Hartmann Grisar

THE CHANGE OF 1515 IN THE LIGHT OF THE COMMENTARY ON ROMANS (1515-16)

1. The New Publications

Luther’s lectures on the Epistle to the Romans which, as mentioned above (p. 93), he delivered at Wittenberg from April, 1515, to September or October, 1516, existed till recently (1904-8) only in MS. form. To Denifle belongs the merit of having first drawn public attention to this important source of information, which he exploited, and from the text of which he furnished long extracts according to the Vatican Codex palatinus lat. 1826.[447] The MS. referred to, containing the scholia, is a copy by Aurifaber of the lectures which Luther himself wrote out in full, and once belonged to the library of Ulrich Fugger, whence it came to the Palatina at Heidelberg, and, ultimately, on the transference of the Palatina to Rome, found its way to the Vatican Library. It was first made use of by Dr. Vogel, and then, in 1899, thoroughly studied by Professor Joh. Ficker.[448] While the work was in process of publication the original by Luther’s own hand was discovered in 1903 in the Codex lat. theol. 21,4º of the State Library in Berlin, or rather rediscovered, for it had already been referred to in 1752 in an account of the library.[449] According to this MS., which also contains the glosses,[450] the Commentary, after having been collated with the Roman MS., which is frequently inaccurate, was edited with a detailed introduction at Leipzig in 1908 by Joh. Ficker, Professor at Strasburg University; it forms the first volume of a collection entitled “AnfÄnge reformatorischer Bibelauslegung.”

Denifle’s preliminary excerpts were so ample and exact that, as a comparison with what has since been published proves, they afforded a trustworthy insight into a certain number of Luther’s doctrinal views of decisive value in forming an opinion on the general course of his development.[451] But it is only now, with the whole work before us, scholia and glosses complete, that it is possible to give a fair and well-founded account of the ideas which were coming to the front in Luther. The connection between different points of his teaching appears in a clearer light, and various opinions are disclosed which were fresh in Luther’s mind, and upon which Denifle had not touched, but which are of great importance in the history of his growth. Among such matters thus brought to light were Luther’s gloomy views on God and predestination, with which we shall deal in our next section.

The Epistle of St. Paul to the Romans ranks first among all his letters for the depth of thought and wealth of revelation which it contains. It treats of the most exalted questions of human thought, and handles the most difficult problems of Christian faith and hope. Its subject-matter is the eternal election of the Gentile and Jewish world to salvation in Christ; the guidance of the heathen by the law of nature, and of the Jews by the Mosaic law; the powers of man when left to himself, and of man supernaturally raised; the universality and potency of the saving grace of Christ, and the manner of its appropriation in justification by faith; finally the life, death and resurrection in which the Christian, through faith, unites himself with Christ.[452]

We may doubt whether the young Doctor of Wittenberg was qualified to grapple with so great a task as the explanation of this charter of faith, especially bearing in mind his comparatively insignificant knowledge of the Fathers of the Church and the theological literature of the past, his impetuosity in dealing with recondite questions, and his excitable fancy which always hurried in advance of his judgment. At any rate, he himself thought his powers sufficient for a work on which the most enlightened minds of the Church had tested their abilities. He immediately followed up this Commentary with other lectures on certain epistles of St. Paul, wherein the Apostle discloses the depths of his knowledge.

On perusing the lengthy pages of the Commentary on Romans we are amazed at the eloquence of the young author, at his dexterity in description and his skill in the apt use of biblical quotations; but his manner of working contrasts very unfavourably with that of the older Commentators on the Epistle, such as Thomas of Aquin with his brevity and definiteness and, particularly, his assurance in theological matters. Luther’s mode of treating the subject is, apart from other considerations, usually too rhetorical and not seldom quite tedious in its amplitude.

The work, with its freedom both in its language and its treatment of the subject, reveals many interesting traits which go to make up a picture of Luther’s inward self.

He starts with the assumption that the whole of the Epistle was intended by its author to “uproot from the heart the feeling of self-righteousness and any satisfaction in the same,” and—to use his own odd expression—“to implant, establish and magnify sin therein (‘plantare, ac constituere et magnificare peccatum’).”[453] “Although there may be no sin in the heart or any suspicion of its existence,” he declares, we ought and must feel ourselves to be full of sin, in contradistinction to the grace of Christ from Whom alone we receive what is pleasing to God.

In his passionate opposition to the real or imaginary self-righteous he allows himself, in these lectures, to be drawn into an ever deeper distrust of man’s ability to do anything that is good. The nightmare of self-righteousness never leaves him for a moment. His attack would have been justifiable if he had merely been fighting against sinful self-righteousness which is really selfishness, or against the delusion that natural morality will suffice before God. Nor does it appear who is defending such erroneous ideas against him, or which school upheld the thesis Luther is always opposing, viz. that there is a saving righteousness which arises, is preserved, and works without the preventing and accompanying grace of God. It is, however, clear that there was in his own soul a dislike for works; so strong in fact is his feeling in this regard that he simply calls all works “works of the law,” and cannot be too forcible in demonstrating the antagonism of the Apostle to their supposed over-estimation. Probably one reason for his selection of this Epistle for interpretation was that it appeared to him to agree even better than other biblical works with his own ideas against “self-righteousness.” We must now consider in detail some of the leading ideas of the Commentary on Romans.

2. Gloomy Views regarding God and Predestination

The tendency to a dismal conception of God plays, in combination with his ideas on predestination, an incisive part in Luther’s Commentary on Romans, which, so far, has received too little attention. The tendency is noticeable throughout his early mental history. He was never able to overcome his former temptations to sadness and despair on account of the possibility of his irrevocable predestination to hell, sufficiently to attain to the joy of the children of God and to the trustful recognition of God’s general and certain will for our salvation. The advice which Staupitz, among others, gave him was assuredly correct, viz. to take refuge in the wounds of Christ, and Luther probably tried to follow it. But we do not learn that he paid diligent heed to the further admonitions of the ancient ascetics, to exert oneself in the practice of good works, as though one’s predestination depended entirely on the works one performs with the grace of God. On the contrary, of set purpose, he avoided any effort on his own part and preferred the misleading mystical views of Quietism.

The melancholy idea of predestination again peeps out unabashed in the passage in his Commentary on the Psalms, where he says, that Christ “drank the cup of pain for His elect, but not for all.”[454]

If he set out to explain the Epistle to the Romans with a gloomy conception of God, in which we recognise the old temptations regarding predestination, owing to his misapprehension of certain passages of the Epistle concerning God’s liberty and inscrutability in the bestowal of grace, his ideas, as he advances, become progressively more stern and dismal. The editor of the Commentary remarks, not without reason, on the forcible way in which Luther, “even in chapter i., emphasises the sovereignty of the Will of God.”[455] It is true of many, Luther says there, that God gives them up to the desires of their heart, unto uncleanness (cp. Rom. i. 24), nor is this merely a permission, but an appointment and command (“non tantum permissio, sed commissio et iussio”).[456] In such a case God commands the devil or the flesh to tempt a man and conquer him. It is true that when God chooses to act graciously He prevents the evil; but He also wills to be severe and to punish, and “then He makes the wicked to sin more abundantly (‘facit abundantius peccare’)”; then “He forsakes a man so that he may not be able to resist the devil, who carries out the order and the Will of God in bringing about his fall.”

The youthful University Professor believes that he is here teaching a “more profound theology.” No one was to come to him, he says, with the shallow and hackneyed assertion that, on the above hypothesis, man’s free will was destroyed; only narrow minds (“rudiores”) take exception at this “profundior theologia.”[457] The teaching of this new theology was the following:

“This man may do what he pleases, it is God’s will that he should be overcome by sin.” “It is true that God does not desire the sin, although He wills that it shall take place (‘non sequitur quod Deus peccatum velit, licet ipsum velit fieri’); for He only wills that it shall happen, in order to manifest in man the greatness of His anger and His severity by punishing in him the sin which He hates.” “It is therefore on account of the punishment that God wills that the sin shall be committed.... God alone may will such a thing” (“Hoc autem soli Deo licitum est velle”),[458] and he repeats fearlessly: “in order that all misery and shame may be heaped upon the man, God wills he should commit this sin.”[459] He fancies he is communicating to his pupils “the highest secrets of theology,” meant only for the perfect, when he assures them that both statements are right: God wills to oblige me and all men [to do what is good] and yet He does not give His grace to all, but only to whom He will, reserving to Himself the choice. Some it does not please Him to justify because He manifests so much the more through them His honour in the elect; in the same way He also wills sin, though only indirectly, viz. “that He may be glorified in the elect.” Hence we must not make it a mere matter of permission, for “how would God permit it unless it were His will?” “Senseless chatter,” thus he describes the unanimous contrary teaching of theologians, “such is the objection they raise that man would thus be damned without any fault on his part, because he could not fulfil the law and was expected to do what was impossible.”—We can only ask how his own method is to be described when he contents himself with this solution: “If that objection had any weight it would follow that it was not necessary to preach, to pray, to exhort, and Christ’s death would also not be necessary. Yet by means of all this God has chosen to save His elect.”[460]

Luther, as this somewhat lengthy passage shows, had, at any rate at that time, no bright, kindly idea of God’s Nature, Goodness and inexhaustible Mercy, which wills to make every creature here on earth happy and to save them in eternity; his mind was imprisoned within the narrow limits to which he had before this accustomed himself; a false conception of God’s essence—perhaps a remainder of his Occamist training—was already poisoning the very vitals of his theology.

His melancholy conception of God comes to light not only in the various passages where he speaks of predestination, but also in the dark pictures, which, in his morbid frame of mind, he paints of the wickedness and sin of man pitting his unquenchable concupiscence against God, the All Holy.[461] In order to adore this stern and cruel God in his own way he had already built up on his false mysticism a practical theory of resignation and self-surrender to whatever might be the Divine Will, even should it destine him to damnation. In the first pages of the Commentary on Romans his idea of God enables him to proclaim loudly and boldly, and with full knowledge of what he is doing, his opposition to the religious practice of his many zealous contemporaries, whether clerics or laymen.

