Astronomers propose an experiment that may close the last major loophole of Bell's inequality -- a 50-year-old theorem that, if violated by experiments, would mean that our universe is based not on the textbook laws of classical physics, but on the less-tangible probabilities of quantum mechanics. Such a quantum view would allow for seemingly counterintuitive phenomena such as entanglement, in which the measurement of one particle instantly affects another, even if those entangled particles are at opposite ends of the universe. Among other things, entanglement -- a quantum feature Albert Einstein skeptically referred to as "spooky action at a distance" -- seems to suggest that entangled particles can affect each other instantly, faster than the speed of light.

I thought that's what we were doing here. I followed your lead, sans the insults. I'll leave that religious bigotry shtick to you.

Gospel of Thomas Saying 22

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This Gospel of Thomas Commentary is part of the Gospel of Thomas page at Early Christian Writings.

Nag Hammadi Coptic Text Gospel of Thomas Coptic Text

BLATZ

(22) Jesus saw some infants who were being suckled. He said to his disciples: These infants being suckled are like those who enter the kingdom. They said to him: If we then become children, shall we enter the kingdom? Jesus said to them: When you make the two one, and when you make the inside as the outside, and the outside as the inside, and the upper as the lower, and when you make the male and the female into a single one, so that the male is not male and the female not female, and when you make eyes in place of an eye, and a hand in place of a hand, and a foot in place of a foot, an image in place of an image, then shall you enter [the kingdom].

LAYTON

(22) Jesus saw some little ones nursing. He said to his disciples, "These little ones who are nursing resemble is those who enter the kingdom." They said to him, "So shall we enter the kingdom by being little ones?" Jesus said to them, "When you (plur.) make the two one and make the inside like the outside and the outside like the inside and the above like the below, and that you might make the male and the female be one and the same, so that the male might not be male nor the female be female, when you make eyes in place of an eye and a hand in place of a hand and a foot in place of a foot, an image in place of an image - then you will enter [the kingdom]."

DORESSE

27 [22]. Jesus saw some children who were taking the breast: he said to his disciples: "These little ones who suck are like those who enter the Kingdom." They said to him: "If we are little, shall we enter the Kingdom?" Jesus says to them: "When you make the two <become> one, and when you make the inside like the outside and the outside like the inside, and the upper like the lower! And if you make the male and female one, so that the male is no longer male and the female no longer female, and when you put eyes in the place of an eye, and a hand in the place of a hand, and a foot in the place of a foot, and an image in the place of an image, then you will enter [the Kingdom!"]

Funk's Parallels

GThom 46, GThom 114, Luke 9:46-48, Luke 18:15-17, Matt 18:1-4, Matt 19:13-15, John 3:1-10, Mark 9:33-37, Mark 10:13-16, DialSav 7, GEgy 6, Gal 3:28-29.

Visitor Comments

This saying resembles what Jesus said before about becoming one.
- Joshua

This saying, in my opinion, is saying that when we realize that everything is one and one is everything then we shall be able to enter God's kingdom.
- anonymous

This sounds very similar to Buddhist teachings of abandonment of the material. It amazes me that Jesus preaches such teaching. I mean he actually says that children are closer to enlightenment (so to speak) than adults. How cool is that?
- Five_crowss

"When you make the two parts of every division into one true whole, and when you make the inner part of the vessel like the outer and the outer like the inner (for each defines the other), and the upper life like the lower life, and when you cease to observe the distinction of sexuality, when you make an infant's eyes in place of your eye, an infant's hand in place of your hand, an infant's foot in place of your foot, an image of these infants in place of an image of yourself, then you will enter the kingdom."
- Simon Magus

This imagery is very potent. Consider that the man and woman were two who became one in sex. The outside became the inside and the woman became pregnant. where man becam woman and woman becam man. The mother and child were one who became two and made the inside the outside. The mother suckles the infant and the two become one. The milk enters the child, the inside becomes the outside, the outside becomes the inside. It's a meditation. See what's in front of you. There's no moral or ethical admonition here. No return to the childlike or advance to the sage. Enter directly into the kingdom right now!
- Mud

I agree with mud, Jesus was a poet of sorts, using the imagery to tell the disciples to notice the everyday miracles of being alive. Anyone who has experienced a birth or suckled a child knows what Jesus is referring to--it's miraculous that we can make one child out of two people, a child who looks like the parent. Even non-believers can make babies, but the true believer realizes the miracle it took to do it.
- Holly

When one integrates the innate self and the learnt self one enters the kingdom of heaven.
- Rodney

This passage refers to one realizing that there is a spiritual extension to yourself. And upon realizing this, you gain entry into the kingdom of heaven. It should be noted that physical death is not required to achieve this, and this is because the kingdom is here now.
- Merinsan

Potted description of a technical process. In a nutshell, when you have become "whole" then you are ready for the Kingdom of Heaven
- Thief37

I think the meaning is to unite the opposites, as described by C.G. Jung in his works about alchemy.
- Petr

Children do not use words, nor do they divide the world into parts. They do not know themselves to exist as a separate "me," using the body as a point of reference, and so the world does not exist as a separate "not me." For children, all is One. Words are convenient tools that describe reality, but they are not themselves part of the real world.
- nothing

I feel this saying is directed to the body of christ, only when the body absorbs all of its parts in unity and in equality will it know the kingdom, he said the kingdom is within you and around you, in the individual the body must become as the spirit and the spirit the body, so as to reflect the spirit, in the church all must be considered equal both child and adult young and old, student and teacher, male and female for then the kingdom is truly revealed.
- David

The body is a tool you can control, but it still belongs to the world of the outside, divided from the inside. Make your body a continuation of the mind, fill it with awareness, and it will become awareness. The mind transcends the mortality of the body. Then, make the things around you a part of the mind, saturate them with awareness, one awareness, one spirit that extends into all.
- Z

The child at the breast is fully dependent on it's mother and here in this verse I believe the mother represents the Lord and the child represents us. The child is fully dependent on its mother, and here Jesus is saying that we should be fully dependent upon the good will of the Lord. We cannot achieve the Kingdom without realizing our complete dependence upon the Lord. [Note that Clement of Alexandria in [i]The Instructor[/i] refers to Christ as "the care-soothing breast of the Father."] Here, "making the two become one", has two meanings in my opinion. First, Jesus is pointing out how the Lord and we are meant to be one in love, as a mother and her child (the two) experience a oneness due to their strong love (the one) for each other. Secondly, love between God and ourselves can not be achieved as long as we are enamored by this material world of duality (the two) and therefore we are unable to see or perceive the Kingdom of God (the one) although it is outside of us and within us. Here, Jesus is saying that as long as we "see" inside and outside, upper and lower, male and female etc., all material designations, not of the soul, we are seeing with our material eyes, not our spiritual eyes, and therefore cannot glimpse the Kingdom of God.
- Mark

Scholarly Quotes

Clement of Alexandria states in Stromata iii.13.92-93 (J.E.L. Oulton's translation): "On this account he [Julius Casinos] says: 'When Salome asked when she would know the answer to her questions, the Lord said, When you trample on the robe of shame, and when the two shall be one, and the male with the female, and there is neither male nor female.' In the first place we have not got the saying in the four Gospels that have been handed down to us, but in the Gospel according to the Egyptians."

Second Clement 12:2-6 says (Lightfoot's translation): "For the Lord Himself, being asked by a certain person when his kingdom would come, said, When the two shall be one, and the outside as the inside, and the male with the female, neither male or female. Now the two are one, when we speak truth among ourselves, and in two bodies there shall be one soul without dissimulation. And by the outside as the inside He meaneth this: by the inside he meaneth the soul and by the outside the body. Therefore in like manner as they body appeareth, so also let thy soul be manifest by its good works. And by the male with the female, neither male nor female, he meaneth this; that a brother seeing a sister should have no thought of her as a female, and that a sister seeing a brother should not have any thought of him as a male. These things if ye do, saith He, the kingdom of my father shall come."

Martyrdom of Peter 9 says: "Concerning this the master says in a mystery, 'If you do not make what is on the right like what is on the left and what is on the left like what is on the right, and what is above like what is below, and what is behind like what is before, you will not recognize the kingdom.'"

