Ecumenical Perspectives Five Hundred Years After Luther’s Reformation (Pathways for Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue) 3030683591, 9783030683597

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PATHWAYS FOR ECUMENICAL AND INTERRELIGIOUS DIALOGUE

Ecumenical Perspectives Five Hundred Years After Luther’s Reformation Edited by Gerard Mannion · Dennis M. Doyle Theodore G. Dedon

Pathways for Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue Series Editor Mark Chapman Ripon College University of Oxford Oxford, UK

Building on the important work of the Ecclesiological Investigations International Research Network to promote ecumenical and inter-faith encounters and dialogue, the Pathways for Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue series publishes scholarship on such engagement in relation to the past, present, and future. It gathers together a richly diverse array of voices in monographs and edited collections that speak to the challenges, aspirations, and elements of ecumenical and interfaith conversation. Through its publications, the series allows for the exploration of new ways, means, and methods of advancing the wider ecumenical cause with renewed energy for the twenty-first century. More information about this series at http://www.palgrave.com/gp/series/14561

Gerard Mannion Dennis M. Doyle  •  Theodore G. Dedon Editors

Ecumenical Perspectives Five Hundred Years After Luther’s Reformation

Editors Gerard Mannion Department of Theology Georgetown University Washington, DC, USA

Dennis M. Doyle Department of Religious Studies University of Dayton Dayton, OH, USA

Theodore G. Dedon Department of Theological and Religious Studies Georgetown University Washington, DC, USA

ISSN 2634-6591     ISSN 2634-6605 (electronic) Pathways for Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue ISBN 978-3-030-68359-7    ISBN 978-3-030-68360-3 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-68360-3 © The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG. The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland

Contents

1 Introduction  1 Dennis M. Doyle and Theodore G. Dedon Part I The Meaning and Reception of Luther’s Reformation   9 2 Open Temple and Dialogical Church: How to Fulfill the Reform of Paul and the Protestant Reformation? A Keynote Address 11 Gerd Theissen 3 Martin Luther Between His Message and the Celebration of His Fifth Centenary 29 Peter Neuner 4 “Happy Birthday, Comrade Martin!” The 500th Anniversary of Luther’s Birth and the Challenge to State Authority in the German Democratic Republic 45 Stephen G. Brown 5 Freedom from the Law: From Luther to Agamben 67 Craig A. Phillips

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6 From Julius Evola to Anders Breivik: The Invented Tradition of Far-Right Christianity 83 Theodore G. Dedon Part II Ecumenical Explorations 107 7 Jewish and Christian Traditions of the Interpretation of Scripture According to Robert Bellarmine109 Amy E. Phillips 8 Ecumenism and Jewish-Christian Dialogue: New Ways of Approaching Old Problems123 Luc Forestier 9 From Conflict to Communion: Ecclesiology at the Center of Recent Lutheran-Orthodox Dialogues and the 2016 Orthodox Council of Crete139 Radu Bordeianu 10 A Lutheran Reflection on Lived Ecumenism161 Samuel Wagner 11 Spreading the Word through the Image: Luther, Cranach, and the Reformation171 Gesa E. Thiessen 12 Book Panel: Conversations with Bernhard Knorn, S.J.191 Dennis M. Doyle, Simone Sinn, Ralf K. Wüstenberg, and Bernhard Knorn Part III The Way Forward 217 13 The Freedom of a Christian: Memory and Reconciliation219 Leo D. Lefebure

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14 Together in Hope for the Ecumenical Future239 John Borelli 15 Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue at Vatican II and in Its Aftermath: Charting the Way Forward259 Peter C. Phan Index277

Notes on Contributors

Radu  Bordeianu is an orthodox associate professor at Duquesne University in Pittsburgh, United States. His research focuses on ecumenical ecclesiologies. He is the author of Dumitru Staniloae: An Ecumenical Ecclesiology (2011; softcover 2013). He has served as the president of the Orthodox Theological Society of America and is the director of Duquesne’s Holy Spirit Lecture. He is a co-convener of the Christian-­ Jewish Dialogue in Pittsburgh and is involved in  local ecumenical dialogues. John  Borelli  is Special Assistant for Catholic Identity and Dialogue to the President of Georgetown University since 2004, served 16 years at the U.S.  Conference of Catholic Bishops in ecumenical and interreligious affairs, and was a consulter to Holy See for that period. With a doctorate (Fordham 1976) in history of religions and theology, he has edited or coauthored 5 books and over 200 articles in these areas. Stephen G. Brown  is the editor of the Ecumenical Review. He studied theology in Cambridge and East Berlin and received a PhD from the University of Reading, UK, for his thesis on the role of the Conciliar Process for Justice, Peace and the Integrity of Creation in transforming disaffection to dissent in East Germany. He has written extensively on ecumenical issues and on the church in the GDR. Theodore G. Dedon  is a PhD candidate in the Department of Theology and Religious Studies at Georgetown University specializing in religion and international affairs. His work is focused specifically on the ­intersection ix