Many have, according to him, an idea of God different from his: “Oh, how many there are to-day who do not worship God as He is, but as they imagine Him to be. Look at their singularities and their superstitious rites, full of delusions. They give up what they ought to practise, they choose out the works by which they will honour Him, they fancy that God is such that He looks down upon them and their works.” “There is spread abroad to-day a sort of idolatry by which God is not served as He is. The love of their own ideas and their own righteousness entirely blinds mankind, and they call it ‘good intention.’ They imagine that God is thereby graciously disposed to them, whereas it is not so: and so they worship their phantom God rather than the true God.”[462]

Neither do they understand how to pray, because they do not know the awfulness of God. Does not the Scripture say; he asks them: “Serve ye the Lord with fear and rejoice unto Him with trembling” (Ps. ii. 11), and “with fear and trembling work out your salvation” (Phil. ii. 12)? Not wanting to look at their own works as “bad and suspicious” in the eyes of this God, “they do not assiduously call upon His grace.” They assume that their good intention arises out of themselves, whereas it is a gift of God, and desire to prepare themselves for the infusion of grace.[463] “Pelagian notions are at the bottom of all this. No one acknowledges himself now to be a Pelagian, but many are so unconsciously, with their principle that free will must set to work to obtain grace.”[464]

Such is the perilous position he reaches under the influence of his distaste for works, viz. a violent antagonism to free will. Man is unable to do the least thing to satisfy this Holy God.[465] The Occamist theology of the school in which he was trained here serves him in good stead, as the following sentences, which are closely akin to Occam’s acceptation-theory, show: “We must always be filled with anxiety, ever fear and await the Divine acceptance”; for as all our works are in themselves evil, “only those are good which God imputes as good; they are in fact something or nothing, only in so far as God accepts them or not.” “The eternal God has chosen good works from the beginning that they should please Him,”[466] “but how can I ever know that my deed pleases God? How can I even know that my good intention is from God?”[467] Hence, away with the proud self-righteous (“superbi iustitiarii”) who are so sure of their good works!

Fear, desponding humility and self-annihilation, according to Luther, are the only feelings one can cherish in front of this terrible, unaccountable God.[468] “He who despairs of himself is the one whom God accepts.”[469]

He also speaks of a certain “pavor Dei,” which is the foundation of salvation: “trepidare et terreri” is the best sign, as it is said in Psalm cxliii.: “Shoot out Thy arrows and Thou shalt trouble them,” the “terrens Deus” leads to life.[470] True love does not ask any enjoyment from God, rather, he here repeats, whoever loves Him from the hope of being made eternally happy by Him, or from fear of being wretched without Him, has a sinful and selfish love (“amor concupiscentiÆ”); but to allow the terrors of God to encompass us, to be ready to accept from Him the most bitter interior and exterior cross, to all eternity, that only is perfect love. And even with such love we are dragged into thick interior darkness.[471]

All these gloomy thoughts which cloud his mind, gather, when he comes to explain chapters viii. and ix. of the Epistle to the Romans, where the Apostle deals with the question of election to grace.

Luther thinks he has here found in St. Paul the doctrine of predestination, not only to heaven, but also to hell, expressed, moreover, in the strongest terms. At the same time he warns his hearers against faint-heartedness, being well aware how dangerous his views might prove to souls.

“Let no one immerse himself in these thoughts who is not purified in spirit, lest he sink into an abyss of horror and despair; the eyes of the heart must first be purified by contemplating the wounds of Christ. I discourse upon these matters solely because the trend of the lectures leads up to them, and because they are unavoidable. It is the strongest wine there is, and the most perfect food, a solid nourishment for the perfect; it is that most exalted theology of which the Apostle says (1 Cor. ii. 6): ‘we speak wisdom among the perfect’ ... only the perfect and the strong should study the first book of the Sentences [because predestination is dealt with at the end of Peter Lombard’s first book]; it should really be the last and not the first book; to-day many who are unprepared jump at it and then go away blinded in spirit.”[472]

Luther teaches that the Apostle’s doctrine is: God did not in their lifetime exercise His mercy towards the damned; He is right and not to be blamed when He follows herein His own supreme will alone. “Why then does man murmur as though God were not acting according to the law?” His will is, for every man, the highest good. Why should we not desire, and that with the greatest fervour, the fulfilment of this will, since it is a will which can in no way be evil? “You say: Yes, but for me it is evil. No, it is evil for none. The only evil is that men cannot understand God’s will and do it”; they should know that even in hell they are doing God’s will if it is His wish that they should be there.[473]

Hence the only way he knows out of the darkness he has himself created is recognition of, and resignation to, the possibility of a purely arbitrary damnation by God. The expressions he here makes use of for reprobation, “inter reprobos haberi,” “damnari,” “morte Æterna puniri” make it plain that he demands resignation to actual reprobation and to being placed on a footing with the damned. Yet, as he always considers this resignation as the most perfect proof of acquiescence in the Will of God, it does not, according to him, include within itself a readiness to hate God, but, on the contrary, the strongest and highest love.[474] With such an exalted frame of mind, however, the actual penalty of hell would cease to exist. “It is impossible that he should remain apart from God who throws himself so entirely into the Will of God. He wills what God wills, therefore he pleases God. If he pleases God, then he is loved by God; if he is loved by God, then he is saved.”[475] That he is thus cutting the ground from under his hypothesis of an inevitable predestination to hell by teaching how we can escape it, does not seem to strike him. Or does he, perhaps, mean that only those who are not predestined to hell can thus overcome the fear of hell? Will such resignation be possible to him who really believes himself destined to hell, and who sees even in his resignation no means whereby he can escape it?

To such a one even the “wounds of Christ” offer no assurance and no place of refuge. They only speak to man of the God of revelation, not of the mysterious, unsearchable God. The untenable and insulting comparison between the mysterious and the revealed Supreme Being which Luther was later on to institute is here already foreshadowed.

He explains in detail how the will of man does not in the least belong to the person who wills, or the road to the runner. “All is God’s, who gives and creates the will.” We are all instruments of God, who works all in all. Our will is like the saw and the stick—examples which he repeatedly employs later in his harshest utterances concerning the slavery of the will. Sawing is the act of the hand which saws, but the saw is passive; the animal is beaten, not by the stick, but by him who holds the stick. So the will also is nothing, but God who wields it is everything.[476]

Hence he rejects most positively the theological doctrine that God foresees the final lot of man as something “contingenter futurum,” i.e. that he sees his rejection as something dependent on man and brought about by his own fault. No, according to Luther, in the election of grace everything is preordained “inflexibili et firma voluntate,” and this, His own will, is alone present in the mind of God.

Luther speaks with scorn of “our subtle theologians,” who drag in their “contingens” and build up an election by grace on “necessitas consequentiÆ, sed non consequentis,” in accordance with the well-known scholastic ideas. “With God there is absolutely no ‘contingens,’ but only with us; for no leaf ever falls from the tree to the earth without the will of the Father.” Besides, the theologians—so he accuses the Scholastics without exception—“have imagined the case so, or at least have led to its being so imagined, as though salvation were obtained or lost through our own free will.”[477]

We know that here he was wrong. As a matter of fact, true Scholasticism attributed the work of salvation to grace together with free will, so that two factors, the Divine and the human, or the supernatural and the natural, are mutually engaged in the same. But Luther, when here reporting the old teaching, does not mention the factor of grace, but only “nostrum arbitrium.”

He then adds: “Thus I once understood it.” If he really ever believed salvation to be exclusively the work of free will, then he erred grievously, and merely proves how defective his study, even of Gabriel Biel, had been.

He also interpreted quite wrongly the view of contemporary and earlier scholastic theologians on the love of God, and, again, by excluding the supernatural factor. He reproaches them with having, so he says, considered the love in question as merely natural (“ex natura”) and yet as wholesome for eternal life, and he demands that all wholesome love be made to proceed “ex Spiritu Sancto,” a thing which all theologians, even the Occamists, had insisted on. He says: “they do not know in the least what love is,”[478] “nor do they know what virtue is, because they allow themselves to be instructed on this point by Aristotle, whose definition is absolutely erroneous.”[479] It makes no impression upon him—perhaps he is even ignorant of the fact—that the Scholastics consider, on good grounds, the love which loves God’s goodness as goodness towards us, and which makes personal salvation its motive, compatible with the perfect love of friendship (amicitiÆ, complacentiÆ).[480] According to him, this love must be extirpated (“amor exstirpandus”) because it is full of abominable self-seeking.[481] In its place he sets up a most perfect love (which will be described below), which includes resignation to, and even a desire for, hell-fire, a resignation such as Christ Himself manifested (!) in His abandonment to suffering.

Luther had now left the safe path of theological and ecclesiastical tradition to pursue his own ideas.

It is true that, notwithstanding his exhortation to be resigned to the holy will of God in every case, he looks with fear at the flood of blasphemies which must arise in the heart of one who fears his own irrevocable, undeserved damnation. Anxious to obviate this, or to arm the conscience against it, when pointing to the wounds of Christ he adds these words: “Should anyone, owing to overmastering temptation, come to blaspheme God, that would not involve his eternal damnation. For even towards the godless our God is not a God of impatience and cruelty. Such blasphemies are forced out of a man by the devil, therefore they may be more pleasing to God’s ear than any Alleluia or song of praise. The more terrible and abominable a blasphemy is, the more pleasing it is to God when the heart feels that it does not acquiesce in it, i.e. when it is involuntary.”[482]

Involuntary thoughts, to which alone he sees fit to refer, are, of course, not deserving of punishment; but are the murmurs and angry complaints against predestination to hell of which he speaks always only involuntary? The way to resignation which he mentions in the same connection is no less questionable. It consists largely in “not troubling about such thoughts.”[483] But will all be able to get so far as this?