Marvin Meyer writes: "In this last passage Peter, who is crucified upside-down, compares his position with that of the first human being. Philip makes a similar comparison in Acts of Philip 140, where he also cites a variant of this saying. For a New Testament statement bearing some resemblance to this saying, see Galatians 3:27-28. On the two becoming one, see saying 4 and the note on becoming one." (The Gospel of Thomas: The Hidden Sayings of Jesus, p. 80)

Marvin Meyer quotes an account of creation in the Letter of Peter to Philip 136:5-11 that says: "So he, the arrogant one, became haughty because of the praise of the powers. He became a rival, and he wanted [to] make an image in place [of an image] and a form in place of a form." (The Gospel of Thomas: The Hidden Sayings of Jesus, p. 80)

Robert M. Grant and David Noel Freedman write: "Infants (as in Sayings 3, 21, and 38) may be compared with those who enter into the kingdom (cf., John 3, 3.5). But entering the kingdom means more than becoming childlike. The two must become one; all earthly differences must be obliterated, including - especially - those of sex. Sayings very much like this one are preserved in the Gospel of the Egyptians, in 2 Clement 12:2, and in the Martyrdom of Peter (see pages 78-79). The unity of Christian believers in the body of Christ is, of course, based on the New Testament. Doresse (pages 155-56) cites John 17:11, 20-23; Romans 12:4-5; 1 Corinthians 12:27; Ephesians 2:14-18; and he points out that in Ephesians 5:32 the unity of Adam and Eve (i.e., of human marriage) is referred to 'Christ and the Church.' It is perhaps more important to notice that in Galatians 3:28 Paul says that 'there is neither Jew nor Greek, neither slave nor free men, neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus.' This kind of unity looks back to the first creation story in Genesis, where 'man' is male and female; it is the second creation story that sharply differentiates Eve from Adam. The original state of creation is to be reached through spiritual union. Man is not to be man; woman is not to be woman (though according to Saying 112 she is to become man - i.e., fully human in a spiritual sense)." (The Secret Sayings of Jesus, pp. 143-144)

R. McL. Wilson writes: "The idea that only the childlike can enter the Kingdom of God is, of course, familiar from the canonical Gospels. It may be added that this saying is one of the few which have anything in the nature of a narrative setting, although whether the words which introduce the saying derive from genuine tradition or were constructed for the purpose is matter for debate. Certainly all that follows the disciples' question is far removed from the canonical portrait of Jesus. Yet even here there is a basis in the New Testament: as Grant and Freedman note, listing passages cited by Doresse, the unity of believers in the body of Christ is based on New Testament teaching. They also quote Paul's words in Galatians iii.8: There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female; for ye are all one in Christ Jesus. Such a passage as this must serve to confirm the view that one element at least in the development of Gnosticism is a re-interpretation of Christian teaching." (Studies in the Gospel of Thomas, p. 31)

F. F. Bruce writes: "This is an expansion of the canonical saying: 'whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it' (Luke 18.17; cf. Matthew 18.3). But the expansion suggests the abolition of sex distinction (cf. Sayings 4, 11, 106): as infants are devoid of sex awareness or shame, so should the disciples be. In the Gospel according to the Egyptians words like these are spoken by Jesus to Salome. We may recognize a Gnostic interpretation of Paul's words: 'there can be no male and female' (Galatians 3.28). The replacement of physical eyes, hand and foot by corresponding spiritual members is probably a gloss on the saying in Mark 9.43-48 (cf. Matthew 5.29 f.; 18.8 f.), which similarly follows words about children." (Jesus and Christian Origins Outside the New Testament, p. 123-124)

Bruce Chilton writes: "The ascetic emphasis of Christianity in Edessa was a profound influence on Thomas; a central saying (saying 22), for example, stipulates that one must be neither male nor female in order to enter the kingdom. A denial of sexuality is manifest." (Pure Kingdom, p. 69)

Funk and Hoover write: "The initial saying (v. 2), which is earlier than any of the written gospels, is followed, in Thom 22:4-7, by interpretive rephrasing. One enters life by recovering one's original self, undivided by the differences between male and female, physical and spiritual. The theme of unifying opposites is well known from later gnostic texts. This surrounding commentary on v. 2 was designated black as the work of the Thomas community." (The Five Gospels, p. 487)

J. D. Crossan writes: "You will recall from earlier that the Gospel of Thomas derided the idea of looking into the future for apocalyptic salvation. Instead, it advocated looking back to the past, not only to an Edenic moment before Adam and Eve sinned but to an even more primordial moment before they were split into two beings. Its gaze was not on a male but on an androgynous Adam, image of its Creator in being neither female nor male. And it was in baptism, precisely in the primitive form of nude baptism, that the initiant, reversing the saga of Genesis 1-3, took off 'the garments of shame' (Smith 1965-66) mandated for a fallen humanity and assumed 'the image of the androgyne' (Meeks). This theology, which is the basic unifying vision of the Gospel of Thomas, can be seen not only in Gospel of Thomas 22:1-4 but also in 21:1-2 and 37:1-2 and in all those sayings, such as 4:2, 11:2, 16, 23, 49, 75, 106, about being or becoming one, a single one, or a solitary (Klijn)." (The Historical Jesus, p. 267)

Stevan Davies writes: "In summary, Thomas presents a dualism of perspectives and urges people to 'seek and find' a new view of the world, a view it claims Jesus himself advocated and embodied. Insofar as the world in its perfect condition, the kingdom of heaven, is thought to be above, that conception of the world is to be applied to the world below: 'make that which is above like that which is below' (saying 22). Yet the kingdom is not really a place above (saying 3) but a primordial time, a time that persists in the present. All things, all people came from it, for all were created as specified in Gen 1:1-2:4. All can return there now by actualizing primordial light within themselves and seeing that light spread throughout the world, thus making the inside like the outside and the outside like the inside (saying 22). To return to the kingdom one remains standing on the earth, but with an altered conception of it. The theme of a salvific or restorative return to the time of primordial mythic origins is, of course, a theme commonly encountered in religious throughout the world." (http://www.misericordia.edu/users/davies/thomas/jblprot.htm)

Stevan Davies writes: "A person who has actualized the primordial light has become (is reborn as) an infant (saying 22) precisely seven days of age (saying 4), for he dwells in the seventh day of Genesis. Reflecting the fact that the kingdom of God, like the light, is within and outside of people, such 'infants' have made what is inside like the outside and the outside like the inside and have restored the primordial condition of the image of God; this is the meaning of Gos. Thom. 22." (http://www.misericordia.edu/users/davies/thomas/jblprot.htm)

J. D. Crossan writes of 22b: "Robinson has shown most persuasively how the original Kingdom and Children aphorism has moved along two hermeneutical trajectories. One is the 'orthodox' baptismal interpretation represented by John 3:1-10 and developed in later patristic texts (1962a:106-107). The other is the 'unorthodox' and gnostic interpretation represented here by Gos. Thom. 22b: 'When one considers that repudiation of sex was a condition to admission to some Gnostic groups, somewhat as baptism was a condition of admission into the church at large, it is not too difficult to see how a logion whose original Sitz im Leben was baptism could be taken over and remolded in the analogous Sitz im Leben of admission to the sect' (1962a: 108). Thus Jesus' reply in Gos. Thom. 22b involves a fourfold 'when you make,' each of which contains the obliteration of bodily differences, and each of which is known by itself or in various combinations from other gnostic sources (save the fourth). Thus 'when you make the two one' reappears in Gos. Thom. 106 and combined as 'when the two become one and the male with the female (is) neither male nor female' in the Gospel of the Egyptians (Hennecke and Schneemelcher: 1.168). These, and Robinson's more detailed examples (1962a: 108, 281-284), show that the setting and saying in Gos. Thom. 22a have been redactionally expanded in typically gnostic terms by the dialogue of 22b. 'The result is a logion all but transformed beyond recognition, were it not that the hint provided by the basic structure is confirmed by the introduction, in which it becomes clear that the logion grew out of the saying about the children' (Robinson, 1962a: 109)." (In Fragments, p. 323)

J. D. Crossan continues: "The only factor not adequately explained in all this is the meaning of the fourth and final 'when you make' concerning eye-hand-foot. 'It is tempting to propose an emendation of the text' (Kee: 312) so that it would recommend eye to replace eyes, hand hands, and foot feet. But that, as Kee admits, is but a plausible guess, and Robinson can only note Mark 9:43, 45, 47 and add a question mark. But however one explains that final 'when you make (fashion),' it is clear that 'a collection of various traditions' (Robinson, 1962a: 283 note 46) has been appended to the Kingdom and Children aphorism. This means that one cannot dismiss the possibility of independent tradition in Gos. Thom. 22a simply because of the gnostic interpretation(s) now attached to it in 22b (against Kee: 314). Any decision on 22a must be made apart from its present much longer dialogic conclusoin in 22b." (In Fragments, p. 324)

