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| Forgotten Principles of the Reformation |
| Written by John Robbins | |||
| Sunday, 05 October 2008 22:43 | |||
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Every October, while the world is imitating and celebrating witches and ghouls and ghosts and magic in good pagan and medieval fashion, Christians remember the Christian Reformation of the sixteenth century when the Gospel of Jesus Christ swept across Europe, shattering a thoroughly corrupt Christendom and granting everlasting life to millions of lost souls. On the last day of October 1517 Martin Luther, a university professor in Germany, published 95 propositions for debate on the door of Castle Church in Wittenberg. Someone took Luther’s Latin propositions, translated them into German, printed them, and distributed them to the people. Luther had intended an ecclesiastical and academic debate; God intended to save souls, advance his kingdom, and radically change the course of world history. Less than a year later, Luther was summoned to appear before the papal legate, an Italian named Jacopo di Vio de Gaeta, who called himself Thomas Cardinal Cajetan, in Augsburg. Gabriel Venetus in Rome had ordered Luther to be seized, “bound in chains, fetters and handcuffs” and sent immediately to Rome, but Elector Frederick had intervened on the principle that Germans were not to be tried in foreign courts. In Augsburg Cajetan demanded that Luther retract all criticism of indulgences. When Luther refused, Cajetan exploded in rage, but Luther was again protected from the wrath of the “Holy Apostolic Church” by Elector Frederick. In 1520, Luther was excommunicated by the pope. On December 10, 1520, Luther publicly burned the papal bull of excommunication and canon law in open defiance of Church authority. The 20 year old Emperor, Charles V, of the Holy Roman Empire, a devout and loyal subject of the Roman Church, now summoned Luther to appear before the Diet of Worms to face the united wrath of Church and State. There, before the assembled princes, nobles, bishops, and the Emperor himself, Luther faced his greatest challenge: The assembled pomp and might of the medieval Church and State were arrayed against him. The traditions, dogmas, and practices of a millennium were there to judge him, a wild boar rampaging through God’s vineyard, in the words of the reigning pope. The spokesman for the Powers demanded that Luther recant his writings - essays such as The Babylonian Captivity of the Church, An Address to the Christian Nobility of the German Nation, and The Liberty of a Christian Man. To the surprise of almost everyone, and the outrage of the papal representative, Luther asked for a day’s delay, which the Emperor granted. Luther, perhaps better than most scholars since that time, understood the import of this assembly, this question, and this answer. For a thousand years the Roman Church had claimed and enforced a monopoly on God and truth, at least in that tiny appendage of the Eurasian land mass called Western Europe. It impudently claimed that it was the sole repository of revelation on Earth, the author of Scripture itself, privy to traditions so heavenly that the apostles had not even written them down, the guardian of the theosophy of Christian men, and God’s representative on Earth. The development of its dogma was the unfolding of Truth Itself, and it could not err. For a thousand years, millions of people had believed these megalomaniacal claims. Kings and princes and Emperors had been overawed and humbled by the Church. When Luther faced the assembled powers at Worms, he was confronting not merely the current Emperor and the reigning bishop, but a thousand years of history. He wanted his answer to be remembered for another thousand years. Pressed for a simple yes or no response, Luther gave the speech he knew he must give. First, he acknowledged that the books in question were all his. He refused to dodge the issue by denying his authorship or attempting some other evasion. Second, like a good theologian and logician, he rightly divided his books. He pointed out that some of his writings were simple statements of accepted Christian truth, pastoral in nature, and that even some of his opponents had admitted that every Christian could benefit by reading them. To denounce those writings would be a sin. Third, Luther distinguished other writings in which he had attacked the doctrines and lives of the papacy and papists. Their scandals were well known, and to denounce those writings would also be a sin. Fourth, he said some of his writings were attacks on individuals who opposed his theology; he admitted that he had sometimes been harsh; and he apologized for any undue severity in those writings. He admitted that he was but a sinful man who could err, but his doctrinal errors must be demonstrated from Scripture. He said:
Notice what Luther did: (1) He did not back away from confrontation with the combined powers of Europe; his delay only heightened the anticipation and focused greater attention on his words. (2) He candidly acknowledged that the books in question were his, thus guaranteeing a direct and head-on collision with the pretentious potentates of Christendom. (3) He carefully differentiated between his books, pointing out that to denounce any of them would be a sin. (4) He rejoiced that his teaching had caused danger, dissension and conflicts in the world, for this is precisely the initial effect the Gospel has on society; and he warned against trying to keep the peace by compromising the Word of God. (5) Luther put the young Emperor himself on notice that he too had a King in Heaven and had better be careful in his judgments, reminding him of Pharaoh, Belshazzar, and the many sinful Kings of Israel. But his persecutors did not relent. They demanded an answer “without horns or teeth.” They got one.