He again repeats with great insistence that “everything happens according to God’s choice”; “he upon whom God does not have mercy, remains in the ‘massa’” [perditionis].[484] “For whom it is, it is,” he adds elsewhere in German, “whom it hits, him it hits.”[485] God permits at times even the elect to be reduced, as it were, to nothingness,[486] but only in order that His sole power may be made manifest and that it may quench all proud boasting; for man is so ready to believe that he can by the exercise of his free will rise again, and waxes presumptuous; but here he learns that grace exalts him before and above every choice of his own (“ante omne arbitrium et supra arbitrium suum”).[487]

We shall not here examine more closely his grave misapprehension of the teaching of the Apostle in the Epistle to the Romans, on which he tries to prop up his glaring theory concerning predestination. Suffice it to say that the principal passage to which he refers (Rom. ix. 11 ff.), according to the exegetist Cornely, is not now taken by any expositor to refer to predestination, i.e. to the selection by grace of each individual.[488] The passage treats of the promises made to the Jewish people (as a whole) which were given without desert and freely; but Israel, as St. Paul explains, has, by its fault, rendered itself unworthy of the same and excluded itself (as a whole) from the salvation which the heathen obtain by faith—a reward of Israel’s misdeeds, which, in itself, is incompatible with Luther’s doctrine of an undeserved predestination to hell.[489]

Luther also quotes St. Augustine, but does not interpret him correctly. He even overlooks the fact that this Father, in one of the passages alleged, says the very opposite to his new ideas on unconditional predestination to hell, and attributes in every case the fate of the damned to their own moral misdeeds. Augustine says, in his own profound, concise way, in the text quoted by Luther: “the saved may not pride himself on his merits, and the damned may only bewail his demerits.”[490] In his meditations on the ever-inscrutable mystery he regards the sinner’s fault as entirely voluntary, and his revolt against the eternal God as, on this account, worthy of eternal damnation. Augustine teaches that “to him as to every man who comes into this world” salvation was offered with a wealth of means of grace and with all the merits of Christ’s bitter death on the cross.[491]

Luther also quoted the Bible passages regarding God’s will for the salvation of all men, but only in order to say of them: “such expressions are always to be understood exclusively of the elect.” It is merely “wisdom of the flesh” to attempt to find a will of God that all men be saved in the assurance of St. Paul: “God wills that all men shall be saved” (1 Tim. ii. 4), or “in the passages which say, that He gave His Son for us, that He created man for eternal life, and that everything was created for man, but man for God that he might enjoy Him eternally.”[492]

Other objections which Luther makes he sets aside with the same facility by a reference to the thoughts he has developed above.[493] Thus the first: Why did God give to man free will by means of which he can merit either reward or punishment? His answer is: Where is this free will? Man has no free will for doing what is good. Then a second objection: “God damns no one without sin, and he who is forced to sin is damned unjustly.” The answer to this is new: God ordains it so that those who are to be damned are gladly, even though of necessity, in sin (“dat voluntarie velle in peccato esse et manere et diligere iniquitatem”). Finally, the last objection: “Why does God give them commandments which He does not will them to keep, yea hardens their will so much that they desire to act contrary to the law? Is not God in this case the cause of their sinning and being damned?” “Yes, that is the difficulty,” he admits, “which, as a matter of fact, has the most force; it is the weightiest of all. But to it the Apostle makes a special answer when he teaches: God so wills it, and God Who thus wills, is not evil. Everything is His, just as the clay belongs to the potter and waits on his service.” Enough, he continues, “God commands that the elect shall be saved, and that those who are destined for hell shall be entangled in evil in order that He may show forth His mercy and also His anger.”

It makes one shudder to hear how he cuts short the sighs of the unhappy soul which sees itself a victim of God’s harshness. It complains: “It is a hard and bitter lot that God should seek His honour in my misery!” And Luther replies: “See, there we have the wisdom of the flesh! My misery; ‘my,’ ‘my,’ that is the voice of the flesh. Drop the ‘my’ and say: Be Thou honoured, O Lord.... So long as you do not do that, you are seeking your own will more than the will of God. We must judge of God in a different manner from that in which we judge of man. God owes no man anything.”

“With this hard doctrine,” he concludes, “the knife is placed at the throat of holiness-by-works and fleshly wisdom and therefore the flesh is naturally incensed, and breaks out into blasphemies; but man must learn that his salvation does not depend upon his acts, but that it lies quite outside of him, namely, in God, Who has chosen him.”

He attempts, however, to mingle softer tones with the voices of despair, which, he admits, these theories have let loose. This he can only do at the expense of his own teaching, or by fining it down. He says: whoever is terrified and confused, but then tries to abandon himself with indifference to the severity of God, he, let this be his comfort, is not of the number of those predestined to hell. For only those who are really to be rejected are not afraid[?], “they pay no heed to the danger and say, if I am to be damned, so be it!” On the other hand, confusion and fear are signs of the “spiritus contribulatus,” which, according to his promise, God never rejects (Ps. 1.).

After all, then, we are forced to ask, according to this, is not man to be saved by his own act, namely, the act of heroic indifference to his eternity? For this act remains an act of man: “Whoever is filled with the fear of God, and, taking courage, throws and precipitates himself into the truth of the promises of God, he will be saved, and be one of the elect.”[494]

3. The Fight against “Holiness-by-Works” and the Observantines in the Commentary on Romans

His ideas on predestination were not the direct cause of Luther’s belittling of human effort and the value of good works; the latter tendency was present in him previous to his adoption of rigid predestinarianism; nor does he ever attribute to election by grace any diminution of man’s powers or duties, whether in the case of the chosen or of the reprobate. The same commandments are given to those whom God’s terrible decree has destined for hell as to the elect; they possess the same human abilities, the same weaknesses. It was not predestination which led him in the first instance to attribute such strength to concupiscence in man, and to invest it, as he ultimately did, with an actually sinful and culpable character.

His ideas concerning the absolute corruption of the children of Adam, even to the extinction of any liberty in the doing of what is good, had another origin, and, in their development, were influenced far more by false mysticism than by the predestinarian delusion.

He approached the lectures on the Epistle to the Romans in the conviction that, in this Epistle, he would find the sanction of his earlier efforts against the self-righteous and “holy-by-works,” against whom his peculiar mysticism had still further prejudiced him. From the very outset he interprets the great Apostolic document on the calling of the heathen and the Jews to salvation as directed exclusively against those who, according to him, were imperilling the Church; against those who (whether in his own Order or in Christendom generally) laid stress on the importance of works, on the duty of fulfilling observances and the merit of exercises of virtue for gaining heaven, and who were unmindful of the righteousness which Christ gives us. This is not the place to point out how Paul is speaking in quite another sense, against those Jewish Christians who still adhered to the works of the Mosaic Law, of the merely relative value of works, of the liberty which Christianity imparts and of the saving power of faith.

Luther, however, in the very first lines, tells the “holy-by-works” that the whole purpose of the Epistle to the Romans is a driving back and rooting out of the wisdom and righteousness of the flesh. Among the heathen and the Jews were to be found those who, though “devoted in their hearts to virtue,” yet had not suppressed all self-satisfaction in the same, and looked upon themselves as “righteous and good men”; in the Church, according to Paul, all self-righteousness and wisdom must be torn out of the affections, and self-complacency. God willed to save us not by our own righteousness but by an extraneous righteousness (“non per domesticam sed per extraneam iustitiam vult salvare”), viz. by the imputed righteousness of Christ, and, owing to the exterior righteousness which Christ gives (“externa quÆ ex Christo in nobis est iustitia”), there can be no boasting, nor must there be “any depression on account of the sufferings and trials which come to us from Christ.”[495]

“Christ’s righteousness and His gifts,” he says, “shine in the true Christian.... If any man possesses natural and spiritual advantages, yet this is not considered by God as being his wisdom, righteousness and goodness (‘non ideo coram Deo talis reputatur’), rather, he must wait in humility, as though he possessed nothing, for the pure mercy of God, to see whether He will look upon him as righteous and wise. God only does this if he humbles himself deeply. We must learn to regard spiritual possessions and works of righteousness as worthless for obtaining the righteousness of Christ, we must renounce the idea that these have any value in God’s sight and merit a reward, otherwise we shall not be saved” (“opera iusta velint nihil reputare,” etc.).[496]

Any pretext, or even none at all, serves to bring him back again and again in the work to the “Pelagian-minded iustitiarii.” It is possible that amongst these the “Observantines” ranked first. Our thoughts revert to those of his brother monks, whose cause he had at first defended in the internal struggle within the Congregation, only to turn on them unmercifully afterwards. On one occasion he mentions by name the “Observants,” reproaching them with trying to outshine one another in their zeal for God, while at the same time they had no love of their neighbour, whereas, according to the passage he is just expounding, “the fulness of the law is love.”[497] He would also appear to be referring to them, when, on another occasion, he rails at such monks, who by their behaviour bring their whole profession into disgrace.

“They exalt themselves against other members of their profession,” he cries, “as though they were clean and had no evil odour about them,”[498] and continues in the style of his monastic discourse on the “Little Saints” mentioned above (p. 69 f.). “And yet before, behind and within they are a pig-market and sty of sows ... they wish to withdraw from the rest, whereas they ought, were they really virtuous, to help them to conceal their faults. But in place of patient succour there is nothing in them but peevishness and a desire to be far away (‘quÆrunt fugam ... tediosi sunt et nolunt esse in communione aliorum’). They will not serve those who are good for nothing nor be their companions; they only desire to be the superiors and companions of the worthy, the perfect and the sound. Therefore they run from one place to another.”[499]

The struggle of which this is a picture continued among the German Augustinians. In the spring, 1520, a similar conflict broke out in the Cologne Province, one side having the sympathy of the Roman Conventuals.[500] We can well understand how the General of the Order in Rome was not disposed to grant the exemptions claimed by the Observantines of the Saxon Congregation against his own Provincials.

Luther brandishes his sharp blade against the “spiritually minded, the proud, the stiff-necked, who seek peace in works and in the flesh, the iustitiarii,”[501] without making any sharp distinction between the actual Observantines and the “self-righteous.”

With regard to himself, he admits that he is so antagonistic to the “iustitiarii,” that he is opposed to all scrupulous observance of “iustitia,” to all regulations and strict ordinances:

“The very word righteousness vexes me: if anyone were to steal from me, it would hurt me less than being obliged to listen to the word righteousness. It is a word which the jurists always have on their lips, but there is no more unlearned race than these men of the law, save, perhaps, the men of good intention and superior reason (‘bonÆ-intentionarii seu sublimatÆ rationis’); for I have experienced both in myself and in others, that when we were righteous, God mocked at us.”[502]

4. Attack on Predisposition to Good and on Free Will

The assertion of the complete corruption of human nature owing to the continuance of original sin and the inextinguishable tinder of concupiscence, arose from the above-mentioned position which Luther had taken up with regard to self-righteousness.