J. D. Crossan writes of the form of 22a: "Here is a classic example of an aphoristic story, that is, of an aphoristic saying developed into narrative. A setting or situation is given with 'Jesus saw infants being suckled.' But this situation is already verbally contained within the aphorism itself: 'He said to His disciples, "These infants are being suckled like those who enter the Kingdom."' On the one hand, this adds little to the aphorism itself, but, on the other, it significantly chooses the narrative mode (situation) over the discourse mode (address) to develop the aphorism. Notice also that the incident begins with Jesus, with something from Jesus rather than something to Jesus. It begins when 'Jesus saw.' This recalls Bultmann's observation that, 'It is characteristic of the primitive apophthegm that it makes the occasion of a dominical saying somthing that happens to Jesus (with the exception of the stories of the call of the disciples). It is a sign of a secondary formation if Jesus himself provides the initiative' (66)." (In Fragments, p. 324)

J. D. Crossan writes: "The aphoristic saying in Mark 10:15; Matt. 18:3; John 3:3, 5 appears as a double negative ('unless . . . not'), but the dialectical story in Mark 10:14 and the aphoristic story in Gos. Thom. 22a are positive. The shift from saying to story has involved a shift from negative to positive as well." (In Fragments, pp. 324-325)

J. D. Crossan concludes: "The whole unit of 22 involves three steps. First, the aphoristic saying is developed into an aphoristic story in 22a. Second, this is hermeneutically expanded by means of aphoristic dialogue. A single exchange is created between disciples and Jesus. Their question simply picks up the language of Jesus' original saying in 22a. Three, the reply of Jesus almost overpowers the original saying in length, but it is an aphoristic commentary in form. If one leaves aside 22a and the opening question of 22b, the rest of 22b could be taken as an originally independent saying. It is, however, an aphoristic commentary, that is, a unit that looks like an independent aphorism but is appended as interpretative commentary to a preceding aphorism." (In Fragments, p. 325)

Conversation in good faith ended abruptly and rudely here. Since then it has been an onslaught of cut-and-paste non-sequitur, insults and arrogant gibberish.

Martin Luther: Hitler's Spiritual Ancestor
AUTHOR'S PREFACE
SMALL as the present volume is, I feel the reader needs some kind of explanation. I am neither a scholar nor a politician, neither a theologian nor a professional author. I am an ordinary schoolmaster, a teacher of French and German. This fact explains the shortcomings of which I myself am only too fully aware.
I consider it my duty as a teacher not merely to cram my pupils with the rules of the subjunctive and similar stuff, but also to tell them something about the history, mentality, ideals, and ideas of the countries whose languages I am supposed to teach. This, however, is easier said than done. Three major obstacles are permanently in the way of those teachers who agree with me in my aims.
First of all, we have to prepare our pupils for examinations. There is hardly sufficient time to cover the whole syllabus, much less to discuss any outside matter. For many years I have fought a lonely and thoroughly unsuccessful battle against the examination authorities—especially the Oxford and Cambridge Board—in endeavouring to persuade them to introduce into their syllabus some modern matter. Those boys who take their Higher School Certificate—the highest school examination in the country—will almost immediately after they have passed it enter one of the Services—to give their lives, if needs be, in a fight against a mortal and traditional enemy. Until then they are merely allowed to read some admittedly beautiful literature by Goethe, Schiller, and other classics; but of current affairs of modern Germany, of the roots of National Socialism, they are not allowed to hear.
As great, perhaps, is the second difficulty. Even if we succeed in spite of the examination syllabus in referring to some topic which is related to the present-day world, how can we avoid being “biased”? I firmly believe, and am honest enough to admit, that to ma an “objective” interpretation of history seems impossible. All of us have our own views. And as soon as we proceed to give anything more than dull dates, facts, and names we run the risk of being accused of “biasing” the you and immature mind.
The third and last obstacle is our very limited knowledge. Somehow the layman imagines that a schoolmaster's life is an easy one. That it certainly is not. I can truthfully say that during term time I myself, like all my colleagues am fully occupied with school duties from 8 a.m. until often long after midnight. The mythical long holidays are hardly existent in summertime: camps, farming, looking for next term's books, and many similar activities bring the holidays to an end before most of the necessary things are done. The schoolmaster of to-day has no time for reading, studying, research. And yet, if we want to teach “current affairs”, i.e., permanently new matter, we cannot afford to grow stale.
But difficulties exist in order to be overcome. This is how I attempted to meet those mentioned above. When I was at Rugby, I took one lesson a week with my senior boys in order to discuss with them “non-syllabus' modern German and French. I made it perfectly clear to them that I was giving them my own views, without any exaggerated claim to authority. I drew their attention to books and authors known to me who contradicted my interpretation. I told the, over and over again, that I was trying to stimulate them, to get them to think, but that I was not their intellectual “master” who could not be contradicted, but rather a somewhat partial chairman of a debating society. I stressed my own limited knowledge. Thus we discussed the development of modern France, Rousseau and the modern State, Germany between two wars, and similar subjects.
More than once during these talks I referred to Luther and what always occurred to me as his destructive influence. I pointed out that even in such an admirable book as Rohan Butler's “The Roots of National Socialism” the spiritual origins of Nazism and Luther's influence had not been given the necessary importance. Then I was asked if I would be prepared to elaborate to them—about a dozen of the very senior boys, that is—my own views on Luther and Lutheranism. I agreed—with the proviso that they would be my own views and nothing else. Admittedly, I had read more on Luther and about Luther than on most other subjects. But I wanted to make it quite clear that I would not speak to them with the voice of a great authority, but would merely give them my own interpretation. I told them, moreover, that I should try to prove how dangerous it is to accept legends; and that the picture I had of Luther and his influence was thoroughly contradictory of the customary Luther of the legend.
This was some time ago, just before the summer holidays. I spent the greater part of the summer vacation going through my notes on Luther and typing out a manuscript on which I was going to base my talks. But things happened differently. I was suddenly called upon to do some work for the War Office, and naturally left Rugby from one day to another. While serving with the Royal Fusiliers I contracted an illness, and after months in hospital I was invalided out—poorer in health but richer in experience. In my very fragile state of health there was nothing else to be done than to return to cap and gown.
I had four extremely happy and interesting years at Rugby, but all the same I was anxious to get to know life and work at another public school. When I came out of the army I was fortunate enough to be invited to join the staff of Stowe—England's most modern great public school. The opportunity of being able to compare one of the oldest schools—Rugby—with one of the most modern appealed to me greatly, and with the approval of both the Chairman of the Governing Body of Rugby School (Dr. William Temple) and its Headmaster (Mr. P H. B. Lyon) I moved to Stowe.
There I looked again at my Luther manuscript. I felt somewhat reluctant to talk to boys on so controversial a matter. I might be accused of having come under Roman Catholic influence and trying to convert my pupils. I thus sent the notes I had prepared to three of my most valued fatherly friends, none of whom can be accused of having much sympathy with Jesuitism and Roman Catholicism, while all three strongly disagree in their interpretation of Germany: Lord Vansittart, Dean Inge, and Professor Oscar Levy, the English editor of Nietzsche. All three were unanimous in their advice, i.e., that I ought to publish my notes.
After much thought I decided to do as they advised, and to let the notes stand as they are. If they were going to be published, they had to be published soon. And since apart from my very full teaching time-table, I am engaged in some “reconstruction” and “re-education” work, it was clear that for a long time to come I should not have found the time to re-write my thesis, to elaborate it, to make out of it a deep scholarly work of several volumes. I even decided to let my English stand as it is. I hope the reader will forgive me.
It was, however, only with very great reluctance that I was persuaded to omit my references and footnotes. My publisher and advisers were anxious that the book should be published in such a form and at a price that the greatest possible circulation could be guaranteed. This would have been impossible, especially under wartime conditions, if I had left the hundreds of references in the text. I have given in brackets merely the references of some of the more important quotations. But any reader who is anxious to check up any of the many extracts given in my book has merely to write to me direct and I will without delay supply him with chapter and verse. I can, however, guarantee that before going to press I have carefully checked all quotations. This, incidentally, would never have been possible without the admirable help and valuable assistance which I have received from the librarians and staff of the library of the British Museum and of the Bodleian library in Oxford.
As for all the other scholars, friends, politicians, and colleagues who for well over ten years have helped me in my attempt to get to know and to understand Luther, it is impossible to mention them by name. I fully realise that in the present short outline I cannot possibly to justice to their scholarship and patience. But all I am trying to do in the following pages is to elaborate in some detail a line of thought which, in my humble opinion, cannot be overlooked once we start on the difficult problem of understanding and re-educating our enemy. I am fully aware of the fact that the publication has all the unavoidable drawbacks of wartime writing, but if I succeed in suggesting to a few of my generous readers, especially those of the younger generation, that the whole problem of Germany is deeper, more profound, more spiritual, than some of our popular “philosophers” and journalists seem to think, I shall have fully achieved my purpose.
P.F.W.

