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By David C. Ratke, Lenoir-Rhyne University Draft -- October 27, 2000 Center for Theology Colloquium Once there was once a wealthy man who had two children, Marty and Tommy. This man was not only wealthy, but generous with his wealth. Being a generous man, he decided to share his wealth with his children. The elder of the rich man's children, Tommy, used his inheritance wisely. However he became too self-assured, even arrogant, and abused the inheritance. Marty, who was not otherwise given to challenging Tommy, noticed that he was abusing the inheritance. He began to point it out to everybody who would listen. Originally Marry's intent was simply to point out the abuse in hopes that Tommy would change. After all, Marty adored Tommy. Tommy, on the other hand, was bigger and older, and so he argued with Marty in the hope that he would give up. But Marry did not give up. Eventually the child became more mature and more confident and gained the support of many of the other children. Marty and Tommy had a falling out. At first they tried to resolve their differences, but after a while it became clear that they would not or could not. Their differences had become too great to overcome. They did not understand each other despite at times some sincere efforts to understand each other and resolve their differences. They agreed to disagree and did not talk to each other for a long time. Then one day, they talked. At first they talked, not with the goal of resolving their differences, but with the goal of merely trying to explain to each other who they were. The longer Marty and Tommy talked to each other, the more they discovered that they could say at least a few things in common. More importantly, they discovered that they could honor and respect each other--indeed love each other!-even while disagreeing. I tell that story because I think it's important to understand that historically much of the heat in the relationship between Lutherans and Roman Catholics has in part to do with the fact that they are related. They have a common history and desire a common future. The common history is in the past, but the future is still open and being worked out. To understand where we are going, it is a useful exercise to see where we have come from. It is also useful to understand why Lutherans and Roman Catholics differ. What is at stake in the doctrine of justification? What are the issues? The Sixteenth Century On October 31, 1517, a monk faithful to his Augustinian order posted 95 theses for discussion on the door of the castle church in Wittenberg and thereby unleashed a storm which would turn the religious landscape of sixteenth century Europe upside down and inside out. The occasion or impetus for these theses was the arrival of a Dominican friar, Johann Tetzel, selling indulgences which would release souls from purgatory. The sales pitch was crass: "Once the coin into the coffer clings, a soul from purgatory heavenward springs." Luther was not the only person in Europe at that time to take issue with the sale of indulgences and his reasons for opposing it were not the only reasons cited. His reasons were largely theological in nature: the sale of indulgences implied that one could work out one's own salvation. It was possible for persons to justify themselves before God without Christ. Naturally if this was so, why do we need Christ? The early sixteenth century was something of a time of crisis for the church. It had stared down the threat of Islamic conquest. It had cleared up the question of a papacy in exile (and competing claims to the papal office) a century previous. It had organized and catalogued canon law. It had centralized authority in Rome. It had seen the establishment and cementing of the Christian faith in pagan Europe. It has seen the founding of mendicant orders like the Franciscans and Dominicans, which provided renewed vitality to the spiritual life of the church. It had seen the emergence of a systematization of the Christian faith in the scholarship of theologians like Peter Lombard, Duns Scotus, Peter Abelard, Anselm of Canterbury and, of course, Thomas Aquinas. In short, the late Middle Ages were far from a dark period but rather a period of considerable ferment for the church both organizationally and theologically. That said, by the early sixteenth century the Roman church was perhaps too comfortable and too powerful. Simony, the practice of buying and selling of church offices and benefices, was widespread and corrupt. Luther's was just one voice among a growing chorus crying out against the corrupt power of the papacy. The sale of indulgences was a significant part of the situation. Tetzel was selling indulgences to finance the construction of the Sistine Chapel and to recover the costs of Albert, the archbishop of Mainz, in acquiring not only that archbishopric but also those of Magdeburg and Halberstadt. That said, Luther's opposition was theological rather than political: the sale of indulgences smacked of buying your way into heaven. By this time, Anselm's theory of atonement, the work of Christ, had been distorted in some horrific ways. In brief, the prevailing theory at the time of Luther was that God had established an extremely high standard in order to be saved. Humans were created in God's image (Gen. 1:26) and therefore were expected to be perfect, perfectly obedient to the commandments of the Old Testament, to the will of God. However as a consequence of Adam's and Eve's fall into sin (Gen. 3) humans were incapable of meeting God's standard. The dilemma was this: in order to be received into God's kingdom, humans had to obey the law perfectly; because of original sin, they were constitutionally incapable of obeying the law perfectly. No matter how hard they tried, they would always fall short and be subject to death. God, so that fellowship could be reestablished with humanity, became human in the person of Christ. Christ lived as humans were created to be: obedient to the will of the Father. More than that, Christ was not only obedient, that is, not only did Christ fulfill the law, but by his death Christ satisfied the debt humans owed to God for not having fulfilled the law themselves. Restated: Christ's exemplary life satisfied the debt he himself owed to God; his death satisfied the debt the rest ofhumanity owed to God. From here it was but a short jump to claim that this debt was in some sense