Subject to None
In 2017, as the political world changes before our eyes, we are accompanied by Luther. The 500th anniversary of his contribution to the reformation provides Luther the opportunity to muscle himself into our theological lives with renewed strength. The reason is as concrete as it is simple — we are asked to lecture, write, read and discuss his life’s work, and thus we dive back into his writings, thoughts, struggles, pains and passions.
Luther was a passionate writer. To read him is at once painful and rewarding. His later anti-Semitic rage makes many of us want to close his books, never to open them again. Especially during a time when his words may fuel similar tendencies in our societies. His many insensitive fall outs towards opponents often overshadow the core of his theology, and appear to pave the way for a more black and white account of faith than his doctrine of grace would allow. Thus, to be accompanied by Luther in 2017 is not only to hold hands with a glorious past, but also to be reminded of the difficult yet crucial balancing act that we, as Christians, must perform in every age. Being a Christian is about being on the way.
Every theological doctrine can be distorted to suppress, fuel anger, inhibit, and degrade others. Luther’s doctrines are no different in that regard. Let us ponder two Lutheran ideas that may, if treated with care, help us spread the love of God and the inspiration of the Spirit in 2017. First, the Lutheran notion of grace; second, the idea of the priesthood of all believers. I will start by describing my own journey.
As a young, critical thinking woman, I left the Baptist movement in which I grew up, and started to train as a minister for the Lutheran Church. One of the main reasons for my transition was that, in the Lutheran Church, I felt little room for critique, doubt, objections and the humble option to leave big questions unanswered. Not that I did not have wonderful conversation partners in the Baptist tradition, but I found a difference in the treatment of questions. In the Lutheran Church my questions and my critical objections were seen with interest, almost as though they were more delivering than problematic. My questions were regarded as openings towards a continued, deepened reflection rather than as problems to be solved. What I did not understand then was that the openness I encountered was rooted in a theological conviction. There was a theological and historical explanation for the lack of formal expectations and sets of belief in the Lutheran Church. In the Lutheran Church, faith is not the same as affirming certain doctrines about Jesus.
When Martin Luther (1443–1546) and his colleagues delved into exegetical studies, they not only had better language skills but also a different view of language than their predecessors had. During the Renaissance, knowledge flourished in Europe, especially the knowledge of languages. With the nominalist thought tradition, language studies had been taken to a new level. Words were not as before regarded as carriers of divine truth. Instead, language was seen as a mediator of truth, a tool that one may need for interpretation, and the analysis of grammar and syntax could change the understanding of a text. This fundamentally new approach to language lead to a new way of studying the Bible.
But Luther and his friends were not driven by language interests alone; they were also driven by spiritual yearning. Like many of their contemporaries, they were critical to how the Church had developed (as we know, a thorough Catholic reformation occurred at the same time). Luther himself wrestled with the question of how to know that one is actually saved. How many masses should one attend, how many relics should one touch, how many confessions — when was it enough? When could one feel confident of salvation? Or, simply: “How can I find a gracious God?”
Luther was a child of his time. His answer to the question of how to find a gracious God relates to his inspiration of nominalism through Gabriel Biel (1420–1495), combined with his reading of Paul’s letter to the romans and his reading of Augustine. Ever since the days of Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274), Aquinas’ thinking permeated the Church in Europe. He, in turn, was influenced by Aristotle (since Aquinas had been impressed by great Muslim thinkers who taught him philosophy, Aristotle in particular.) In sum, Aquinas held that human reason had some ability to approach the divine. Man could — through what is known as the natural knowledge of God — approach God through thoughts and actions; hence Christian practices could facilitate a good relationship to God. However, when William Ockham’s (1285–1347) nominalism had spread in intellectual European circles, a paradigm shift had occurred.
Natural knowledge of God was no longer taken for granted. One had started to doubt that man could reach knowledge of God through reason. While this shift meant a first opening towards thinking the world without God, on the other hand, it also meant an opening towards a stronger emphasis on divine revelation. If the human mind is no longer seen as a channel to God, then another way of getting in contact with God is needed: God needs to break into man’s mind through revelation, beyond human reason.
Revelation became a necessary bridge between God and man simply because human reason was now seen as nothing but human. Luther argued that God’s revelation in the Bible gave man sufficient knowledge of God. That revelation tells us that we cannot do anything for our own salvation. As humans we are incapable of contributing to our own justification because our thinking is simply not linked to the divine reality. Only through grace may we receive faith from God. Rationalizing criteria that leads to salvation or perdition is useless because God offers grace that is greater than any individual and an individual’s faith. Hence, the questions asked by a young seeker may likely be an opening towards God’s grace.
Still, the question so often posed in relation to Lutheran theology comes to mind: then is there nothing we can do? Are we to remain passive, simply waiting? Are we to settle with what and who we are without striving to become better Christians? Are we to watch the world develop in directions we find worrisome on the basis that our faith cannot do anything?
Of course not. For good and bad, being a Lutheran Christian is still about walking on the road, being on the way. We now approach the notion of the priesthood of all believers: We are to constantly, day by day, hour by hour, live in our baptism so that we more fully open our minds and hearts to God’s grace. We are to defeat those voices in our minds that say that a new Iphone, a better house, and a nicer garden will bring us happiness, as well as the voice that says happiness can be attained through our own accomplishments. But to strive is still about accomplishments, is it not? Actively rejecting ideas that permeate our very societal foundations and modern ideals for life requires accomplishments from strivings. The Christian life requires effort, but the accomplishment we labor for as Lutherans is to rely less on our own deeds and more fully on God’s grace.
Lutheran theology proposes that every man and woman, regardless of theological education or ordination, have a responsibility to live and thus spread their Christian faith. Moreover, if you are a minister yourself, it is just as likely that you have a thing or two to learn from your parishioners than the other way around. In fact, if you are an ordained minister you may need extra guidance. Luther says it himself:
“That the pope or bishop anoints, makes tonsures, ordains, consecrates, or dresses differently from the laity, may make a hypocrite or an idolatrous oil-painted icon, but it in no way makes a Christian or spiritual human being. In fact, we are all consecrated priests through Baptism, as St. Peter in 1 Peter 2[:9] says, ‘You are a royal priesthood and a priestly kingdom’, and Revelation [5:10], ‘Through your blood you have made us into priests and kings.’”
In 2017, we celebrate Luther and we continue to strive for a better relationship with God and hence for a better world. Not through our own deeds, knowledge, and positions in Church and the world, but by letting our hearts be filled to the brim with God’s love.
