Luther himself invited such criticism by his constant advocacy of individualism in his later no less than in his earlier years. “If individualism be introduced even into religious life,” writes E. Troeltsch, “then the Church loses her significance as an absolute and objective authority.” And concerning the “whole crop of views on Christianity” which sprang from such individualism, he says with equal justice: “A truth which can and must live in so many embodiments, can of its very nature never be expressed in one simple and definable form. It is in its nature to undergo historical variations and to take on different forms at one and the same time.”[41] But this is the renunciation of stable truth, in other words: scepticism.
Denifle put it clearly and concisely when he said: “Luther planted the seed of present-day Protestant incredulity.”[42]
“The tendency of the Reformation,” declares W. Herrmann, a representative of ultra-liberal Protestant theology, was in the direction of the views he holds, viz. towards a rationalistic Christianity, not at all towards “the view of religion dear to orthodox theology.” He is convinced, that “it is high time for us to resume the work of the Reformers and of Schleiermacher, and to consider what we are really to understand by religion.” Religion is not an “unreasoning” faith in dogmas, nor a “non-moral” assent to alien ideas, “but a personal experience” such as the great Reformation doctrine of Justification rightly assumed. Yet, even now, theologians still lack that “comprehension of religion common to all.” All that is needed is to take Luther’s ideas in real earnest, for, according to Herrmann, the “true Christian understanding of what faith, i.e. religion [in the above, modern sense], is, was recovered at the Reformation. Thus only,” he concludes, “can we escape from the hindrances to belief presented by the present development of science.”[43]
It is with a similar appeal to Luther that another theologian, P. Martin Rade, the editor of the “Christliche Welt,” spreads his sails to the blast of modern infidelity. According to him Luther was “one of the fathers of subjectivism and of modern ways”; Luther, by his doctrine of Justification by faith, gave to subjective piety “its first clumsy expression”; the faith which Luther taught the world was an “individual staking” of all on God’s mercy. Yet, he complains, there are people within the Evangelical Church who are still afraid of subjectivism. “This fear torments the best, and raises a mighty barrier in front of those who struggle onwards.” The barrier is composed of the articles of the creed which have remained upstanding since Luther’s day. And yet “each scholar can, and may, only represent Christianity as it appears to him.” “For us Protestants there is in these circumstances only one way. We recognise no external authority which could cut the knot for us. Hence we must take our position seriously, and embrace and further the cause of subjectivism.” Thanks to Luther “religion has been made something subjective; too subjective it can never be ... all precautions adopted to guard against religious subjectivism are really unevangelical.” We must, on the contrary, say with Luther: “God will always prevail and His Word remains for all eternity, and His truth for ever and ever.” “Let the Bible speak for itself and work of itself” without any “human dogma,” and then you have the true spirit of Luther’s Reformation, “the very spirit which breathed through it from the day when it first began to play its part in the history of the world.” This writer is well acquainted with the two great objections to that principle of Luther, which he praises, yet he makes no attempt to answer them any more than Luther himself did. The first is: “Where is all this to end? Where shall we find anything stable and certain?” He simply consoles the questioner by stating that “Science provides its own remedy.” The second objection is: “But the masses require to be governed, and educated,” in other words, religion must be an assured, heaven-sent gift to all men, whereas only the few are capable of proving things for themselves and following the profession of the learned. “Herein lies the problem,” is the resigned answer, “which we do not fail to recognise, and with it Protestantism has hitherto proved itself sadly incapable of grappling”; “entirely new forces are required” for this purpose. Whence these forces are to come, we are not told.[44]
That all are not determined to follow the course which Luther had entered upon is but natural. To many the Wittenberg Professor remains simply a guardian of the faith, a bulwark of conservatism, and even the safety-valve he opened many would fain see closed again. Characteristic of this group is the complaint recently brought forward by the Evangelical “Monatskorrespondenz” against Friedrich Nietzsche, for having described Luther’s reformation, with scant respect, as the “Peasant Revolt of the mind,” and spoken of the “destruction of throne and altar” which he had brought about.[45]