Stowe School,
Buckingham.

CHAPTER I: INTRODUCTORY THOUGHTS

SOME years ago I published under the title “German With Tears” a survey of German education, past and present. Strangely enough, a chance remark occurring in the book—a remark which had very little to do with its main theme—produced more comment, more correspondence, more approval, and more violent attacks than any other statement. I wrote: “I personally believe that the real roots of National Socialism go down to the reformer Martin Luther, who seems to me more of a political demagogue than a religious reformer, and whose teachings and sayings are the foundations on which later Germans built.”

I shall try to prove that this was not a flippant thought but my utmost conviction. I know that it will sound shocking to some. I know that many people will disagree with my views. I shall not try to give a full and scholarly analysis of German Protestantism, of Luther and Lutheranism. I shall merely give my own reading of Luther; I shall show only that side of Luther and his influence which is usually ignored in England and which is entirely the reverse of the traditional view.

My remark, the one I have quoted, is really nothing new or revolutionary. There is a multitude of books which express the same thought, but they all do what I have done hitherto, i.e., they do not explain and prove their theory.

The Nazis themselves claim Luther as their spiritual father. “It was Luther, we must understand, who began to Germanise Christianity; National Socialism must complete the process.” This from Alfred Rosenberg is one of their typical sayings. But then, we must be careful in our acceptance of Nazi sayings.

However, long before Hitler there were German Protestant scholars of great standing who analysed aright the part Luther played in the history of Germany. “Lutheranism played an important part in the political and military development of German Prussia,” wrote Prof. Ernst Troeltsch of Heidelberg, early in the present century. “German nationalism plus the Prussian State have made our Reich, and both have their origins in Luther,” said Karl Sell, another pre-Hitler professor.

Since Hitler there have been very many authors who have connected Luther and National Socialism. Edgar Mowrer wrote as early as 1933: “Protestantism means in Germany Lutheranism. All the pet doctrines of Prussianism are found in the writings of the founder, Martin Luther.” And it is only a short time since a book was published by a great French scholar, Professor E. Vermeil, in which it is stated that “Hitler has taken up Luther's ideas.”

There seems therefore, very little that is original in my own saying. All the same, I shall attempt to show how I came to this monstrous-seeming conclusion.

When I was an undergraduate in my first term, my tutor returned an essay of mine on Political Philosophy with the sentence written under it: “All monistic theories are false”. I did not quite know what he meant. The essay—I have forgotten the exact subject—had to do with unemployment, and in my youthful, very “left,” very pink, views I had throughout the essay blamed capitalism for the present state of the world, especially for unemployment. My tutor was a wise man, a very detached thinker, from whom I learnt few facts but something of the art of clear thinking. I had tea with him a few days later, and he explained to me in detail what he meant by “All monistic theories are false”. His saying has since then become my guiding maxim.

He meant that it is not possible to explain a very complex and intricate political or sociological situation by one cause alone. There are always a great many factors, some of greater, some of smaller, importance, which cause a particular phenomenon to come into being. Only if we study them all can we come to a true and valuable analysis.

For my part, I have slowly and gradually come to the conclusion that spiritual values and conflicts play the most important part in all problems which govern our lives as individuals and as citizens. “Religious forces, and religious forces alone, have had sufficient influence to ensure practical realisation for political ideas,” says Professor Figgis. Max Weber, a famous German scholar, expresses exactly the same idea when he says: “The modern man is in general, even with the best will, unable to give religious ideas the significance for culture and national character which they deserve.”

This fundamental personal belief of mine has to be accepted as a necessary premise. I know that it is debatable. But I have to keep to the main point and do not want to lose myself in side-issues which have no direct bearing on the subject. I fully realise that it is fashionable nowadays to give especially to Economics a place that is higher and superior to that accorded to religious and spiritual ideas. This, I think is partly due to political propaganda, and partly to an inability to appreciate Nicolas Berdyaev's valuable truth that “Economics is a creation of the human spirit, its quality is determined by the spirit, its basis spiritual.”

Once I had given the spiritual and religious ideas the place which I have just indicated, it was pretty obvious that sooner or later I had to meet the philosophy and personality of Martin Luther. I was brought up partly in Germany, partly in France. Ever since my early childhood I felt instinctively that there was a different atmosphere between France and Germany which I was unable to describe. Later I learnt, and understood, that his was the difference between what is commonly known as “Kultur” and “civilisation”. It would be easy to describe me as a “francophile”, but such generalisations are a little too simple. Suffice it to say I loved the spirit of France, the traditional freedom, the beauty—in a word, the civilisation. And I began to see, as did almost everybody in France, that the danger to this civilisation did not come from Hitler but from the German “kultur”, from a belief and a religion which are typical of Germany, and of which Hitler is merely the latest and most complete example. I began to read and study the history of this “kultur”, and more than ever did I begin to see that it has its roots in Martin Luther.

I read Luther's writings: by no means all of them, even not the greatest part. Luther's writings are something unbelievable. Over sixty enormous volumes have so far appeared in the latest edition, which is by no means complete as yet. He wrote partly in German, partly in Latin; and to read his works is anything but an easy task. I think it would take a lifetime of concentrated work on the part of an outstanding scholar to read everything that Luther has written. His letters alone number well over three thousand. But at least I can say that I struggled through quite a number of his most important works—and read them with an ever-growing surprise, since the Luther I met there seemed to be a person completely and utterly different from the Luther I had been taught in school.

I began to read biographies and commentaries on Luther. This is perhaps an even more difficult task than the reading of Luther's own works, inasmuch as for over four centuries scholars, politicians, biographers, religious leaders, and students have found something to say about the reformer. A whole big catalogue in the Library of the British Museum is filled with nothing but the titles of writings on Luther. Thus it was not easy to choose. But one fact emerged. The Luther of the legend has not existed any longer in the world of scholarship since the beginning of this century.

I myself went to a Lutheran school in Berlin. We had Lutheran teachers, and 99 per cent of the boys were Lutheran. We celebrated every year “Luther Day”. Throughout my school life in Germany Luther was shown to us as a great man fighting for freedom, tolerance, independence—the man who exclaimed, “Here I stand, I cannot do otherwise, May God help me, Amen!” Luther, the honest, cheerful, decent German who fought a corrupted, immoral Rome. Luther, who proclaimed the advent of the modern world; Luther, honoured by Protestants everywhere—the hero of Germany and the Protestant world.

This view was maintained by all scholars, as I said, until the end of last century. Every Protestant saw in Martin Luther almost a demigod, and any views to the contrary were put forward by Catholics who were guided more by emotion and dislike than by any substantial facts.

But towards the end of the last century things changed. The first man who not only saw Luther in a new light but who also told a deaf world the dangers coming from Germany—Friedrich Nietzsche—was the son of a Lutheran pastor. In his own days Nietzsche was not read even in his own country. Nowadays he is quoted all over the world—but I doubt very much whether he is read. He is accused of having said and taught things which never occurred to him. I cannot enter into Nietzsche's teachings here, but I must utter a warning against quoting, or misquoting, one of the most profound thinkers humanity has ever known without having read him, without having tried to understand his ideas.

Nietzsche's remarks on Luther merely indicated the direction from which the wind was blowing. His voice remained unheard. It was not until 1904 that the Luther-revolution started.

A few years previously an important document had been discovered which shed some light on an unknown period in Luther's life, and in 1904 Henri Suso Denifle published the first volume of his “Luther and Lutheranism”. Denifle, sub-archivist of the Holy See, was a very well-known scholar. Through his work at the Vatican he had access to documents and writings such as few other scholars possessed, and he had devoted his whole life to the study of the writings and influence of Martin Luther. As a result, he published his thunderbolt. Within a month the book was out of print. It was perhaps the greatest attack ever delivered on any reformer. Denifle gave full and ample quotations for everything he said. A terrifying, dirty, dishonest Luther appeared, a Luther much blacker and more hideous by far than all his former opponents taken together had depicted him. And the worst of it was that Denifle had quoted hardly anything but Luther's own words.

The reaction must have been enormous. Here is how one of Luther's biographers describes it: “Lutheran Germany shook with wrath. . . . The reviews, the newspapers, all the periodicals of a country rich in printed matter, spoke of only one subject. And in “public assemblies, governments were interpellated on the subject of a frightful and positively blasphemous book” (L. Febure: “Luther—A Destiny”).

The sensation abroad was equally great. The book was translated, contradicted. Literally hundreds of books and pamphlets appeared. But the really important point is that the whole place of Luther and Lutheranism in the history of mankind underwent a change.