measurable and that the church could determine who needed more of Christ's "merit" and who was less in need of his merit. Clearly some people (e.g. saints) lived exemplary lives, which, while insufficient for paying the debt, were clearly far above the norm. Other people lived lives exemplary in an entirely different sense and needed far more than their fair share of Christ's merit allotted to them. The papacy determined that it could transfer some of the extra merit earned by saints to those in need of it. Initially merit was transferred to those who sincerely repented of their sin and demonstrated their repentance. Part of that demonstration might be a gift to the church in order for it to carry out its ministry. As time passed and the needs of the church expanded so that cathedrals could be built, the money began to flow into these "building funds". Then when simony became widespread, indulgences were sold to finance the acquisition of church offices and to support ambitious building projects like the construction of Saint Peter's Basilica in Rome. It was at this point that Luther stepped into history. The Ninety-Five Theses were not intended for public consumption. They were written in Latin and even in translation they can be difficult to follow. They are simply a series of statements which, in a very logical and systematic manner, seek to make the argument that indulgences are not the merits of Christ (Thesis 58); and that "the true treasure of the church is the most holy gospel of the glory and grace of God" (Thesis 62). To say or suggest otherwise is either pure ignorance or worse--pure blasphemy and heresy. There is very little explanatory "fat" and the language and format adheres to standard disputational format and is thereby technical. This set up a series of events in which Luther, who had intended to draw the attention of the pope, Leo X, to the abuses in the church, instead drew his wrath. He exchanged lengthy letters with John Eck, who supported the cause of the papacy. In 1518 Luther was summoned to Augsburg where the Diet of the Holy Roman Empire was meeting. This was no small matter. In Saxony Luther enjoyed the protection of his prince, Elector Frederick. In Augsburg, Luther could not be certain that someone might try to settle the matter with Luther's blood. Safe passage for Luther was arranged. The two men (Luther and Cardinal Cajetan, the pope's representative in the Augsburg Diet) met and even talked. Nonetheless neither man would budge. Cajetan insisted that Luther recant. Luther refused to do so. Following the meeting with Cajetan, Luther met with another envoy of the pope, Karl von Miltitz, again to no avail. Then in 1519 the famous Leipzig Debate with John Eck, a celebrated and able theologian from the University of Ingolstadt, took place. By this time Luther was quickly moving to a less accommodating position vis-á-vis the papacy and was little inclined to compromise. Moreover there was no love lost between the two disputants and the other parties involved. Formally, Andreas Carlstadt represented the Reformers and, in fact, he did begin the debate. But after he was ordered to set aside his books (according to the custom of the day) he began to flounder. Luther took over. Immediately the pitch rose. Eck succeeded in pushing Luther to deny the authority of not only the pope over the church, but also of councils. Only Christ is the head of the church, even on earth here and now. The debate lasted ten days. When all was said and done, Luther made some enemies, but won over many more to his cause. The relationship continued its acrimonious course. Next station on this road was Worms. The Holy Roman Empire with its newly crowned emperor, Charles V, convened in Worms in 1521. Luther hoped to have another opportunity to press his case f or a debate which would settle the issue. It was not to be. When Luther arrived he was immediately asked, "had he written the books placed on the table before him? And would he care to recant any part of them?" Clearly there was to be no debate, not even a proper hearing. Luther was deeply disappointed that he was being robbed of the opportunity to present his argument. He admitted to being the author of the books. With respect to the second question, he requested more time to consider the matter. The next day, having considered the matter, Luther said that the books were of three types: the first were clearly orthodox, even his opponents could agree to that. Those of the second type were polemical and attacked a tyrannical papacy, he could not retract those. The third attacked individuals, perhaps excessively so, but still he could not retract these because these individuals supported papal tyranny. Luther was not giving up on his hopes for a debate. However the questioner would not be goaded: "Answer the question! Will you recant?" Luther replied: "Unless I can be instructed and convinced with evidence from the Holy Scriptures or with open, clear, and distinct grounds and reasoning--and my conscience is captive to the Word of God then I cannot and will not recant, because it is neither safe nor wise to act against conscience."i This was to be the final occasion in which Luther would personally participate in dialogue--such as it was--with Rome or its supporters. The next major occasion that the Reformers presented their faith was at the Diet which convened in Augsburg in 1530. Luther by now was not only excommunicated, he was also outlawed. He could not safely travel beyond the borders of Electoral Saxony; thus he remained in Coburg, the southernmost castle in Saxony, while Melanchthon and the other Wittenberg Reformers traveled on to Augsburg. The proceedings went as before in Augsburg more than a decade earlier. Melanchthon presented his case in the Augsburg Confession. The representatives of the Roman church rejected his arguments. A Confutation was presented which the Wittenberg theologians refused to subscribe to. Melanchthon wrote a response, the Apology to the Augsburg Confession, in which he carefully responded to the arguments of the Confutation and explicated more fully the Reformers' position. It was submitted to Emperor Charles V, who very nearly received it, but was averted from doing so at the last moment by an aide. Even Melanchthon for all of his diplomacy was not able to achieve what eluded Luther at Worms and Augsburg a decade before. A final opportunity for concord peace came in 1541 at the Regensburg