If, from the above, we attempt to judge of the range of Luther’s so-called “reaction” in his second period, we find that it can no more be regarded as a return to positive beliefs than his first period can be described as almost wholly Rationalistic. In both cases we should be guilty of exaggeration; in the one stage as well as in the other there is a seething mixture of radical principles and tendencies on the one hand, and of Christian faith and more positive ones on the other. In his earlier years, however, Luther allows the former, and, in the second, the latter to predominate. Formerly, at the outset of the struggle, he had been anxious to emphasise his discovery which was to be the loosing of imaginary bonds, while the old beliefs he still shared naturally retreated more or less into the background; now, owing partly to his calmer mode of thought, partly to insure greater stability to his work and in order to shake off the troublesome extremists, Luther was more disposed to display the obverse of the medal with the symbols of faith and order, without however repudiating the reverse with the cap of liberty. How he contrived to reconcile these contradictions in his own mind belongs to the difficult study of his psychology. On account of these contradictions he must not, however, be termed a theological nihilist, since he made the warmest profession of faith in the principles of Christianity; neither may he be called a hero of positive faith, seeing that he bases everything on his private acceptance. To describe him rightly we should have to call him the man of contradictions, for he was in contradiction not merely with the Church, but even with himself. The only result of the so-called reaction in Luther during the ‘twenties, and later, was the bringing into greater prominence of this inner spirit of contradiction.
The startling antagonism between negation and belief within his mind found expression in his whole action. Though his character, his vivacity, imaginativeness and rashness concealed to some extent the rift, his incessant public struggles also doing their part in preventing him from becoming wholly alive to the contradictions in his soul, yet in his general behaviour, in his speech, writings and actions we find that instability, restlessness and inconstancy which were the results at once of this contrast and of the fierce struggle going on within him. The vehemence which so frequently carries him away was a product of this state of ferment. Often we find him attempting to smother his consciousness of it by recourse to jesting. His conviviality and his splendid gift of sympathy concealed from his friends the antagonism he bore within him. All that the public, and most of his readers, perceived was the mighty force of his eloquence and personality and the wealth and freshness of his imagery. They sufficed to hide from the common herd the discrepancies and flaws inherent in his standpoint.
Wealth and versatility, such are the terms sometimes applied by Protestants to the frequent contradictions met with in his statements. In the same way the ambiguity of Kant’s philosophy has been accounted one of its special advantages, whereas ambiguity really denotes a lack of sequence and coherence, or at the very least a lack of clearness. Truth undefiled displays both wealth and beauty without admixture of obscurity or of ambiguity.
Luther’s “wealth” was thus described by Adolf Hausrath: “Every word Luther utters plays in a hundred lights and every eye meets with a different radiance, which it would gladly fix. His personality also presents a hundred problems. Of all great men Luther was the most paradoxical. The very union, so characteristic of him, of mother-wit and melancholy is quite peculiar. His wanton humour seems at times to make a plaything of the whole world, yet the next moment this seemingly incurable humorist is oppressed with the deepest melancholy, so that he knows not what to do with himself.... In one corner of his heart lurks a demon of defiance who, when roused, carries away the submissive monk to outbursts which he himself recognises as the work of some alien force, stronger than his firmest resolutions. He was the greatest revolutionary of the age and yet he was a conservative theologian, yea, conservative to obstinacy.... He insisted at times upon the letter as though the salvation of the entire Church depended upon it, and yet we find him rejecting whole books of the Bible and denying their Apostolic spirit. Reason appears to him as a temptress from the regions of enchantment, intellect as a mere rogue, who proves to his own satisfaction just what he is desirous of seeing proved, and yet, armed with this same reason and intellect, Luther went out boldly into the battle-fields of the prolonged religious war.”[46]