As a reply to Denifle, a Professor Boehmer—a great apologist of Luther—published a work which he called “Luther in the light of Modern Research”, which brought out the fundamental changes that had taken place within a few years in Lutheran research. The most valuable book of this period, one still unsurpassed today, was by a Protestant theologian, Ernst Troeltsch, Professor at Heidelberg. The amazing thing was that Troeltsch in his great work, “The Social Teachings of the Christian Churches,” expressed—to quote Professor L. Febure—corroborated certain of Denifle's views.”

Thus for the last four decades the Luther-legend has not existed any longer. Serious research has taken place, and Luther and his teachings are seen in a completely different light by scholars, historians, Germanists, theologians all over the world, than they were at the beginning of the century.

Except in England. Yes, it is true. The researches and advances made in Luther studies, the German Reformation, and history during the last four decades have been utterly and completely ignored in Britain. It is not surprising that such a quite and anything but excitable philosopher as Jacques Maritain could, in a recent article on Luther, refer to “Anglo-modern stupidity”.

The reasons for this neglect are manifold. First of all England is traditionally insular. In as many respects as the Channel has proved Britain's greatest asset, in as many respects—especially in the intellectual sphere—it has proved a drawback. What Maritain calls the atmosphere historique on the Continent, very often does not reach England (which incidentally is not always a drawback).

Secondly, no nation indulges so much as England in wishful thinking. No nation finds it so utterly impossible to get rid of prejudices. Even ten years of war within three decades, ten years of German aggression, brutality, atrocities under different leaders, different generals, by different people has not made the English abandon their legend of “the lovely Germany, the home of Beethoven and Goethe”. The Luther-legend had found a firmer holding in England than in any other country; and since the Reformer has been glorified by people such as Matthew Arnold and Carlyle, it seems that nothing will ever destroy the accepted belief.

Thirdly, this incapability of changing views and facing unpleasant but necessary facts is due to an education which still considers games as more important than thought.

Lastly and above all, this retarded attitude of mind is due to an intellectual desert island within the island. I am referring to the Universities. No one will doubt that English scientists and technicians, doctors and scholars of ancient subjects are second to none. But some modern subjects, those in which no technical ability counts and permanent progress of thought is necessary, are in a pitiful state in England.

Let us take merely my own subject: German, and the way it is taught at the place with the highest reputation for learning and scholarship—Oxford. The way German is taught in Oxford, and consequently all over the country, is laid down by the Professor of German at Oxford. From 1907 until 1937 Professor Fiedler held the Chair; he was succeeded by Professor Boyd. Under them the syllabus underwent no noticeable change; two World Wars left Oxford completely unaffected in this respect. That this is so may be seen from the publications which came from the pen of those two scholars during the last few years, when more than ever it was necessary that students of German should know something about National Socialism and its ancestors. Professor Boyd has published since he took over the professorship an edition of Goethe's “Iphigenia in Tauris”, and a collection in chronological order of Goethe's poems. Professor Fiedler has published a new edition of Goethe's Faust, Part II, and a collection of selected passages from German authors. The Oxford of 1945 is still, so far as the teaching of German is concerned, the Oxford of 1832. Hitler's Germany might as well not exist, since only the Germany of Goethe is taught.

It is significant that in his first sermon after his appointment as Archbishop of Canterbury, the late Dr. Temple appealed to the teachers of German not merely to teach the classics, but to have regard to some degree for grim and unpleasant realities.

To return to Luther. None of the books which gave a completely new interpretation of Luther was published in England for a long time. Twenty-six years after its publication, Boehmer's apology for Luther and his reply to Denifle was published. Professor Troeltsch's book had to wait until 1931 to find an English publisher. Bishop Gore wrote then in the introduction: “It stands beyond question without a rival as an exposition of Christian life and thought and their relations to contemporary social facts.” If that is so, one may well ask why it took some decades for it to be translated into English.

What I am going to state is, then, nothing new and original on the Continent, although to English ears it may sound blasphemous and heretic. I have indicated my limitations. Perhaps I may as well mention that, in spite of my shortcomings, I think I have some qualifications for speaking on Luther. It has been rightly observed that “Luther was so typical a German, one may even say so exclusively German, that a complete understanding can be expected only from a German”. For once my nationality seems to be an advantage.

There are so many conceptions which have undergone a complete and radical change since the works of Troeltsch, Weber, and Denifle appeared, that it would fill many volumes if I attempted to describe them all. However, I have at least to indicate briefly two important and fundamental new views.

For almost four centuries people spoke and thought of “The Reformation” as if it was a unity. Protestants in all countries believed that they adhered to the same principles, that they had some fundamental doctrine in common. This idea has been abandoned since the works of Weber and Troeltsch. “Protestantism” is a misnomer, a thing which does not exist. Troeltsch began to analyse the meaning of “Protestantism” and denied that such a conception was possible. Denifle makes it perfectly clear that he speaks of Lutheranism, which has little to do with Protestantism. “The first condition for a true understanding of Lutheranism is to understand its great difference from all other forms of Protestantism,” he writes; and Troeltsch points out again the great political difference between Calvinism and Lutheranism. “Lutheranism has found its strongest form of expression in the politics and world-outlook of the Prussian and German conservatives, through whom to-day Lutheranism still helps to determine the destinies of the German people.” “The restoration of Prussian-German Lutheranism was one of the most important events in social history. . . . Lutheranism hallowed the realistic sense of power and the ethical virtues of obedience, reverence, and respect for authority which are indispensable for Prussian militarism.” “In spite of the fact that originally Calvinism was very closely connected with Lutheranism, it has gradually become the very opposite of Lutheranism.” “Calvinism, on the other hand, in more recent times under the influence of Pietism and Methodism, to which it is closely akin, has upon the whole maintained its unphilosophical theology, or at least after the disturbances of the enlightenment it rediscovered it. In its close connection with English and American racial peculiarities and institutions, however, it has merged with and to some extent produced that political and social way of life which may be described as `Americanism'”.

These are, in a few quotations, Troeltsch's conclusions. He proved that from the social and political point of view, German Lutheranism and Swiss, French, Anglo-American Calvinism are not merely not connected, but directly opposed. I cannot at present explain in detail how he arrived at his conclusion. I can merely mention it, refer to his work (and perhaps to Tawney's and Christopher Dawson's writings on the subject), and state that I fully accept his views. Thus if during the following pages I should refer to “Protestants”, it is important to bear in mind that I am referring to German Protestants, i.e., Lutherans. However briefly I have touched on this point, I had to do it in order to avoid any possible misunderstanding. Since Troeltsch wrote, these views have been widely accepted and elaborated. “Calvinism”, the theologian Rauschenbusch has written, “had a far wider sphere of influence and a deeper effect on the life of the nations than Lutheranism because it continued to fuse religious faith and the demand for political liberty and social justice.” Canon Barry was even more outspoken ten years later: “Lutheranism is a very terrible anti-Christian system, peculiar to Germany, not to be confounded with Anglicanism or Calvinism, but sui generis, which in Luther became incarnate, in Prussia forged its sword, and in the distracted anaemic Eruope of the 20th century seemed to have discovered its prey. Luther was not the champion of liberty and freedom, either Catholic or Protestant. He was the voice of Germanism, which dreams that as religion, culture, government, and race it should be master of mankind. This Germanism must be conquered, or the end of genuine freedom is at the door.”

Another ten years later, these views were fully accepted in America. “It is well known that the leaders in the Reform or Protestant movement differed radically amongst themselves regarding theological matters. It is of importance to note that they also differed regarding political matters, and that these differences finally led to the rise of separate and opposed political philosophies.” I could give many more quotations to prove that nowadays people make a great difference between “Calvinism”, “Anglicanism”, and “Lutheranism”. While the two former have given rise to liberal thought and democracy in the course of history, the last-named is the foundation of Prussian militarism and the Herrenvolk.

It is perhaps interesting to note that a French scholar, Professor J. Paquier, has even gone so far as not merely to prove the existence of the same difference between French and German Protestants, but goes on to state that “We have no right to confuse German Lutheranism with Lutheranism as found in Alsace.” The whole conception of Protestantism has undergone a change which I have thought it necessary to mention, in order to provide a better understanding.

The other preliminary point which I can state only in the same summary way before I enter upon my subject proper, is the new place the whole of the Reformation movement has found, as the result of modern historical research, within the framework of history, and especially the connection between the Renaissance and the Reformation. This is indeed a stimulating subject, but all I can do here—in order that Luther the man, and his works, can be properly understood—is to try and describe very briefly what is the traditional view of these two movements, and how they are seen in the light of most recent research. I shall again merely state the conclusions, and must leave to a future and more elaborate study the tracing of the stimulating and enlightening way by which modern scholars have found the way to a true interpretation of the Renaissance and the Reformation and the relationship of the one and the other.

