One modern school of Protestant unbelief professes to base itself on the earlier Luther, and, in almost every particular, justifies itself by appealing to him.
Such theologians are, however, overstepping the limits of what is right and fair when they make out the Luther of that earlier period to have been a true representative of that form of unbelief just tinged with religion which is their own ideal. As a matter of fact, Luther, had he been logical, should have arrived at this conclusion, but he preferred to turn aside, repudiate it, and embrace the profound contradiction involved in the union of that right of private judgment he had proclaimed, with the admission of binding dogmas. Freedom in the interpretation of the sense of Scripture, or more correctly the setting aside of all ecclesiastical and ostensibly human authority, has been termed the formal principle of Lutheranism; the doctrine of Justification, viz. the chief doctrine of Lutheranism, was called by the older theologians its material principle. Both principles were at variance with each other in Luther’s mind, just as there can be no composition between arbitrary judgment and formulæ of faith. History has to take Luther as he really was; he demanded the fullest freedom to oppose the Church and her representatives who claimed the right to enact laws concerning faith and morals, but he most certainly was not disposed to hear of any such freedom where belief in revelation, or the acceptance of God’s commandments, was concerned. In the domain of the State, too, he had no intention of interfering with due subjection to the authorities, though his hasty, ill-considered utterances seemed to invite the people to pull down every barrier.
In the second period, from 1522 onwards, his tone has changed and he becomes, so to speak, more conservative and more “religious.”
The principle of freedom of interpretation he now proclaims rather more cautiously, and no longer appeals in so unqualified a manner to the universal priesthood and the sovereignty of the Congregation in matters of religion. Now that the State has come to assume the direction of the Church, Luther sees fit to make his own some of the conservative ideas usually dear to those in power. As a preservative against abuse of freedom he lays great stress on the “office,” and the call to the work of preaching given by superior authority. “Should a layman so far forget himself as to correct a preacher,” says Heinrich Böhmer when dealing with Luther’s attitude at this period, “and speak publicly, even to a small circle, on the Word of God, it becomes the duty of the authorities, in the interests of public order, to proceed against him as a disturber of the peace. How contradictory this was with the great Reformer’s previous utterances is patent, though very likely he himself did not clearly perceive it. The change in his convictions on this point had taken place all unnoticed simultaneously with the change in the inward and outward situation of the evangelical party.... That his [earlier] view necessarily called not only for unrestricted freedom to teach, but also for complete freedom of worship, was indeed never fully perceived by the Reformer himself.”[26]
The two divergent tendencies, one positive and the other negative, are apparent throughout Luther’s career.
The positive tendency is, however, more strongly emphasised in the second period. We shall hear him giving vent to the most bitter complaints concerning those who interpret Holy Scripture according to their own ideas and introduce their own notions into the holy and unchanging Word of God. As exemplifying his own adherence to the truths of Christianity, the great and solemn profession of faith contained in the work he wrote in 1528 on the Supper, has been rightly instanced. As P. Albert Weiss remarks, he makes this “fine profession with an energy which goes straight to the heart” and “in words which bear honourable testimony to the depth of his conviction”; it is true that here, too, the contrast to the Catholic Church, whose belief he so passionately depreciates, forces itself like a spectre before his mind.[27] “This is my belief,” he says at the end of the list of Christian dogmas which he accepts, “for this is what all true Christians believe and what Holy Scripture teaches. Whatever I may have left unsaid here will be found in my booklets, more particularly in those published during the last four or five years.”[28]
Hence when it is asserted by Protestants of rationalist leanings that Luther recognised only one form of faith, viz. trust in Christ, and that he reduced all religion to this, it should be pointed out that he required at the same time a belief in all revealed truths, and that his doctrine of confident faith in one’s personal salvation and of trust in a Gracious God and Saviour, was ultimately based on a general act of faith; “Faith,” he says, in a sermon which was later embodied in his Church-postils, “really means accepting as true from the bottom of our heart what the Gospel says concerning Christ, and also all the articles of faith.”[29] It is true that Luther ever insisted on awakening of confidence, yet the “fides fiducialis” as explained by him always presupposes the existence of the “fides historica.”
With Luther faith in the whole of Divine revelation comes first, then the trusting faith which “trusts all to God.”[30]
“His whole manner of life,” Otto Ritschl says, “so far as it was directed to the attainment of practical aims, was fundamentally religious, in the same way as his most important doctrines concerning God, Christ, the Law, Sin, Justification, the Forgiveness of Sins and Christian Freedom all breathe the spirit of faith, which, as such, was confidence.” The Protestant theologian from whom we quote these words thinks it necessary to say of the contradictions in Luther which have been instanced by Catholics and non-Catholics alike, that “at least in Luther’s own way of thinking,” they were not such, for he based his faith on the “revelation given by God’s Word in Holy Scripture.”[31]