom, after Zwingli’s death, devolved the leadership of the Swiss innovators, wrote later to Bucer: “Luther’s rude hostility might be allowed to pass would he but leave intact respect for Holy Scripture.... To such lengths has this man’s proud spirit carried him, while all the preachers and ministers worship his writings as so many oracles, and extol his spirit as apostolic, of whose fulness all have received. What has already taken place leads us to apprehend that this man will eventually bring great misfortune upon the Church.”
Just as Luther’s work differed from the religious innovations in Switzerland, so it differed equally, or even more, from that of the Anabaptists, despite the fact that the latter traced their origin to Luther’s doctrine of the Bible as the one source of faith, and were largely indebted to him for the stress he had laid on the inward Word. “The Anabaptist movement was a product of the religious innovations of the sixteenth century,” “the fanatical sect an outcome of the so-called Reformation.” Notwithstanding the severe persecution they encountered, particularly in Switzerland and in the German uplands, they soon spread throughout other parts of Germany, thanks chiefly to the attractions of their conventicle system. An Imperial mandate of January 4, 1528, imposed the death penalty on Anabaptist heretics, their sacrilegious repetition of baptism being taken as equivalent to a denial of this sacrament and therefore as a capital offence against religion.
The growth of the Anabaptist heresy, in spite of all measures of repression, filled Luther with astonishment, but its explanation is to be found not only in the religious subjectivism let loose among the masses, but also in the fact, that, many elements of revolt smouldering even before Luther’s day helped to further the Anabaptist conflagration. The fanatics also gained many adherents among those who were disappointed in Luther owing to their hopes that he would ameliorate morals not being realised; instead of returning to the true Church they preferred to put their trust in these new sects, thinking that their outward rigour was a guarantee that they would amend the life of the people. The popular preaching and ways of the Anabaptist missioners, recalling the apostolic age of the Church, had a powerful effect upon those of the lower classes who had religious leanings; the sufferings and persecution they endured with such constancy also earned them admiration and sympathy. The sectarians were proud of “the self-sacrificing brotherly love existing in their communities, so different from the stress laid upon a faith only too often quite barren of good works.”
They were so firm in their repudiation of the Lutheran doctrine of Justification and held fast so frankly to the Catholic principle of the necessity of man’s co-operation in order to secure God’s pardon, that Luther angrily classed them with the Papists: “They are foxes,” he wrote, “who are tied to the Papists by their tails, though the head is different; they behave outwardly as though they were their greatest enemies, and yet they share with them the same heresy against Christ our only Saviour, Who alone is our Righteousness.” The Anabaptists also opposed the Lutheran doctrine of the Supper, denying, like the Zwinglians, the Real Presence. Their congregations, however, differed vastly both in belief and in observance. To all intents and purposes their strictness was merely outward, serving to cloak the vices of their lives and their frivolous enjoyment of the “freedom of the Gospel.”
Luther’s hostility to the Anabaptists was in many respects of service to Lutheranism; it was inspired and promoted by the law of self-preservation. The culmination of the movement at Münster, in Westphalia, showed that the Wittenberger’s instinct had not erred. It is true, however, that Luther’s harsh and repellent conduct towards the Anabaptist sects caused the loss to the Protestants of much that was good which might well have been retained had he shown a little more consideration at least for the better minds among the “fanatics”; their criticism might have done much to remedy what was really amiss.
When, in 1534, the Anabaptists became all-powerful at Münster, and that under their very worst form, they made haste to attack Luther. He, of course, was in duty bound to disapprove of their fearsome excesses, particularly when the freedom of the Evangel degenerated into obligatory polygamy and the most revolting service of the flesh. The seditious spirits, in their hatred, declared that “there are two false prophets, the Pope and Luther, but that, of the two, Luther is the worse.” Luther, on his side, retorted: “Alas, what can I write of these wretched creatures at Münster? It is perfectly evident that the devil reigns there in person, yea, one devil sits on the back of another, like the toads do.”
After the siege of Münster had closed in its capture on June 25, 1535, a
nd the reign of terror had been brought to an end by the execution of the leaders, viz. Johann of Leyden and his friends, some of Luther’s followers turned their attention to the Sacramentarian Zwinglians of Switzerland and South Germany, in the hope that some basis might be found for union.
Paul III. had ascended the Papal throne in 1534. On his showing a real intention to summon an [Œcumenical Council in order to put an end to the religious schism, the Reformers began to feel keenly how necessary it was to unite for the purpose of offering practical resistance to their common foe, viz. Catholicism. The political situation was likewise favourable to such efforts. The Nuremberg truce in 1532 had expressly been intended to last only for a limited period, hence the necessity to find new means to make their position secure and increase their numbers.
In 1535 a star of hope which seemed to forebode some agreement rose on the horizon. On this Luther wrote as follows to a trusted friend in August: “An attempt is being made, with great hopes and yearning, to come to some agreement (‘concordia’) between ourselves and the Sacramentarians. Christ grant it to be realised and of His Goodness remove that great scandal so that strong measures may not be necessary as at Münster.” Hence the Swiss theologians in his eyes were scarcely better than the authors of the disgraceful abominations in Westphalia.
What sort of “concord” was to be expected while such a temper held sway unless, indeed, the Zwinglians were prepared to renounce their own existence and throw their master overboard?
The prime movers in the attempt to bring about an understanding between the Lutherans and the Swiss and the like-minded Evangelicals of Upper Germany, were the Landgrave Philip of Hesse, and the theologian Martin Bucer.
Collected Works of Martin Luther Page 709