I think it is safe to say that it was the traditional view—and still is in many quarters—that the Renaissance was merely a revival of classical art and literature, pagan and spiritually hollow, while the Reformation went further and gave new and healthier life to religion and all other spiritual forces. “It is customary”, says the Cambridge Modern History, “to distinguish the Renaissance as the revival of letters from the Reformation as the revival of religion.” But the Renaissance was something much more. “The Renaissance stood for a complete Weltanschauung and culture, and not only a collection of remarkable fine creations”, remarks Berdyaev so rightly.

This complete Weltanschauung found during the Renaissance its way even into Germany, which was so far behind in its civilisation compared to the Latin countries. “The Renaissance is marked in the history of Germany by a notable enlargement of culture, learning, and education”, Professor H.A.L. Fisher tells us in his “History of Europe”.

It is difficult to describe the greatness of the Renaissance, the completeness of the movement and the period, in a few sentences. If I had the space I would quote whole chapters from the works of Jacob Burckhardt, to whom the world owes so much for a true understanding of the Renaissance.

However, I found that the description given in the Encyclopaedia Britannica sums up the whole movement in a fairly clear way. It states that it was not merely a revival of learning, but that the rediscovery of the classic past restored the confidence in their own faculties to men striving after spiritual freedom; revealed the continuity of history and the identity of human nature in spite of divers creeds and different customs; held up for emulation master-works of literature, philosophy, and art; provoked inquiries, encouraged criticism, shattered the narrow mental barriers imposed by medieval orthodoxy. It indicates the endeavour of man to reconstitute himself as a free being . . . and the peculiar assistance he derived in this effort from Greek and Roman literature, the literae humaniores, letters leaning to the side of man rather than of divinity.” This article appeared first in the ninth edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica and was written by J. A. Symonds. But now something very interesting happened. It was reproduced in the most recent, the fourteenth edition—but with a postscript by Professor P. Smith, a famous American scholar. Here is what Professor Smith adds: “Like most historians of the 19th century, Symonds regarded them both (the Renaissance and the Reformation) as libera movements . . Just as he was writing, however, Friedrich Nietzsche . . . proclaimed that `the Reformation was a reaction of backward minds against the Italian Renaissance'; and this view gained ground until it was adopted by Catholic historians like Lord Acton, Protestant historians like Ernst Troeltsch, and generally by the majority of scholars.”

Throughout Nietzsche's writings we find references to these two movements, and their relationship. “The Renaissance is the last great period of history”. “We have in the Reformation a disorderly and plebeian contradiction of the renaissance of Italy”. “The Germans have cheated Europe of the last great event of culture which Europe might have collected—the Renaissance”. “Luther's reformation was in its complete flatness the reaction of the simple mind against something cosmopolitan. . . . The debasing of European spirit, especially in the north, has made a marked advance with Luther's reformation.” “That Luther's reformation succeeded in the north is a proof how retarded the north of Europe is compared to the south.”

But perhaps the most remarkable of Nietzsche's sayings on the subject we find in his “Human, All Too Human”. “The Renaissance”, he writes, “had positive forces which have, as yet, never become so mighty again in our modern culture. It was the golden age of the best thousand years, in spite of all its blemishes and vices. On the other hand, the German reformation stands out as an energetic protest of antiquated spirits. . . With their northern strength and stiff-neckedness they threw mankind back again. . . . The great task of the Renaissance could not be brought to a termination; this was prevented by the protest of a contemporary backward spirit. It was the chance of an extraordinary constellation of politics that Luther was preserved, and that his protest gained strength, for the Emperor protected him in order to employ him as a weapon against the Pope, and in the same way he was secretly favoured by the Pope in order to use the Protestant princes as a counterweight against the Emperor. Without this curious counter-play of intentions, Luther would have been burnt like Huss—and the morning sun of enlightenment would probably have risen somewhat earlier, and with a splendour more beauteous than we can no imagine.”

It ought to be remembered that Nietzsche was the son of a Lutheran pastor, that he had a Lutheran upbringing himself, and that he knew Luther's teaching, Luther's influence, from within. There was some justification when Nietzsche could state in one of his very last writings: “People are no longer afraid of the ideal of the Renaissance.”

Scholars began to see and discover that the Renaissance and the humanists “were not pagan. A great deal of nonsense is talked about the `pagan' Renaissance.” People began to understand in what a great time Luther had been born, and what a unique chance he had, and how he utterly and completely not merely ignored this chance, but fought it with such disastrous consequences. The Reformation, that is to say the German Reformation, was no longer seen as a liberal and progressive movement, but as a fatal reactionary period against the greatness of the Renaissance. “It is an elementary error, but one which is still shared by many people who have read history superficially, that the Reformation established religious liberty and the right of private judgment”, says Prof. J. B. Bury in his “History of Freedom of Thought”. Or, as Prof. Oscar Levy, the English editor of Nietzsche's works, wrote in 1940, “Luther's reformation was a malediction upon art, poetry, beauty, knowledge, as well as upon greatness of heart, mind, will, and deed.” “The Reformation,” writes Dyer in his “History of Europe”, “was a reaction of the Teutonic mind against the Roman.”

The results were as to be expected. “The direct influence of the Reformation was at first unfavourable to scientific progress, for nothing could be more at variance with any scientific theory of development of the universe than the ideas of the Protestant leaders” (A. D. White: “History of the Warfare of Science and Theology within Christendom”). Germany especially was doomed. She had shown so much promise and so much hope at the beginning of the Renaissance, hopes which the advent of Luther and the German Reformation had annihilated once and forever. Typical and true are the words with which the Cambridge Modern History concludes its chapter on the German Reformation. “With the decay of civic life went also the ruin of municipal arts and civilisation. . . . Intellectually, morally and politically, Germany was a desert, and it was called religious peace."

I thought it necessary in order to provide better understanding of what I shall have to say in my subsequent chapters, to point to these two changes which have taken place in the historical interpretation of the Reformation. First of all, the great and fundamental difference between the Lutheran movement and the various other lines of reformation; and secondly, the relation which the Reformation has to its historical predecessor, the Renaissance. I hope that even if I could not indicate the actual line of research taken by the various scholars in arriving at their conclusions, I have at least made it reasonably clear what those conclusions were, and how far they are different from what we might perhaps call the antiquated or traditional views.

Since I have to limit myself, however, I shall deal merely with two aspects of the German Reformation. First I shall discuss, at some length what seems to me the real and true personality of Martin Luther. I shall do this for two reasons. First of all, the German Reformation is unthinkable without the personality and character of Luther himself. “The original point of reference in an effort to understand German Protestantism is the person and the writings of Martin Luther.” “Luther is the German Reformation, the German Reformation Luther.” “The evangelical Reformation of the sixteenth century is unthinkable without Luther. It owed its origin directly to him and it bears the stamp of his personality.” “No German has ever influenced so powerfully as Luther the religious life, and through it, the whole history of his people; none has ever reflected so faithfully, in his whole personal character and conduct, the peculiar features of that life and history.” “Lutheranism is not a system worked out by Luther; it is the overflow of Luther's individuality. . . . It is that which explains the `reformer's' immense influence.” These are typical comments.

I could give many more quotations of the same kind from Lutherans and Catholics alike which would justify me in devoting some time to the personal character of the Reformer. For I am as much convinced as all other biographers that an understanding of Lutheranism, and its effect, is completely impossible without a full understanding of Luther's personality.

The second reason why I shall discuss Luther the man at some length is because I hope to be able to destroy the “Luther-legend” to some extent. Nothing, to my mind, is so harmful to a true understanding of historical facts as the existence of some old legends which have no reasonable explanation. One of Luther's biographers wrote about the “hopelessness to fight the Luther-legend”. I am not quite so much of a pessimist. I think it is my duty as a teacher to try and acquaint my pupils with the facts, or at least the facts as I see them, and to produce in them a state of mind in which they may investigate for themselves, see and read on their own—before they accept traditional legends, irrespective of whether there is a shadow of truth about them or not.

After I shall have dealt with the character and personality of Luther, I shall try and explain some of the Reformer's social and political doctrines. I do not propose to enter into any discussion of Luther's doctrine, of his explanations of and views about the Scriptures. “The doctrine is what is least interesting in the history of Luther and Lutheranism,” says Funck-Brentano in his famous biography of Luther.