Man remains, according to what Luther says in the Commentary on Romans, in spite of all his veneer of good works, so alienated from God that he “does not love but hates the law which forces him to what is good and forbids what is evil; his will, far from seeking the law, detests it. Nature persists in its evil desires contrary to the law; it is always full of evil concupiscence when it is not assisted from above.” This concupiscence, however, is sin. Everything that is good is due only to grace, and grace must bring us to acknowledge this and to “seek Christ humbly and so be saved.”[503]

The descriptions of human doings which the author gives us in eloquent language are not wanting in fidelity and truth to nature, though we cannot approve his inferences. He has a keen eye on others and is unmerciful in his delineation of the faults which he perceived in the pious people around him.

He spies out many who only act from a desire for the praise of men, and who wish to appear, but not really to be, good. How ready are such, he says, to depreciate themselves with apparent humility. Others only do what is right because it gives them pleasure, i.e. from inclination and without any higher motive. Others do it from vain self-complacency; yea, selfishness is present in almost all, and mars their works. Outward routine and a business-like righteousness spoils a great deal. It is to be deplored that, like the Pharisees, they only keep what is commanded in view and long for the rewards of a busy and petty virtue.[504]

In such descriptions he is easily carried too far and is sometimes even obviously unjust. Thus, for instance, of evil practices he makes conscious theories, in order the more readily to gain the upper hand of his adversaries. “They teach,” he cries, “that it is only necessary to keep the law by works and not with the heart ... their efforts are not accompanied with the least inward effort, everything is wholly external.”[505]

In respect of the doctrine of original sin and its consequences in man, he not only magnifies enormously the strength of the concupiscence which remains after baptism, without sufficiently taking into account the spiritual means by which it can be repressed, but gives the most open expression to his belief that concupiscence is actually sin; it is the persistence of original sin, rendering every man actually culpable, even without any consent of the will. The “Non concupisces” of the Ten Commandments—which the Apostle emphasises in his Epistle to the Romans, though in another sense—Luther makes out to be such a prohibition that, by the mere existence of concupiscence, it is daily and hourly sinfully transgressed. He pays no attention to the theology of the Church, which had hitherto seen in the “Non concupisces” a prohibition of any voluntary consent to a concupiscence existing without actual sin.

His attack on free will is very closely bound up with his ideas on concupiscence.

Meanwhile he proceeds, ostensibly following St. Paul, to denounce the principle “he who does what he can,” etc., like wise freewill and the possibility of fulfilling the law.

Paul teaches, for instance, in Romans viii. 3 f.: What the Mosaic law could not do on account of the rebellion of the flesh in man, namely, conquer sin, that God did by the incarnation of His Son, who overcame sin and helps us to fulfil the law; in those who are not born again, sin lives as the “law of sin,” because they are “weak” ?s???e? against the attacks of concupiscence; on the other hand, the saving grace of the gospel frees us from the “law of sin and death.” To the proposition with which Paul introduces this doctrine, viz. that it had not been possible for the law (i.e. the Mosaic Law) to conquer sin, Luther simply adds: “where now is the freedom of the will?[511] ... the holy Apostle Paul says here expressly that the law was unable to condemn [overcome] sin, or even the weakness which proceeds from the flesh. This is nothing else but the doctrine which I have so frequently been insisting upon, that a fulfilling of the law through our own efforts is impossible; it cannot even be said that we have the power to will and to be able, in such a way as God would have us, viz. by grace [thus it is possible to us to perform what is naturally good]; for otherwise grace would not be necessary, but only useful, and otherwise the sin of Adam would not have corrupted our nature, but have left it unimpaired.... It is true that the law of nature is written in the hearts of all; reason also has a natural desire for what is good, but this is selfish, being directed to our own good, not to that which pleases God; only faith working by love is directed towards God. All that nature desires and acquires, goodness, wisdom, virtue and whatever else there is, are evil goods (‘male bona sunt’), because nature, by original sin, is blinded in its knowledge and chained in its affections, and therefore cannot know God, nor love Him above all things nor yet refer all to Him. Therefore it follows that, without faith and love, man is unable to desire, have, or do anything that is good, but only evil, even when he does what is good.” “Without love, i.e. without the assistance of an external and higher power, he sins continually against the law ‘Thou shalt not covet,’ for this commandment requires that we should not appropriate or seek anything for ourselves, but live, act and think for God in all things. This commandment is simply beyond us.”[512]

His object in thus disparaging liberty is not for the present grounded on the Almighty Power of God, as though this stood in its way, or, as was the case later, on predestination, as though its irrefutable decree were incompatible with liberty, but merely on his exaggeration of the results of original sin with regard to doing what is good (i.e. on concupiscence); he simply moves along the old lines of his distaste for good works and for so-called self-righteousness.[513]

His misinterpretation of the Scholastics, due partly to ignorance, partly to the strength of his prejudice against them, here did him very notable service. He says on one occasion: “In their arbitrary fashion they make out that, on the infusion of grace, the whole of original sin is remitted in everyone just like all actual sin, as though sin could thus be removed at once, in the same way as darkness is dispelled by light.... It is true their Aristotle made sin and righteousness to consist in works. Either I never understood them, or they did not express themselves well.”[514] Here there can be no doubt that the former hypothesis is the correct one. That he did not understand his teachers and the school books is apparent from the following remark: If sin were completely removed in confession (“omnia ablata et evacuata”), then he who comes from confession ought to prefer himself to all others, and not look upon himself as a sinner like the rest. Even the Occamists never provided the slightest ground for such an inference, though they admitted in the justified the entire remission of all sin, original as well as actual. Luther had said in the very passage of the Commentary on Romans just quoted: “the remission of sin is, it is true, a real remission, yet not a removal of sin; the removal is only to be hoped for (“quod non sit ablatio peccati, nisi in spe”) from the giving of grace; grace commences the process of the removal in this way, that the sin is no longer imputed as sin.”[515] But, without recalling his own admission that he may possibly have misunderstood the Scholastics, he goes on to speak of the “deliria” of such Doctors.

5. Luther rudely sets aside the older doctrine of Virtue and Sin

In his Commentary on Romans Luther enters upon the domain of theological and philosophical discussion regarding the questions of natural and supernatural morality, the state of grace and the infused habit, sometimes with subtilty, sometimes with coarse invective, but owing to the limits of the present work we are unable to follow him except quite cursorily.

The manner in which he flings his “curses” at the doctrines of Scholasticism is distinctive of him; he says they are entirely compounded of pride and ignorance with regard to sin, to God and the law;[516] “cursed be the word ‘formatum charitate,’ and also the distinction between works according to the substance of the deed and the intention of the Lawgiver.”[517] There is perhaps no previous instance of a learned, exegetical treatise intended for academic consumption being thus spiced with curses.

There are few passages in the Commentary where his false conception of the entire corruption of human nature by original sin and concupiscence comes out so plainly as in the words just quoted. We see here too how this conception leads him to the denial of all liberty for doing what is good, and to the idea of imputation.

We can well understand that he needed St. Augustine to assist him to cover all this. And yet, as though to emphasise his own devious course, he quotes, among other passages, one in which Augustine confutes the view of any sin being present in man simply by reason of concupiscence.

The question which here forces itself upon Luther, viz. how virtue and vice exist in the soul, is of fundamental importance for his view of ethics, and, as it frequently occurs in the Commentary, it must not be passed over.

When he says that virtues and vices do not adhere to the soul, he means the same as what he elsewhere expresses more clearly, viz. that “it depends merely on the gracious will of God whether a thing is good or bad.”[525]

Luther was naturally obliged by his new theology of imputation to declare war on the older theological view of the existence of virtue and vice in the soul.[530] It was in so doing that, in his excitement, he uttered the curses above referred to (p. 209). It was no mere question of words, but of the very foundation of his new theology, a fact which makes his excitement comprehensible.

As a matter of fact, by his application of the theory of imputation he was heading for a “transformation of all values” and drifting towards the admission of a “future life of good and evil” long before modern philosophy had confidently opened up a similar perspective.

6. Preparation for Justification

Notwithstanding the fact that, according to the above exposition in the Commentary on Romans, man has absolutely no freedom of choice for doing what is good and that we cannot know with regard to our works how God will account them, Luther frequently speaks in the same book of the preparation necessary for obtaining justification, namely, by works. Here his feeling and his eloquence come into full play at the expense of clear theology. He does not even take into account the irresistibility of grace, which is the point he is bound to arrive at finally. Christ alone does the work, he says (“soli Christo iustitia relinquitur, soli ipsi opera gratiÆ et spiritus”).[531] On the other hand, the bringing about of justification, at least so far as preparation goes, is imposed upon man. There are “works which predispose to justification,” he teaches (“opera quÆ fiunt prÆparatorie ad iustificationem acquirendam”). “Whoever by his works disposes himself for the grace of justification is already, to a certain extent, righteous; for righteousness largely consists in the will to be righteous.”[532]

7. Appropriation of the righteousness of Christ by humility—Neither “Faith only” nor assurance of Salvation

Luther’s words, quoted above, where he says that Christ fulfilled the law for us, He made His righteousness ours and our sins His (see above, p. 95 f.), show that he applied in the fullest manner the theory of imputation to justification. Man remains a sinner, but the sin is not imputed to him, he is accounted righteous by the imputing to him of what is quite alien to him, viz. the righteousness of Christ. Thus he is at one and the same time the friend and the enemy of God.[539]

The connection between “reputation” as above and Occam’s theory of acceptation is unmistakable.

The nominalistic views of God and of His arbitrary acceptation were the form in which Luther’s ideas were moulded. The general structure of his thoughts was derived from what he had retained of the Nominalism of Occam.[546] On the principal point, however, Luther diverges from the theology of the school of Occam by not admitting in any way the saving grace which the latter teaches. There is with him no such thing as an infused virtue of righteousness.[547] Luther in his doctrine on virtue and vice had already suppressed them as “qualities,” i.e. as objective realities; still more so does he deny that the grace which makes us righteous is in any sense a real “qualitas,” or “habitus”; in fact, he leaves no actual justifying grace whatever actually inherent in man, but merely sees in God a gracious willingness not to regard us as sinners, and to lend us His all-powerful assistance for the struggle against sin (concupiscence and actual sin).