One Spanish observer said that Luther, in the gathering darkness, raised his hands above his head in the gesture of triumph used by German knights. Some observers shouted, “To the fire! To the fire!” Despite the efforts of the “Holy Apostolic Church,” Luther was not burned alive as so many other saints had been murdered by the Roman Church for centuries. He lived another 25 years, writing, translating, and organizing. Out of those writings, and the writings of other Reformers, came what are generally thought of as the principles of the Reformation: justification by faith alone, salvation by grace alone through the merits of Christ alone, all to the glory of God alone. And those principles are most important Christian truths that had been smothered by Antichrist for a millennium. They are truths that are under attack today by men who claim to be Christians and Protestants, some of whom are pastors of nominally Reformed churches. But there are other principles of the Reformation, even more fundamental than these, and they can be seen in Luther’s peroration. First, he states his axiomatic acceptance of the Scriptures: “Unless I am convinced by Scripture and plain reason....” Scripture was Luther’s axiomatic starting point, his sole authority. He talked about this principle so much it became known as the Schriftprinzip. Here are just a few of his remarks about the axiom of Scripture (the numbers following each paragraph are the paragraph numbers in What Luther Says, a compendium of his writings):
But there is another principle of the Reformation, actually part of the axiom of Scripture stated in another way: The laws of logic. Notice that Luther rejects the authority of popes and councils because they contradict each other: “I do not believe in the authority of either popes or councils by themselves, for it is plain that they have often erred and contradicted each other.” The Reformation began with a rejection of contradiction and logical paradox, not an embrace of it. Those who today claim to be Reformed, and yet praise paradox, have abandoned this principle of the Reformation. Unlike modern theologians who find in contradiction, paradox, antinomy, mystery, and tension a sign of divine “inspiration,” “spirituality,” and “piety,” Luther rejected contradiction as error: “They [popes and councils] have often erred and contradicted each other.” It may seem elementary to the reader that error ought not to be believed, but in the chaos called contemporary philosophy, that elementary point is denied. For example, the philosopher Nicholas Wolterstorff, regarded as co-founder (with Alvin Plantinga) of a contemporary philosophical movement misnamed “Reformed Epistemology,” wrote in his little book, Reason Within the Bounds of Religion (Eerdmans, 1984): “Some of what God wishes us to believe may be fit and proper for us as his ‘children’ to believe, yet strictly speaking false” (99). The Neo-orthodox taught that it was possible for God to reveal himself through falsehoods. Truth itself is denied by modern “Reformed” theologians and philosophers. What these theologians and philosophers deny is what Gordon Clark called the “primacy of truth.” He explained the concept in his book Religion, Reason and Revelation:
Luther accepted what Clark later called the primacy of truth. Some contemporary philosophers do not. Because of his acceptance of the laws of logic and the principle of non-contradiction, Luther wrote:
There is still another principle of the Reformation that is largely forgotten today: the right of private judgment. Those who defend church tradition and church authority and heap scorn on “Lone Rangers,” “schismatics,” and individualists echo the tyrants of Rome. Standing alone before the assembled powers of Europe, Luther said, “My conscience is captive to the Word of God. I cannot and will not recant anything, for to go against conscience is neither right nor safe.” In doing this, Luther was imitating Elijah, who thought he alone was left; and Daniel, who alone faced the lions and became ruler of Babylon; and Christ, standing alone before the powers of Judaism and pagan Rome; and Paul, who said no one stood with him at his trial; and Athanasius, who opposed all the other bishops; and Wycliffe, and Hus, and many more. The Lord has frequently raised up such heroic individuals, standing alone on the Word of God, challenging the judgments of kings, councils, and popes. The defenders of church authority and tradition are not worthy to lick their boots. Luther was not putting forth some Jiminy Cricket philosophy of “let your conscience be your guide”; he was setting forth the Biblical principle that the only reliable guide is Scripture, and it is the right of all men to read and interpret Scripture for themselves, according to the logical rules that Scripture itself contains. As for the so-called church fathers, Luther wrote, “Scripture should be placed alongside Scripture in a right and proper way. He who can do this best is the best of the fathers” (268). All those suffering from veneration of the “Church Fathers” should read that last sentence again. Luther wrote:
From this right of private judgment springs the Biblical principle of freedom of religion, so much opposed by the three medieval religions now at war among themselves in the twenty-first century: Romanism, Islam, and Judaism. Tragically, many who claim to be Christian and Protestant also oppose freedom of religion and the institutional separation of church and state. Luther saw that Christianity implied freedom of conscience and separation of church and state:
These also are principles of the Reformation, largely forgotten among those who call themselves Reformed. We ought to remember and defend the solas, but we ought also to remember and defend the equally Biblical principles of logical consistency, Scripture alone, the right of private judgment, and separation of church and state.
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