It is not always fully realised that Luther had not merely a great influence on political and social life (apart from the purely religious aspect), but that he was a political and social figure in his own times. “Luther was more of a politician than a theologian,” says Houston Stewart Chamberlain, one of his greatest admirers. He was “above all a political hero”. “It was Luther's first thought to look in the Scripture for a political reformation”. Religious and social questions mingle together in the Reformation; it was in fact quite as much a social and political revolution as a religious movement”. “Thus it was no accident that Luther was called on to take a leading part in the controversies.” Thus it happened that “Lutheranism was political”, and it is certainly with justification that a Protestant church historian calls Luther “one of the greatest politicians of Germany” (H. Hermelink in “Zeitschrift fur Kirchengeschichte”, vol. 29, 1908, p. 478).

After I have shown the personality and character of Martin Luther, his political and social teachings, I shall attempt to trace the influence exercised by the Reformer and his theories on the political life of Germany, and thus of Europe. It will then be the reader's task to decide whether I have proved my case when I stated that, in my opinion, the line from Luther to Hitler runs straight; and that one of the main causes, if not the main cause, which turned Germany into a country of barbarians, which produced a Germany attempting repeatedly to destroy all the values of western civilisation, was Martin Luther and his German Reformation.

CHAPTER II: LUTHER—THE MAN

LUTHER'S CHARACTER

I HOPE that I have already made it clear that I do not intend to give anything like a biography of Luther. The biographer ought to record all the known facts of a man's life, important the unimportant, pleasant and unpleasant—and then it should be the task of the reader to form his own judgment on the character of the man who has been described to him. True, especially in the case of Luther, this has often not been observed; and so-called biographers have been at pains to portray a reformer who was almost a saint, ignoring all his weaker and weakest points. There are, however, some quite excellent biographies of Luther, and to those who are concerned with getting a complete and unbiased picture, I would wholeheartedly recommend Funck-Brentano's work, “Martin Luther”, from which incidentally I shall quote quite often.

The task of the commentator is quite different from that of the biographer. The commentator does not even attempt, or pretend, to give a full picture. He takes some particular points and analyses and discusses them in detail in order to prove, or disprove—whatever the case may be—a particular theory. This is what I am trying to do. And since it is my object to trace Luther's influence on German political and social development, I shall discuss merely the factors which seem to me to be relevant.

I know of hardly any other man in history on whom it would be more difficult to talk than on Luther, for I fully realise that every statement of mine may be contradicted. First of all, this is because people find it very difficult to look at Luther in an unbiased way. Some glorify everything he has done, others vilify everything.

Take for example—quite apart from our subject—Luther's influence on the German language. Heinrich von Treitschke, the famous German historian, stated: “Luther invented the New High German in one day, at one stroke, he created it.” But the historian Janssen (who wrote sixteen volumes on German history in the Middle Ages) states quite definitely that “Luther created no new German language”, that Luther had no influence whatsoever on the development of German.

Now both these historians are scholars. But Treitschke is an ultra-national Lutheran, who sees in Luther a kind of god. Whatever Luther thinks and says is a miracle. Like God Himself he created a new language with one stroke. Janssen, on the other hand, is a Roman Catholic who sees no good whatsoever in Luther, and even the thought that the man who split the Catholic Church might have had some beneficial influence on his native tongue is abhorrent to him.

The truth lies probably, in this case, somewhere in the middle; but it will be seen how careful we have to be in accepting statements about Luther, however comment may be and will be contradicted.

Luther, admittedly, helped his commentators tremendously by his own writings. For these were a mass of contradictions. He was quite likely to affirm and to deny the same fact or phenomenon within a very short while; and thus he made it possible for “authorities” to quote whatever side they preferred. But it is just this wealth of contradictions which gives us the first clue to Luther's character. “For, like his doctrines and his writings, Luther's life was a mass of contradictions arising from the neurotic temperament” (Funck-Brentano).

From early youth, Luther was a very neurotic character. He had an extremely strict upbringing and tells us himself that “My mother flogged me until I bled on account of a single nut”. At school and university it was not much better. He was whipped by his teachers as often as fifteen times a day, all for ridiculous offences. “The undue severity of which he was the victim as a little boy left its mark on his character; he always remained somewhat timid, wild and mistrustful.” His friends already remarked then that young Luther “suffered from an uneasiness of spirit” and psychical abnormality”. He began very early in life to suffer from melancholia, and there can be no doubt that “his whole nervous system was strained”.

It is interesting to remember how he decided at this period to enter the Church. “On July 2, 1505, as the young man was returning from a visit to his parents at Magdeburg, a violent storm overtook him not far from Erfurt. As he was travelling alone near Stotterheim, a bold of lightning struck in his immediate vicinity and laid him prostrate on the ground. `Help me, help me! If thou helpest me, St. Anne, I will become a monk!'” So it was that he entered the monastery.

Nothing could have been worse for that frightened, nervous, emotional, unstable young man than the rather hard and monotonous life of a monk. Thus it is not surprising that his monastic life was full of strange incidents. “One day when Luther was present at High Mass in the monks' choir, he had a fit during the Gospel, which, as it happened, told the story of the man possessed. He fell to the ground and in his paroxysms behaved like one mad, shouting `I am not possessed, I am not possessed'.” We often hear in his later life that “hysterical weeping and sobbing overwhelmed him”. While he was still in the monastery, “the other monks often thought that he was possessed by the devil.”

Complete mental instability remained the keyword to his life. He tried to overcome his depressions by overwork or too much prayer, always overdoing things, with the result that his mental state deteriorated. There are many passages in his own writings which give us a good insight into Luther's psychological processes. Here is where he is overworking himself. “I need two secretaries. I do practically nothing all day long but write letters. . . . I am Preacher of the Convent and the Refectory; and vicar in the district, and therefore elevenfold Prior; I am responsible for the fish-ponds at Leitzkau; I am agent at Torgau in the suit for Herzberg parish church; I give lectures on St. Paul, I am collecting notes on the Psalter. I rarely have time to recite my Office and say Mass.” “Physically I am fairly well, but I suffer in spirit,” he would confess. “For more than the whole of last week I was tossed about in death and hell, so that I still tremble all over my body and am exhausted. Billows and tempests of despair and blasphemy assailed me and I had lost Christ almost entirely” (Luther's Letters, Enders Edition, vol. 1, pp. 66, 67, and vol. 6, page 71).

At other times he does nothing at all. “I am here in idleness,” he writes in 1521, “alas neglecting prayer and not sighing once for the Church of God. I burn with all the desires of my unconquered flesh. It is the ardour of the spirit that I ought to feel. But it is the flesh, desire, laziness, idleness and sleepiness that possess me” (ibid. vol. 3, page 189).

So it goes on and on; and the more we read Luther, the more we find how justified are those biographers of his who say: “It seems difficult to dismiss here the hypothesis of neuropathic disorder “(Maritain). Others describe his sufferings as “delirious hallucinations” (Funck-Grentano), “religious fanaticism” (Professor B. Schoen), or describe him simply as “mentally deranged” (ibid).

Even his greatest admirers and apologists have to admit that he suffered from “religious melancholia”, “mania for persecution”, or “a mania for greatness”(Professors A. Hausrath, J. Husslein, A. Harnack).

The older he grew, the worse he got. He suffers from “temptations” and especially from “devil-mania”. Everything he disliked, everybody who disagreed with him, was inspired by the Devil. “He was subject to numerous strange hallucinations and vibrations which he attributed invariably to the direct action of Satan. Satan become, in consequence, the dominating conception of his life.” “It is one of the chief characteristics of Luther that in his intellectual life, in his social intercourse, in speech, in writing, and in preaching he always brought in the Devil—attributed far more influence and importance to him that is warranted by Scripture, and by his writings gained for him in Germany a popularity which he had never before enjoyed. . . .All the slumbering germs of superstition both among the rude masses and the higher circles were by this means awakened and set in motion.”

Luther's sayings on the subject are too numerous to be quoted. But it certainly is true that he forced back upon Germany a belief in miracles, superstitions, mysticism, a fanatical belief in evil powers which under the influence of the Renaissance were rapidly losing ground.

Here it must be mentioned that there is something which makes it difficult to quote his sayings, not merely on the Devil, but on many other subjects. This is his language. “Satan sleeps with me much more than my wife does”, is a relatively harmless remark. Other quotations can be given only with dashes indicating unprintable indecencies.

Luther's language was indeed something quite abominable and indescribable. “He is obsessed with filth and obscenity”, writes Maritain. To call it “revolutionary journalism” is an understatement. “He would be furiously angry, and when he was angry he fairly vomited filth. He wrote things one cannot quote in decent English,” is much nearer to the mark. This again, was only the natural outcome of his neurotic character. There was nothing godlike or holy about him, there was little patience or human understanding; he loved to scream, shout and blaspheme in the manner of the most vulgar German politician, such as our generation has seen more than enough. With pride he himself exclaimed; “Rage acts as a stimulant to my whole being. It sharpens my wits, puts a stop to the assaults of the Devil and drives out care. Never do I write or speak better than when I am in a rage. If I wish to compose, write, pray and preach well, I have to be in a rage” (“Table Talk,” 1210).