Thus the outlines of the strongest assertions which he makes later as to the imputing of the righteousness of Christ are already apparent in his interpretation of the Epistle to the Romans. Christ alone has assumed the place of what the Catholic calls saving grace. He already teaches what he was to sum up later in the short formula: “Christ Himself is my quality and my formal righteousness,” or, again, what he was to say to Melanchthon in 1536: “Born of God and at the same time a sinner; this is a contradiction; but in the things of God we must not hearken to reason.”[548] His Commentary on Romans prepares us for his later assertions: “The gospel is a teaching having no connection whatever with reason, whereas the teaching of the law can be understood by reason ... reason cannot grasp an extraneous righteousness and, even in the saints, this belief is not sufficiently strong.”[549] “The enduring sin is admitted by God as non-existent; one and the same act may be accepted before God and not accepted, be good and not good.” “Whoever terms this mere cavilling (‘cavillatio’) is desirous of measuring the Divine by purblind human reason and understands nothing of Holy Scripture.”[550]

How then are we to obtain from God the imputation of the righteousness of Christ? There is surely some condition to be supplied by man which may allow it to be conferred, for it cannot rule blindly and unconsciously. Or are we never certain of this imputation? Luther’s answer is very pessimistic: Man never knows that it has been bestowed upon him. He can only hope, by sinking himself in his own nothingness (“humilitas”), to placate God and obtain this imputation.

Thus the author of the Commentary on Romans is still very far from that absolute assurance of salvation by faith which he was subsequently to advocate.[551]

It is true that Luther had, from the very beginning of his exposition, as the editor of the Commentary justly points out, “taken his stand against the scholastic [rather the Church’s] doctrine of salvation; it is apparent at the very outset of the lectures that the separation has already taken place.” It could not be otherwise, as at the commencement of the Commentary he already denies the power of man to do what is good. Ficker also says with truth: “Luther again and again comes back to his oldest and deepest torment, viz. the struggle against free will and man’s individual powers”;[563] his study of St. Paul confirms his views, which now take clearer shape, until finally “he incontinently identifies his opponents with the Pelagians.”[564]

With regard to Luther’s tenets on faith in the matter of salvation he has so far not departed in any essential from the accepted olden doctrine that faith is the commencement, root and foundation of salvation.

The editor of the Commentary also admits, though with limitations, the very remarkable fact that faith does not yet occupy in the Commentary on Romans the position which Luther assigns to it later: “the ‘fides,’ which Luther explains with the help of a number of terms borrowed from his lectures on the Psalms, in the exposition of the Pauline Epistle does not as yet appear in its entire fulness and depth, as the expression of the relation of man to the eternal, at least not to the same extent as it does later; frequently we have a mere reproduction of the Pauline phraseology; there is no lack of reminiscences of Augustine, and the results of an Occamist training are also apparent.”[565]

We certainly cannot say that at the very beginning of the Commentary,[566] faith or even “sola fides” is conceded the high place which it is afterwards to occupy in his system; the expression “sola fides” occurs there by pure accident and does not bear its later meaning; it is only intended to elucidate a sentence which in itself is correct: “iustitia Dei est causa salutis.” By this is meant that “fides evangelii” to which, as Luther says, Augustine ascribes justification, but which the latter, according to Luther’s own admission, did not intend to take in the sense of the later Lutheran “sola fides.” Above all, as already pointed out, faith, in the Commentary on Romans, lacks its chief characteristic and does not of itself alone produce an absolute assurance of the state of grace. It was only in 1518 that Luther arrived at his peculiar belief in justification by virtue of a confident faith in Christ (assurance of salvation).[567]

In the Commentary on Romans Luther understands by faith, first the general submission of the mind to Divine revelation, a faith which he here, as also later, in agreement with the Church’s teaching, accounts as the first preliminary for the state of grace. His opposition to works and self-righteousness frequently urges him to praise the high value of the faith which comes from God, whilst his mysticism likewise makes him accentuate the importance of trust and blind submission. “Credite, confidite” he cries in his exposition of the Psalms—of which the standpoint is still entirely that of the Church—also fervently recommending to his hearers the “fiducia gratiÆ Dei.”[568] All that can be complained of is that there, as in the Commentary on the Psalms, he seizes every occasion to speak in favour of the advantages which faith possesses over works.

With regard to his teaching on faith in the Commentary on Romans, Denifle complains of “Luther’s want of clearness in respect of justifying faith,” of his exaggerations and indistinctness, of “his absolute ignorance of wholesome theology.”[569] “The medium in this doctrine of justification,” he says, “is really not faith at all, but the confession that we are always under the works of the law, always unrighteous, always sinners”; “he never, even later, arrived at a correct or uniform idea of faith.... Luther’s assertion of the bondage of the will (complete passivity) renders faith in the process of justification, a mere monstrosity.”[570]

Here we are not as yet concerned with the qualities of faith in the Lutheran process of justification, but it must be pointed out, that the acceptance of complete passivity in justification is a necessary corollary of the above ideas of “humilitas.” “Whereas the Christian,” Denifle says, following the Catholic teaching, “moved and inspired by the grace of God repents of his sins, and, with a trusting faith, turns to God and implores their pardon, Luther excludes from justification all acts whether inward or outward on the part of the sinner; for God could not come into our possession or be attained to without the suppression of everything that is positive. Our works must cease and we ourselves must remain passive in God’s hands.”[571] In the Commentary on Romans passivity in the work of justification is certainly insisted on. Luther does not take the trouble to reconcile this with the activity which man is to exert in steeping himself in humility in order, by his prayers and supplications, to gain salvation.[572] He says of passivity: “God cannot be possessed or touched except by the negation of everything that is in us.”[573] “Then only are we capable of receiving God’s works and plans, when our planning and our works cease; when we are altogether passive with regard to God interiorly as well as exteriorly.”[574] In the Commentary on Galatians, not long after, he calls Christian righteousness a “passive righteousness,” because we “there do nothing, and give God nothing.”[575]

8. Subjectivism and Church Authority. Storm and Stress

Subjectivism plays an important part in the exposition of the Epistle to the Romans.

It makes itself felt not merely in Luther’s treatment of the Doctors and the prevalent theological opinions, but also in his ideas concerning the Church and her authority. We cannot fail to see that the Church is beginning to take the second place in his mind. Notwithstanding the numerous long-decided controversial questions raised in the Commentary, there is hardly any mention of the teaching office of the Church, and the reader is not made aware that with regard to these questions there existed in the Church a fixed body of faith, established either by actual definition or by generally accepted theological opinion. The doctrine of absolute predestination to hell, for instance, had long before been authoritatively repudiated in the decisions against Gottschalk, but is nevertheless treated by Luther as an open question, or rather as though it had been decided in the affirmative, thus making of God a cruel avenger of involuntary guilt.

The impetuous author, following his mistaken tendency to independence, disdains to be guided by the heritage of ecclesiastical and theological truth, as the Catholic professor is wont to be in his researches in theology and in his explanations of Holy Scripture. Luther, though by no means devoid of faith in the Church, and in the existence in her of the living Spirit of God, lacks that ecclesiastical feeling which inspired so many of his contemporaries in their speculations, both theological and philosophical; we need only recall his own professor, Johann Paltz, and Gabriel Biel to whom he owed so much. Impelled by his subjectivism, and careless of the teaching of preceding ages, he usually flies straight to his own “profounder theology” for new solutions. Here the habits engendered by the then customary debates in the schools exercise a detrimental effect on him. He is heedless of the fact that his hasty and bold assertions may undermine the foundations which form the learned support to the Church’s dogmas. Important and assured truths become to him, according to this superficial method, mere “soap bubbles” which his breath can burst, “chimeras of fancy” which will melt away in the mist. This is the case, for instance, with the traditional doctrines of saving grace, of the distinction between original and actual sin, and of meritorious good works. Whoever does not agree with his terrible doctrine of predestination is simply reckoned among the subtle theologians, who are desirous of saving everything with their vain distinctions.[576] We cannot, of course, measure Luther by the standard of the Tridentine decrees, which embodied these and other questions in distinct formularies of which the Church in his time had not yet the advantage. Yet the principal points which Luther began to agitate at this time were, if not already actual dogmas, yet sufficiently expressed in the body of the Church’s teaching and illuminated by ecclesiastical theology.

Whenever he gets the chance he magnifies the corruption of the Church so much that his expressions might lead one to suppose that the saving institution founded by Christ was either completely decayed and fallen away or was at least on the road to forsaking its vocation as teacher and as the guardian of morals. His complaints may, it is true, be in part accounted for by the impetuosity which carries him away and by his rhetorical turn. He probably did not at that time really think that a healthy reformation from within was absolutely impossible. Still, had anyone attempted to carry out his immature and excessive demands for reform, they would hardly have achieved much in the way of a real regeneration. His ideas of a radical change were deeply ingrained in his mind; this we naturally gather from his bringing them forward so frequently and under such varied forms. In his mystical moods he sees the errors and abuses opposed to the “Word” swollen into a veritable “deluge”; his professorial chair is only just above the waves. Hence he will cry out as loudly as he can. In his voice we can, however, detect a false note, and his exaggerations and all his stormings do not avail to inspire us with confidence. He is too full of his own subjectivity, too impetuous and passionate to be a reformer, though his other gifts might have fitted him for the office. His very sensitiveness to neglect of duty in others, had it been purified and disciplined, aided by his eloquence, might have been able to inaugurate a movement of reform. In many of his sayings he comes nigh the position of a Catholic reformer, and even, at times, makes exaggerated demands on obedience and the need of feeling with the Church.[584]

We may add the following to the complaints above mentioned, as occurring in the Commentary on Romans with regard to the state of the Church.

We must listen, he says—alluding to the formalism which he thinks is apparent everywhere—to the “inward word,” which often speaks to us quite differently from the injunctions to which we are accustomed. “The wisdom of fools always looks more to the work than to the word; it thinks itself able to gauge the meaning and value of the word from the value or worthlessness of the deeds”; what we should do is the contrary; the precious, inestimable word must always resound in our hearts and direct all our outward actions.[596] The “spirit of the believer is subject to no one,” “the spirit is free as regards all things”; “all exterior things are free to those who are in the spirit.” “The bondage [of charity] is the highest liberty.”[597]

Such words form a quite obvious preliminary to the “Evangelical freedom” which he was afterwards to vindicate. He thus gives a much wider application to the ideas he had met with in Tauler than was in the mind of that pious mystic. Tauler writes: “I tell you that you must not submit your inner man to anyone, but to God only. But your exterior man you must submit in a true and real humility to God and to all creatures.”[598] Luther says what on the surface seems quite similar: the Christian is free and master of all things and is subject to no one (by faith), and yet at the same time a willing servant of all and subject to all (by charity).[599] Yet, both in the Commentary on Romans and in the works which were soon to follow, “the willing servant” is more and more ousted by false ideas of independence, so that a danger arises of only the “free master of all things” remaining. In the Commentary on Romans all exterior submission to the Church is, in principle, menaced by a liberty which, appealing to the inward experience of the Word and a deeper conception of religion, seeks to overstep all barriers.