Colloquy. Emperor Charles V was desperate for German support in his campaigns against the Turks. Somehow he needed to persuade them to join forces with him. To that end a series of discussions were convened in the hopes of achieving some sort of rapprochement. It almost worked. Melanchthon met with Gasparo Contarini. To everybody's surprise they reached an agreement on the definition of justification by means of a formula "double justification."ii It was too good to be true. When Melanchthon returned to Wittenberg, Luther rejected the agreement because of the danger of works righteousness. The Roman curia similarly thought that Contarini had given away too much. With that the matter was settled. Luther and the Wittenberg Reformers had, for a while, held out hope for a council in which the matter could be settled. In the 1530s it looked as though a council would indeed occur. A council was called. It was to meet in Mantua. Luther prepared a confession of faith (The Smalcald Articles) which would present his position. Unfortunately, political events prevented the Mantua Council from ever convening. It was postponed and postponed. Finally a council did meet, beginning in 1545 and ending 1560 with long recesses between sessions. The Council of Trent addressed a number of matters which the Roman church needed to attend to. One of these was the matter of justification and Luther's theology. The matter of justification was something the Roman Catholic church needed to address apart from Luther. Luther merely gave urgency to the matter. In contradistinction to Luther, Trent saw justification as not only an event but also a process. Justification is "both an event and a process--the event of being declared to be righteous through the work of Christ and the process of being made righteous through the internal work of the Holy Spirit".iii The Council of Trent defined justification precisely: "The justification of the sinner may be briefly defined as a translation from that state in which a human being is born a child of the first Adam, to the state of grace and of the adoption of the sons of God through the second Adam, Jesus Christ our Savior" (Session VI, chap. 4). That it is a process is clear from the expansion of this definition in the seventh chapter: justification "is not only a remission of sins but also the sanctification and renewal of the inner person through the voluntary reception of the grace and gifts by which an unrighteous person becomes a righteous person". Clearly Luther and Trent are speaking about two different things. Luther and the Reformers are clearly talking only about an event. The fourth article of the Augsburg Confession and the Apology make this clear. Trent, on the other hand, is talking about justification as an event in which humans are reckoned as righteous (imputed righteousness) and a process by which humans become righteous. Luther insisted that human nature was so corrupt that humans could not contribute to their own righteousness. They had no free will before God, that is, they could not do anything that could possibly persuade God of any goodness in them. Human nature is completely depraved. Trent rejected this gloomy view of humans. Humans are not entirely depraved. Certainly they are profoundly damaged, nonetheless there is some good left in human nature: If anyone shall say that after the sin of Adam man's free will was lost and destroyed, or that it is a thing in name only, indeed a title without a reality, a fiction, moreover, brought into the Church by Satan; let him be anathema. ... If anyone shall say that all works that are done before justification, in whatever manner they have been done, are truly sins or deserving of the hatred of God, or that the more earnestly anyone strives to dispose himself for grace, so much the more grievously does he sin: let him be anathema. If anyone shall say that the fear of hell, whereby by grieving for sins we flee to the mercy of God or refrain from sinning, is a sin or makes sinner worse: let him be anathema (Session VI, Canons 5, 7, 8). A third, but by no means final, criticism of Luther's theology had to do with his notion that faith alone justifies and that faith can be defined as trusting in God and the promise of salvation. Trent flatly rejected this: If anyone shall say that by faith alone the sinner is justified, so as to understand that nothing else is required to cooperate in the attainment of the grace of justification, and that it is in no way necessary that he be prepared and disposed by the action of his own will: let him be anathema. So far this I have only presented condemnations of Luther's theology. What is the Tridentine position? In a nutshell it is the justification is a process and an event. It is an event in which the believer is infused with grace, thus enabling the believer to cooperate with God's grace and be made clean, sanctified, holy before God. As it is stated in The Condemnations of the Reformation Era: Do They Still Divide?, it is justification understood "in the context of life lived out of baptism until the finaljudgment".iv For Lutherans, on the other hand, justification is simply about an event in which the believer is reckoned as righteous. The believer does not become righteous before God in any way, the believer is righteous as a consequence of the meritorious work of Jesus Christ. The believer still has a responsibility to do good works, to be righteous, but that has nothing to do with one's standing before God. But where does that leave us? Lutherans and Roman Catholics from the start have a different working definition of justification. Can the breach between them be surmounted? The Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification is just that attempt. Does it succeed?
iJames M. Kittelson, "Luther the Reformer," in Luther the Reformer: The Story ofthe Man and His Career (Minneapolis: Augsburg Publishing House, 1986), 161. iiG.R. Elton, Refbrmation Europe 1517-1559 (Glasgow: Fontana, 1963), 172; see also Vinzenz Pfniir, "Colloquies," in Oxford Encyclopedia ofthe Reformation (New York: Oxford University Press, 1996), 1:378. iiiAlister E. McGrath, Reformation Thought: An Introduction, 3rd ed. (Maiden, MA: Blackwell Publishers, 1999), 127. ivXarl Lehmann and Wolfhart Pannenberg, eds., The Condemnations ofthe Reformation Era.· Do They Still Divide? (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1990), 39.
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