It is particularly interesting to note what he understood by “praying well”. “If I can no longer pray, I can at least curse. I will no longer say `Hallowed by Thy Name', but “Curse and blast and damn the name of Papist'. I will no longer say “Thy Kingdom come', but will repeat “Curse and damn the Papacy and send it to perdition'. Yes, that is how I pray, and I do so every day of my life and from the bottom of my heart” (E25, 108).

It may be argued that the language of the Middle Ages knew different standards from that of our own time. But, “in this respect Luther went far beyond the custom among educated men of his time, shocking his friends and leaving his opponents speechless with rage and amazement at his audacity.”

It may be urged that a man who said and wrote so many lovely things, might well be entitled to overstep the limit occasionally in the other direction. But Luther's writings were rarely beautiful, and most of them display “an undignified vulgarity, spiced with sexual allusions.” I fully agree with one of his commentators (H. Hallam) who says of his language that “Its intemperance, its coarseness, its negligence, its inelegance, its scurrility, its wild paradoxes menaced the foundations of religious morality and were not compensated by much strength and acuteness and still less by any impressive eloquence” (“Introduction to the Literature of Europe”).

This mythical, mentally unbalanced, diseased character was the hero of the Reformation. His intemperance, his persecution mania, his varying moods, were the origin of his permanent contradictions. There was nothing reasonable in him. Indeed, he admitted himself that he hated reason, and that he was guided merely by his passions, by his violent temper. More than once he condemned in his violent language, reason and a reasonable approach to matters. “Reason is the Devil's greatest whore; by nature and an manner of being she is a noxious whore; she is a prostitute, the Devil's appointed whore; whore eaten by scab and leprosy who ought to be trodden under foot and destroyed, she and her wisdom. . . . Throw dung in her face to make her ugly. She is and she ought to be drowned in baptism. . . . She would deserve, the wretch, to be banished to the filthiest place in the house, to the closets” (E16, 142-148). There are many more sayings in the same sense, though not always so dirtily phrased. “Usury, drunkenness, adultery—these crimes are self-evident and the world knows that they are sinful; but that bride of the Devil, `Reason', stalks abroad, the fair courtesan, and wishes to be considered wise, and thinks that whatever she says comes from the Holy Ghost. She is the most dangerous harlot the Devil has.” “Reason is contrary to faith”, he writes elsewhere. “Reason is the whore of the Devil. It can only blaspheme and dishonour everything God has said or done” (E29, 241) So it goes on and on.

It is here, in Luther's teachings, in his personality, in his hatred of reason, that we find the seeds of the German belief in a romantic world, of the distrust of anything logical and reasonable. Luther's violent language and temper, his inability to speak and think like a rational being, made him distrust and dislike reason; and his nation—who accepted this new Christianity only too willingly—believed in it and welcomed it as a modern religion.

It is interesting to compare how two great scholars, utterly different in outlook and views, interpret this anti-rational hysteria of Martin Luther—Nietzsche, the free thinker, and Jacquest Maritain, who so nobly attempts to make an unchristian world more Christian.

Nietzsche quotes Luther's “If we could conceive by reason that God who shows so much wrath and malignity could be merciful and just, what use should we have in faith?"” and the philosopher continues: "“from the earliest times, nothing has ever made a deeper impression upon the German soul, nothing has ever tempted it more, than that deduction, the most dangerous of all, which for every true Latin is a sin against the intellect: credo quia absurdum est."

Maritain for his part gives quotations in which Luther expresses his dislike of reason; and the Catholic philosopher continues: “I have quoted these passages because it is instructive to discern in the beginning, in its authentic tone and quality, the false anti-intellectualist mysticism which was to poison so many minds in more subtle and less candid guises in the nineteenth century. . . . Luther delivered man from the intelligence, from that wearisome and besetting compulsion to think always and think logically.”

How few people do realise the deep and permanent connection between religion and politics, faith and world-affairs! So many English people indulge in wishful thinking. They argue according to their own logic. They assume that the Germans adopt the same logic. They try to show a light to the Germans which the Germans do not only not want, but which they despise. Their Christ, their God, their Messiah—Martin Luther—taught them to hate reason and intelligence, and they followed willingly and ever since.

Some people might be surprised, or indeed shocked, if I called Luther “Germany's Christ”—but that is just what he tried to be himself, an attempt which was only too successful.

“It was not long before Luther's pseudo-mysticism translated itself into deeds. He persuades himself that he is guided in all his actions and resolutions by a sort of Divine inspiration.” He first began to explain, in a new fashion, “God's Word”. But it soon became apparent that “by `God's Word' Luther of course always meant his own interpretation of Scripture, his own doctrine, which he prided himself has been revealed to him by God.”

“When I am angry, I am not expressing my own wrath, but the wrath of God”. Luther knew that he was superior to any man or saint. “St. Augustine or St. Ambrosius cannot be compared with me.” “They shall respect our teaching which is the word of God, spoken by the Holy Ghost, through our lips”. “Not for a thousand years has God bestowed such great gifts on any bishop as He as on me” (E61, 422). “God has appointed me for the whole German land, and I boldly vouch and declare that when you obey me you are without a doubt obeying not me but Christ” (W15, 27). “Whoever obeys me not, despises not me but Christ.” “I believe that we are the last trump that sounds before Christ is coming”. “What I teach and write remains true even though the whole world should fall to pieces over it.” (W18, 401). “Whoever rejects my doctrine cannot be saved.” “Nobody should rise up against me”.

“No mortal ever spoke of himself as Luther did”. His persecution mania turned with advancing years into a mania of self-glorification, of grandeur. He really and truly believed that he was God's representative upon earth. He did not refrain from saying and teaching, “I am Christ”; and he exclaimed, almost in the same breath, “I am the prophet of the Germans, for such is the haughty title I must henceforth assume.”

Thus I cannot thing that I said too much when I called Luther “the German Christ”—for such is what he wanted to be, what he believed himself to be, and what, unfortunately, his fellow-countrymen accepted him to be.

Luther's God and Luther's Christ had to be blamed—and this is a natural

consequence of the Reformer's character, views and manias—for every wrong Luther himself committed. “If God is concerned for the interests of His son He will watch over me; my cause is the cause of Jesus Christ. If God careth not for the glory of Christ, He will endanger His own and will have to bear the shame.”

Thus, quite naturally, Luther does not always see eye to eye with God or Christ. “I have greater confidence in my wife and my pupils than I have in Christ,” he said on one occasion quite shamelessly (“Table Talk”, 2397b). “When I beheld Christ I seemed to see the Devil”. I had a great aversion for Christ”. “Often I was horrified at the name of Christ, and when I regarded Him on the Cross, it was as if I had been struck by lightning; and when I heard His name mentioned, I would rather have heard the name of the Devil” (see Janssen **, 72; also Maritain, “Three Reformers”, p. 169). “I did not believe in Christ,” wrote Luther in 1537. The example of Jesus Christ Himself very often meant nothing to Luther (see E29, 196).

God, on the other hand, seemed to him “a master armed with a stick”. “God did mischievously blind me”; “God often acts like a madman”; “God paralyses the old and blinds the young and thus remains master”; I look upon God no better than a scoundrel”; “God is stupid” (“Table Talk”, No. 963, W1, 48)

Strange sayings from the mouth of the reformer! But stranger still are his references to God and Christ when it comes to Luther's own shortcomings. We shall see later his own attitude to sex and morality. But he excused his own adultery—to quote merely one more example—by the teachings of Christ. “Christ”, says Luther, “committed adultery first of all with the woman at the well about whom Saint John tells us. Was not everybody about Him saying: `Whatever has he been doing with her?” Secondly, with Mary Magdalene, and thirdly with the woman taken in adultery whom He dismissed so lightly. Thus even Christ, who was so righteous, must have been guilty of fornication before He died” (“Table Talk”, 1472) (W2, 107).

I have quoted chiefly Luther's own words, and have shown his character as I believe it was. To my mind this is the infinite tragedy of Luther and Germany, that he himself believed in his manias, in his mission from God, in his replacing Christ—and that his countrymen believed it, too. Who will ever decide whether a country produces her outstanding men, or whether these outstanding men have a revolutionary influence on their country? In Luther's case probably both are true. Nowhere else but in Germany, which was not yet as civilised as the Latin countries, could a man like Luther have been born and bred. And nowhere else could a man like Luther—hysterical, irrational, irreligious—have been followed by the whole nation for centuries. A nation which found it easy to accept a character like Luther as Christ, could not find it difficult to accept a man like Hitler as Messiah.

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