The confused ideas for which he was beholden to his pseudo-mysticism were in great part the cause of this and of other errors.

9. The Mystic in the Commentary on Romans

Since the appearance in print of Luther’s Commentary on Romans it has been possible to perceive more clearly the ominous power which false mysticism had gained over the young author.

His misapprehension of some of the principal elements of Tauler’s sermons and of the “Theologia Deutsch” stands out in sharp relief in these lectures on the Pauline Epistle, and we see more plainly how the obscure ideas he finds in the mystics at once amalgamate with his own. The connection between the pseudo-mysticism which he has built up on the basis of true mysticism, and the method of theology which he is already pursuing, appears here so great, and he follows so closely the rather elastic figures and thoughts provided by the mystical science of the soul, that we are almost tempted, after reading his exposition of the Epistle to the Romans, to ask whether all his intellectual mistakes were not an outcome of his mysticism. The fact is, however, that he began his study of mysticism only after having commenced formulating the principles of his new world of thought. It was only after the ferment had gone on working for a considerable time that he chanced upon certain mystic works. Yet, strange to say, the mysticism with which he then became acquainted was not that German variety which had already been infected with the errors of Master Eckhart, but the sounder mysticism which had avoided the pitfalls. It is a tragic coincidence that mysticism, the most delicate blossom of the theology of the Middle Ages and of true Catholicism, should have served to confirm him in so many errors. True mysticism has in all ages been a protest against all moral cowardice and inertia, against tepidity and self-complacent mediocrity; false mysticism, on the other hand, debases itself to Quietism and even to Antinomianism; the world has lived to see pseudo-mysticism deny evil the better to permit it.[600] Even true mysticism is constantly open to the danger not only of conscious and intentional exaggeration of its theses, but of unintentional misapprehension.

Misapprehension is a misfortune to which mysticism was ever exposed, owing mainly to the inadequacy of human language to express the mystic’s thoughts,[601] whereas Scholasticism, thanks to its clear-cut terminology, has been spared such a fate, and for the same reason has never been in favour with confused and cloudy minds. Tauler had originally been trained in the Scholasticism of St. Thomas of Aquin, and in the teaching of the Frankfort author of the “Theologia Deutsch” the true principles of the old school still shine out. This, however, did not save these writers from having formerly been considered, by Protestants, precursors of Luther’s doctrines. Denifle, by his studies on these and the later mystics, threw such valuable light on the subject that the Protestant theologian Wilhelm Braun, in the work he recently devoted to tracing the development of Luther, says: “it is wrong for Protestants to claim mysticism as a pre-Reformation reforming movement; this Denifle has proved in his epoch-making researches.”[602]

False Passivity

As regards the important new data furnished by the Commentary on Romans on Luther’s mysticism, the editor himself admits in the preface that “the ideal of resignation [preached by the Catholic mystics] was raised by Luther to an unconditional passivity and to a real system of Quietism, which he completely identified with the theme of the Epistle to the Romans and with the piety of St. Augustine. In this he found the bond of union combining all his experiences. Mysticism it is which lends its deep and fiery hue to his thoughts; where Luther is describing the most intimate processes and gives their highest expression to the thoughts which inspire him, it is mysticism which is speaking through him ... the complete and unconditional surrender of man to God.”[603]

The Quenching of the “Good Spark in the Soul”

Luther in the above recommendation to passivity falsely assumes that the soul is entirely corrupted by original sin and only offends God with its acts. This also appears clearly in the Commentary on Romans. Protestants themselves now admit that Luther deviated from the standpoint of the orthodox mystics, particularly from that of Tauler, and that “in the view of the mystics of the Middle Ages there is no doubt that the natural good in man outweighs the natural evil. The central point in which all the lines of mystic theology converge is this indestructible goodness.” So speaks a Protestant theologian.[607]

Selfishness and the “Theology of the Cross”

Another important point on which Luther deviated from true mysticism has now been brought to light by the Commentary on Romans. According to the Strasburg mystic, and according to all good mystics generally, selfishness must be looked on as the greatest interior enemy of man. It is a leaven which readily infects the actions, even of the best, and therefore must be expelled by struggling against it and by prayer.

In connection with selfishness Luther exposes his so-called “theologia crucis,” which, with the adjuncts he gives it, is quite in keeping with his ideas. He was also to advocate the theology of the cross in his disputations, endeavouring to show that it alone teaches us how to make a right use of earthly things.

The Night of the Soul and Resignation to Hell

The better to fight against selfishness Tauler had proposed that everyone should look upon himself and his own works as evil, imitating a certain holy brother who used to say: “Know that I am the basest of sinners.”[624] In this innocent recommendation nothing is implied of the complete corruption of nature, of a desire for hell, or of resignation to eternal separation from God. It was only as an exercise in humility and penitent love that Tauler and the other mystics wished the devout man to cultivate the habit of looking on himself as absolutely unworthy of heaven and as better fitted for a place in hell. He is urged to descend in spirit to the place of torment and acknowledge, against his egotism and arrogance, that, on account of his sins, he has deserved a place there among the damned, and not in the happy vicinity of God.

They also depict in gloomy, mystical colours the condition of the unhappy soul who, by the consent of God and in order to try it, sees itself deprived of all comfort, and, as it were, torn away from its highest good and relegated to hell. Such pains, they teach, are intended as a way of purgation for the soul, which, after such a night, can raise itself again with all the more confidence and love to God, who has, so far, preserved it from so great a misfortune.

The doctrine of the dark, mystical night appealed very strongly to Luther’s mind. In his theology he is fond of picturing the soul as utterly sinful and deserving of hell, meaning by this something very different from what orthodox mystics taught. He also suffered greatly at times from inward commotion and darkening of the soul, due to fears regarding predestination, to a troubled conscience or to morbid depression, of which the cause was perhaps bodily rather than mental. These, however, bore no resemblance to the pains—“mystical exercises” as they have been called by Protestants—of which the mystics speak. In his “temptations in the monastery” he did not experience what Tauler and the “Theologia Deutsch” narrate of the consuming inner fire of Purgatory. Luther, however, erroneously applied their descriptions to his own condition.[625] Thus his idea of the night of the soul is quite different from that of the mystics, though he describes it in almost the same words, and, thanks to his imagination and eloquence, possibly in even more striking colours.

Several times in his Commentary on Romans he represents resignation to, indeed even an actual desire for, damnation—should that be the will of God—as something grand and sublime. Thereby he thinks he is teaching the highest degree of resignation to God’s inscrutable will; thereby the highest step on the ladder of self-abnegation has been attained. In reality it is an ideal of a frightful character, far worse even than a return to nothingness. He lets us see here, as he does so often in other matters, how greatly his turbulent spirit inclined to extremes.[626]

“If men willed what God wills,” he writes, “even though He should will to damn and reject them, they would see no evil in that [in the predestination to hell which he teaches]; for, as they will what God wills, they have, owing to their resignation, the will of God in them.” Does he mean by this that they should resign themselves to hating God for all eternity? Luther does not seem to notice that hatred of God is an essential part of the condition of those who are damned (“damnari et reprobari ad infernum”). Has he perhaps come to conceive of a hatred of God proceeding from love? He seems almost to credit those who think of hell, with a resolve to bear everything, even hatred of God, with loving submission to the will of Him Who by His predestination has willed it.

He even dares to say to those who are affrighted by predestination to hell, that resignation to eternal punishment is, for the truly wise, a source of “ineffable joy” (“ineffabili iucunditate in ista materia delectantur”);[627] for the perfect this is “the best purgation from their own will,” i.e. the way of the greatest bitterness, “because under charity the cross and suffering is always understood.” But all, he says, even the half-imperfect, see that here we have a splendid remedy for destroying “the presumptuous building upon merit; let everyone rejoice in his fear and thank God,”[628] the more so that those who are so much afraid will certainly not go to hell; “as they make themselves entirely conformable to the will of God it is impossible that they should be delivered over to eternal punishment, as he who resigns himself entirely to God’s holy Will cannot remain separated from Him.”[629]

This doctrine of a wholesome fear of hell, of a saving, heroic abandonment to God, and of an exalted and pure love to be exercised by all as a “remedy” against damnation, invalidates Luther’s doctrine of absolute and undeserved predestination to hell; salvation is again made to depend upon both God and man, whose co-operation becomes necessary; it is only because “man will not will what God wills” that he is damned. Yet, according to Luther, the saving fear and resignation is only possible to the elect, and these must in the end be in doubt as to whether they are pleasing to God, just as they must be uncertain regarding all their actions.

In confirmation of his theory of readiness for hell Luther even refers to St. Paul, who says in his Epistle to the Romans, that he had offered himself to the everlasting pains of hell for the salvation of the Jews; that, in order to save them, he had been ready to be “an anathema from Christ.”[630] But the example does not apply. According to a more correct explanation, the Apostle, who was always in spiritual communion with Christ, speaks only of an outward separation.[631] Luther himself says in this connection: Paul did not desire to hate Christ, but was ready to be separated from Him; in this he displayed the “most sublime degree of charity, a truly apostolic love”; “this seems, of course, incomprehensible and foolish to those who think themselves holy and love God with the ‘amor concupiscentiÆ,’ i.e. on account of their salvation and for the sake of eternal rest, or in order to escape from hell, in other words, not for God’s sake but their own.... What they really desire is salvation according to their own fancy, instead of desiring their own nothingness both here and hereafter (‘suum nihil optare’), and only the will and glory of God,” whereas “all perfect saints, out of their overflowing affection, are ready to accept everything, even hell itself. By reason of this readiness, it is true, they at once escape all punishment.”

According to Luther, even Christ offered Himself for hell whole and entire. Luther does not make the slightest distinction in the agony in the Garden between mere exterior and real interior separation from God. Christ was ever united hypostatically with God, and His human nature never ceased to enjoy the vision of God. Luther, however, merely says: “He found Himself in a state of condemnation and abandonment which was greater than that of all the saints. His sufferings were not easy to Him, as some have imagined, because He actually and in truth offered Himself to the eternal Father to be consigned to eternal damnation for us (‘quod realiter et vere se in Æternam damnationem obtulit Deo patri pro nobis’). His human nature did not behave differently from that of a man who is to be condemned eternally to hell. On account of this love of God, God at once raised Him from death and hell, and so He overcame hell (‘eum suscitavit a morte et inferno et sic momordit infernum’; cp. Osee xiii. 14). All His saints must follow this example, some more, some less; and according to the degree of their perfection in love they find this harder or easier. But Christ bore the most severe form of it (‘durissime hoc fecit’), and for this reason He laments in many passages (in the Messianic Psalms) the pains of hell.”[632]

In the light of passages such as these we can understand to some extent the lurid, fanciful, mystic description which he gives early in 1518, clearly on the strength of his own states of mind. He tells how a man fancies himself at certain moments plunged into hell, and feels his breast pierced by all the pangs of everlasting despair, because he apprehends God’s “frightful ire” and the impossibility of ever being delivered. This grotesque picture of a soul, with which we shall deal more fully later, although it is partly taken almost word for word from the earlier descriptions of the mystics, reveals its morbid character more especially by the fact, that the hope, which, in the case of the devout, remains in the depths of the soul even throughout the most severe interior trials, seems entirely absent. God is seen as He appeared to Luther, i.e. as an inexorable, arbitrary punisher of His creature.[633]

Luther’s mysticism is veritably a mysticism of despair and the “humilitas,” with its love ready even for hell, which he belauds as the anchor of safety, is a forced expedient really excluded by his system, and which he himself discarded as soon as he was able to replace it by the (God-given) fides, in the shape of faith in personal justification and salvation.

10. The Commentary on Romans as a Work of Religion and Learning

The Commentary purports to be as much a religious as a learned work. Its religious value can be shortly summed up from the above.

The author is as much occupied in putting forth religious ideas which appeal to him as in expounding exegetically St. Paul’s Epistle, and these ideas he supports on the text of the Epistle to the Romans or on other passages from Holy Scripture which he incessantly adduces. His intention also was to make the considerations of practical use from the religious point of view to his hearers, who were probably most of them Augustinians. He wished to give them a practical introduction to the doctrines of St. Paul, as he understood them, and at the same time to his own mysticism.

We must, if we wish to do justice to the Commentary on Romans, admit without reserve that it does not show us the picture of a man who is morally bankrupt. The author does not make the impression of one bent on sensuality, and seeking the means of gratifying it. The work, on the contrary, breathes a spiritual tendency, even to the point of excess, though not, indeed, without a strong admixture of the earthly element.

The author is, however, far from having arrived at any clear religious views; after wrestling with the secrets of the Pauline Epistle with feeling and eloquence, he is unable even at the end to extricate himself from a condition of spiritual restlessness. The work testifies to an enduring state of religious ferment.

The vivacity and fertility of thought which the author displays is noteworthy; the personal colouring in which he depicts his religious ideas, and, frequently, too, rabidly defends them against scholars and religious who think differently, is unique, and of priceless value to the biographer. Such a strong personal tone is not, it is true, quite in place in a learned work.

The religious “experience,” so often supposed to stand in the forefront of his development, is not to be found there.

If the so-called spiritual “experience” had actually taken place Luther would certainly have alluded to it, for he has much to say of his own state and observations. Why does he say nothing here of the experiences he afterwards relates in such detail? Of the excessive, almost suicidal, monastic practices to which, as a Catholic-minded monk, he surrendered himself, seeking God’s grace, until through Divine intervention he recognised that the path of works and strictness of life, in fact the Catholic road generally, was incapable of leading one to peace with God here below and to union with God in eternity? There is nothing here of that sudden leap from weary, self-righteous seeking after God—ostensibly a delusion cherished by all Catholics—to the joyous consciousness of a gracious God, based on the recognition of justification. Luther, on the other hand, gives a seemingly accurate description of his own spiritual development, though without mentioning himself, at the end of his exposition of Romans iii., a passage to which we shall return later.

The author frequently allows his fancied religious interests to spoil his exegesis.

Often enough he does not even make an attempt to follow up the thoughts of the Apostle and arrive at their sense. His character is too impatient of restraint and too predisposed to rhetoric. Thus he descends to the religious and political questions then being debated at Wittenberg and says by way of excuse: “I will explain the meaning of the Apostle to you in its practical sense, in order that you may understand the matter better by the help of some comparisons.”[634] These words occur in the passage in which he admonishes Duke George of Saxony regarding his quarrels with Edgard, Count of East Frisia (1514-15), telling him he ought to have recognised the Will of God in the Count’s “malicious revolt” and have patiently suffered himself to be vanquished by his foe—as though it were the duty of princes to become mystics like himself.[635]

If we now examine the actual value of the Commentary, we find much that is excellent and calculated to elucidate the Pauline text.

It is especially praiseworthy in Luther that he should have made the Greek text edited by Erasmus the basis of his work as soon as it was published during the course of his lectures. He also makes frequent, diligent and intelligent use of the “exegetical ability” of Nicholas of Lyra,[636] following him for the text as well as for the interpretation and division of the subject; this was the author whose assistance he had formerly declined with far too much contempt. Other authorities whom he also consults are Paul of Burgos, Peter Lombard, for his explanations of the Epistle to the Romans, and, for the division of the matter, particularly the Schemata of Faber Stapulensis. His own linguistic training and his knowledge of ancient literature were of great service to him, as also was his natural quickness of judgment combined with sagacity. He frequently quotes passages from St. Augustine, and through him, i.e. at secondhand, from Cyprian and Chrysostom; in his interpretations the mediÆval authorities of whom he makes most use are the Master of the Sentences and St. Bernard.[637] The way in which Aristotle and the Scholastics are handled is already plain from what we have said. Reminiscences of the works of his own professors, Paltz, Trutfetter and Usingen, are merely general, and he freely differs from them. As an Occamist he feels himself in contradiction to the Thomists and to some extent also to the Scotists; in addition to Occam, d’Ailly, Gerson and Biel have a great influence on him, even in his interpretation of the Bible. Tauler, who has so frequently been mentioned, also left deep traces of his influence not only in the matter of the Commentary, but also in the language, which is often obscure, rich in imagery and full of feeling, while here and there we seem to find reminiscences of the “Theologia Deutsch” which Luther was to publish at the close of his lectures. The latter was, “to his thinking, the most exact expression of the great thoughts of the Epistle to the Romans.”[638]

From a learned point of view his exegesis would probably have been different and far more reliable had he consulted the famous Commentary of St. Thomas Aquinas on the Epistle to the Romans, not merely for the division of his subject, but also for the matter. This Commentary held the first place, as regards clearness and depth of thought, among previous expositions, yet not once does Luther quote it, and, probably, he had never opened the work for the purpose of study. “It is most remarkable,” Wilhelm Braun says, speaking of Luther’s Commentary and of his whole development, “that Luther never came to understand Thomas of Aquin. We meet with some disparaging remarks [elsewhere than in the Commentary on Romans]; he is doubtful as to whether St. Thomas was really saved, because he wrote some heretical stuff and brought Aristotle, the corrupter of pious doctrine, into prominence in the Church; but he never understood him from the theological point of view.”[639] We might well go further and say, that he did not even do what must certainly precede any “understanding”—study his writings with the intention of carefully examining them.[640]

How greatly does Luther in his method, his manner of delivery and his spirit differ from St. Thomas, from the latter’s quiet precision and trustworthiness in following the great traditions of learning and theology. Luther so often speaks without due thought, so often in his impetuosity sees but one side of things, he contradicts himself without remarking it, falls into grotesque exaggeration, and, in many passages, is not merely impulsive in his manner of speech, but even destructive. The rashness with which he lays hands on the generally accepted teaching of the best tried minds, his assumption of supremacy in the intellectual domain, the boundless self-confidence which peeps out of so many of his assertions, gave cause for fearing the worst from this professor, to whose words the University was even then attentive.

He knew well how to hold his listeners by the versatility of his spirit and his ability to handle words. His language comprises, now weighty sentences, now popular and taking comparisons. He speaks, when he is so inclined, in the popular and forcible style he employs at a later date; he borrows from the lips of the populace sayings of unexampled coarseness with which he spices his harangues, more especially with a view to emphasising his attitude to his opponents. We may be permitted to quote one such passage in which he is speaking against those who hold themselves to be pure: “I look on them as the biggest fools, who want to forget how deeply they stick in the mire.... Did you never ... in your mother’s lap, and was not the smell evil? Is your perfume always so sweet? Is there nothing about your whole person which has an unpleasant odour? If you are so clean, I am surprised that the apothecaries have not long ago got hold of you to use you in making their balsams, for surely you must reek of balm. Yet had your mother left you as you are and were, you would have perished in your own filth.”[641]

Immediately after this he proceeds with a more pleasing thought: “Truly to please oneself, one must be utterly displeased with self. No one can please himself and others at the same time.”

He is fond of startling antitheses and frequently loses himself in paradoxes. “God has concealed righteousness under sin, goodness under severity, mercy under anger.”[642] “He who does not think he is righteous, is for that very reason righteous before God.” “To be sinners does not harm us, if we only strive earnestly for justification.”[643]

It may serve to give a better idea of the exegetical value of the whole work, and thereby increase our knowledge of its author, if we consider some of the other peculiarities which permeate it.

Luther frequently engages with great zest in philosophical argument and has skirmishes in dialectics with his adversaries, after the custom of the school of Occam. In such cases he often becomes scarcely intelligible owing to his utter neglect of the rules of logic. The answer he gives to the proofs alleged by “modern philosophers” for the possibility of a natural love of God is very characteristic. They had urged: The will is able to grasp all that reason proposes to it as right and necessary; but reason proposes that we must love God, the cause of all things, and the Highest Good above all. Against this Luther philosophises as follows: “That is decidedly a bad conclusion. The conclusion should be: If the will is able to will everything that reason prescribes shall be willed and performed, then the will may will that God is to be loved above all, as reason says. But it does not follow that the will can love God above all, but merely that it can feebly will that this be done, i.e. the will has just that tiny little bit of will (‘voluntatulam voluntatis habere’) which reason orders it to have.” To this Luther adds: “Were that proof correct, then the common teaching would be erroneous that the law [of God in Revelation] has been given in order to humble the proud who presumptuously build on their own powers.” And immediately, with supposedly scriptural proofs, he proceeds to show that no power for doing what is good can be ascribed to the will.[644]

In what he says of the position of philosophy to saving grace—a point we mentioned above—we have another example of his faulty method.

It is well known that the old Scholastics, far from drawing their profound teaching concerning sanctifying grace from the “mouldy” stores of Aristotle, advocated, with regard to justification, regeneration and bestowal of sanctifying grace (“gratia sanctificans”) by the infusion of the Holy Spirit, simply the views contained in Holy Scripture and in the Fathers; but, in order to make her teaching more comprehensible and to insure it against aberrations, the Church clothed it as far as necessary in the language of the generally accepted philosophy. The element which Scholasticism therewith borrowed from Aristotle—or to be accurate not from him only, but, through the Fathers, from ancient philosophy generally—was of service for the comprehension of revealed truth. Luther, however, was opposed to anything which tended to greater definition because he was more successful in expressing his diverging opinions in vague and misapprehended biblical language than in the stricter and more exact language of the philosophical schools.

The Church, on the other hand, has given Scholasticism its due. In the definitions of the Council of Trent on the points of faith which had been called into question, the Church to a certain degree made her own the old traditional expressions of the schools on the doctrine of grace, teaching, for instance, that the “only formal cause of our righteousness lies in the righteousness of God, not in that by which He Himself is just, but that by which He makes us just.” She declared that, with justifying grace, the “love of God becomes inherent in us,” and that with this grace man “receives the infusion (‘infusa accipit’) of faith, hope and charity”; she also speaks of the various causes of justification, of the final, efficient, meritorious, instrumental and formal cause.[645] All these learned terms were admirably fitted to express the ancient views vouched for by the Bible or tradition, and the same may be said, for instance, of the formula sanctioned by the Council of Trent, that “by the sacraments grace is bestowed ‘ex opere operato,’” and that the sacraments of Baptism, Confirmation and Order impart “a ‘character,’ i.e. a spiritual and ineradicable mark on account of which they cannot be repeated.”[646] When the Church expresses herself in such terms with regard to sanctifying grace, she implies thereby no more than what is stated in the various biblical excerpts quoted in detail by the Council of Trent to which Luther had paid too little heed. Her teaching is that man is signed and anointed with the spirit of promise which is the pledge of our inheritance; that he is renewed through the Spirit, and that by the Spirit the love of God is poured forth in his heart; that he becomes a living member of Christ; that because he is made the heir and child of God he has a right to heaven; that he is born again by the Holy Ghost to a new life, and thus is translated into the Kingdom of the Love of His Son where he has redemption and forgiveness of sins; as such he is a friend and companion of God; yet he must go on from virtue to virtue and, as the Apostle says, be renewed from day to day by constantly mortifying the members of his flesh and offering them as the weapons of righteousness for sanctification.

In his Commentary on Romans Luther already breaks away from tradition, i.e. from the whole growth of the past, even on matters of the utmost moment, and this not at all to the advantage of theology; not merely the method and mode of expression does he oppose, but even the very substance of doctrine.

Protestant theology, following in his footsteps, went further. Many of its representatives, as we shall see, honestly expressed their serious doubts as to whether the Bible teaching of sanctification by grace—that process which, according to the scriptural descriptions just quoted, takes place in the very innermost being of man—is really expressed correctly by the Lutheran doctrine of the imputation of a purely extraneous righteousness. But even to-day there are others who still support Luther’s views in a slightly modified form, and who will have it that the scholastic and later teaching of the Church is a doctrine of mere “magic,” as though she made of saving grace a magical power, of which the agency is baptism or absolution. It is true that the process of sanctification as apprehended by faith is to a large extent involved in impenetrable mystery, but in Christianity there is much else which is mysterious. It is perhaps this mysterious element which gives offence and accounts for Catholic doctrine being described by so opprobrious a word as “magic.” Some Protestants of the same school are also given to praising Luther—in terms which are also, though in another sense, mysterious and obscure—for having from the very outset arrived at the great idea of grace peculiar to the Reformed theology, viz. at the “exaltation of religion above morality.” He was the first to ask: “How do I stand with regard to my God?” and who made the discovery, of which his Commentary on Romans is a forcible proof, that it is “man’s relation to God through faith which creates the purer atmosphere in which alone it is possible for morality to thrive.” He arrived, so we are told, at an apprehension of grace as “a merciful consideration of the abiding sinner,” and a true “consolation of conscience”; he at the same time recognised grace as an “educative and moulding energy,” which, as such, imparts “strength for sanctification.”[647]

To return to the exegetical side of the Commentary on Romans, the confusion in which the ideas are presented lends to much of it a stamp of great imperfection. There is a general lack of cautious, intelligent comprehension of the material, which sometimes is concerned with the tenderest questions of faith, sometimes with vital points of morals. The impartial observer sees so many traces of passion, irritation, storm and stress that he begins to ask himself whether the work has any real theological value.

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.”[655] 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.”[656] 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.

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”).[669] 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.’”[670] “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.”[671] 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.”)[672]

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[673] 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.”[674] 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 seeking 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.[675]

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.

We might expect to find in the Commentary the most noticeable progress where he deals with preparation for grace, for this was surely the point on which he was bound to come into conflict with other doctrines. It is, however, hard to tell whether he realised the difficulty. It is true that much less stress is laid upon preparation for justification as the work proceeds, whereas at the commencement the author speaks unhesitatingly of the cultivation of the will which must be undertaken in order to bring down grace. (See above, p. 214.) This, however, might merely be accidental and due to the fact that, in the last chapters, St. Paul is dealing mainly with the virtues of the justified. Towards the end of the Epistle, in connection with what the Apostle says on charity and faith in the righteous, the nature of that “humilitas” which Luther so eulogises as a preliminary and accompaniment of the appropriation of the righteousness of Christ undergoes a change and appears more as faith with charity, or charity with faith. Luther’s manner of speaking thus varies according to the subject with which Paul is dealing.

If we take the middle of the year 1515 as the starting-point of Luther’s new theology, then many of the statements in his Commentary on the Psalms, especially in its latter part, become more significant as precursors of Luther’s errors. The favourable view we expressed above of his work on the Psalms, as regards its agreement with the theology of the Church, was only meant to convey that a Catholic interpretation of the questionable passages was possible; this, however, cannot be said of the theses in the Commentary on Romans which we have just been considering. We now understand why unwillingness to allow any ability in man to do what is good is the point in which Luther’s work on the Psalms goes furthest. There the doctrine of his “profundior theologia” is: “We must account ourselves as nothing, as sinful, liars, as dead in God’s sight; we must not trust in any merits of our own.” There, too, we find paradoxes such as the following: “God is wonderful in His saints, the most beautiful is to Him the most hideous, the most infamous the most excellent; whoever thinks himself upright, with him God is not pleased.... In the recognition of this lie the pith of the Scripture and the kernel of the heavenly grain.”[676] Such expressions are, it is true, not unlike what we sometimes hear from the Church’s theologians and saints, but in the light of the Commentary on Romans they become more important as signs of transition.

We must not forget, in view of the numerous enigmas which the boldness of the Commentary on Romans presents, that it bears merely a semi-public character and was not intended for publication. In this work, destined only for the lecture-room, Luther did not stop to weigh or fine down his words, but gave the reins to his impulse, thus offering us a so much the more interesting picture of his inmost thoughts.

Some important particulars, in which this work differs from other public utterances made by Luther about the same time, are to be explained by the familiarity with which he is speaking to his pupils.

In the sermons on the Ten Commandments, published in 1518 but preached in the two preceding years and consequently intended for general consumption, he speaks differently of concupiscence than in the Commentary. In the sermons he declares that desires so long as they are involuntary are certainly not sinful. He even says to a man who is troubled on account of his involuntary temptations against purity: “No, no, you have not lost your chastity by such thoughts; on the contrary, you have never been more chaste if you are only sure they came to you against your will.... It is a true sign of a lively sense of chastity when a man feels displeasure, and it need not even be absolute displeasure, otherwise there would be no attraction; he is in an uncertain state, now willing, now unwilling.... In the struggle for chastity the little bark is tossed hither and thither on the waters, while [according to the gospel] Christ is asleep within. Rouse Christ so that He may command the sea, i.e. the flesh, and the wind, i.e. the devil.”[677] In the public Indulgence theses of 1517, he is also careful not to express his erroneous views on grace and the nature of man. It is characteristic of him how he changes even the form of expression when repeating an assertion which is also made in the Commentary on Romans. In the Commentary he had written, that too great esteem of outward works led to a too frequent granting of Indulgences, and that the Pope and the Bishops were more cruel than cruelty itself if they did not freely grant the same, or even greater Indulgences, for God’s sake and the good of souls, seeing that they themselves had received all they had for nothing.[678] This violent utterance here appears as the expression of his own opinion. In the theses, however, he presents the same view to the public with much greater caution; he says, these and similar objections brought forward by scrupulous laymen, were caused, contrary to the wishes of the Pope, by dissolute Indulgence preachers; one might hear “such-like calumnious charges and subtle questions from seculars,” and they must “be taken into account and answered.”[679]

The ideas contained in the Commentary on Romans are also to be met with in the other lectures which followed. Of this the present writer convinced himself by glancing through the Vatican copies. The approaching publication of the copies in the “AnfÄnge reformatorischer Bibelauslegung,” of Johann Ficker, a work which commenced with the Commentary on Romans, will supply further details. The character of the Wittenberg Professor is, however, such that we may expect some surprising revelations. Generally speaking, a movement in the direction of the doctrine of “faith alone” is noticeable throughout his work.

In view of Ficker’s forthcoming edition it will suffice to quote a few excerpts from the Commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews of 1517, according to the Vatican MS. (Pal. lat. 1825).[680] They show that the author in his exegesis of this Epistle is imbued with the same idea as in the Commentary on Romans, namely, that Paul exalts (in Luther’s sense) the redemption in Christ, and Grace, in opposition to righteousness by works. They also betray how he becomes gradually familiar with the doctrine that faith alone justifies, without any longer placing humility in the foreground as the intermediary of justification as he once had done.