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between Christianity and nationalism, focusing especially on the new Christian nationalism as a global challenge to the postwar liberal world order. He is particularly interested in the role of Christian identity and Christian history in furnishing nationalism both in the East and in the West, especially in Russia and Ukraine. In 2020, he was awarded Teacher of the Year by Georgetown’s Graduate School of Arts and Sciences. He is the coeditor of the volume Love, Marriage, and Family in Eastern Orthodox Perspective (2016) and the author of several articles on Christian and Islamic history and theology. Dennis  M.  Doyle  holds a PhD in Religious Studies from the Catholic University of America and has taught at the University of Dayton for over 35 years. He is the coeditor of the volume from the 2011 Ecclesiological Investigations Network conference, Ecclesiology and Exclusion (2012). He is the author of Communion Ecclesiology: Vision and Versions (2000) as well as two textbooks, What Is Christianity? (2016) and The Catholic Church in a Changing World (2019). He has long been involved in ecumenical work. Luc Forestier  is the director of the IER (Institut Supérieur de Sciences Religieuses), a theological program for lay people and religious men and women, and teaches at the Theologicum, the Faculty of Theology of the Institut Catholique de Paris (Catholic University of Paris). He teaches theology of the Church, theology of ministries, and hermeneutics of Vatican II and methodology, and codirects a doctoral seminar on exegesis and ecclesiology. Bernhard Knorn  is a Jesuit priest and research scholar in systematic theology at Boston College and Frankfurt–Sankt Georgen. His areas of interest are contemporary soteriology and Catholic ecclesiology in ecumenical perspective, as well as sixteenth-century Jesuit theologians. He did pastoral work in South Sudan, joining the efforts of local communities for reconciliation after the civil wars, and he studied the German-Polish reconciliation process after World War II. Leo D. Lefebure  is Professor of Theology at Georgetown University and is the author of True and Holy: Christian Scripture and Other Religions (2013). He is an honorary research fellow of the Chinese University of Hong Kong and a Trustee Emeritus of the Council for a Parliament of the World’s Religions. He is a long-time participant in dialogues with Muslims, Jews, Buddhists, and Hindus.

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Gerard  Mannion held the Joseph and Winifred Amaturo Chair in Catholic Studies at Georgetown University, where he was also a senior research fellow of the Berkley Center for Religion, Peace and World Affairs. Educated at the Universities of Cambridge and Oxford, he was an honorary fellow of the Australian Catholic University and held visiting professorships and fellowships at universities such as Tübingen, Germany; the Dominican Institute for Theology and University of St. Michael’s College, Toronto, Canada; the Institute of Religious Sciences in Trento, Italy; and the Katholieke Universiteit Leuven in Belgium. He has served as chair of the Ecclesiological Investigations International Research Network, and numerous books and articles have been published particularly in the fields of ecclesiology, ecumenism, ethics and social justice. Peter  Neuner is Professor Emeritus of Dogmatic and Ecumenical Theology at the Ludwig-Maximilian University of Munich and was for many years the director of the Ecumenical Research Institute there. He is a former head of the Union of German-Speaking Dogmatic and Fundamental Theologians. Among his many books is Martin Luthers Reformation: Eine katholische Würdigung (2017). Peter C. Phan  is the inaugural holder of the Ignacio Ellacuría Chair of Catholic Social Thought at Georgetown University and is the founding director of the Graduate Studies Program in Theology and Religious Studies. He began his teaching career in philosophy at Don Bosco College, Hong Kong. In the United States, he has taught at the University of Dallas, the Catholic University of America, Union Theological Seminary, Elms College, and St. Norbert College. He is the first non-white person to be elected as the president of Catholic Theological Society of America. In 2010 he was awarded the John Courtney Murray Award for outstanding achievements in theology. Amy E. Phillips  is a librarian for Howard University. She holds an MSLS from the Catholic University of America and an MTS from Boston University, where she focused on ancient Judaism and early Christianity. Her research interests include the censorship of Jewish books and Jewish conversion in sixteenth-century Italy. Craig  A.  Phillips is the Rector of St. Peter’s Episcopal Church in Arlington, Virginia. He serves as adjunct faculty at Virginia Theological Seminary. Phillips is a former assistant professor of Religion at Temple

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University. Phillips completed his doctoral work in Theology and Ethics at Duke University in 1993. He holds an MDiv from Harvard Divinity School and an AB in Religious Studies and Classics from Brown University. Simone  Sinn is Professor of Ecumenical Theology at the Ecuenical Institue, Château de Bossey. She was previously study secretary for public theology and interreligious relations at the Lutheran World Federation, Geneva. She studied Protestant Theology in Bethel, Heidelberg, and Tübingen, and Ecumenical Studies at the Irish School of Ecumenics in Dublin. In her doctoral research at the University of Münster, she examined the discursive entanglement of politics of religion and theologies of religion in Indonesia (Religiöser Pluralismus im Werden, Mohr Siebeck 2014). Gerd  Theissen  is Professor Emeritus of New Testament Studies at the University of Heidelberg. His areas of emphasis in research and teaching are the social history of early Christianity, the historical Jesus, and the theory of early Christian religion/theology of the New Testament. For his ground-breaking work he has received numerous honors, including the Burkitt Medal for Biblical Studies from the British Academy. He is also a member of the Heidelberg Academy of Sciences and Humanities (Heidelberger Akademie der Wissenschaften). Gesa  E.  Thiessen  is an adjunct assistant professor at the Confederal School of Religions, Peace Studies and Theology at Trinity College, Dublin, and also lectures at St. Patrick’s College, Maynooth, and at Sarum College, Salisbury. Her articles on theology and the arts and on ecumenical ecclesiology have been widely published. She is a non-stipendiary minister in the Lutheran Church in Ireland. Samuel  Wagner  is director for Dialogue and Catholic Identity in the Office of the President at Georgetown University, and previously served for ten years in the Secretariat for Ecumenical and Interreligious Affairs at the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops. He staffs the Building Bridges Seminar, an annual meeting of Christian and Muslim scholars from across the globe. He also manages a wide variety of Catholic, ecumenical, and interreligious events at Georgetown, in addition to involvement with ongoing institutional relationships in Rome. A Lutheran, he studied the religions of India at the Catholic University of America. In his free time he leads Taizé services on sitar.

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Ralf K. Wüstenberg  is Professor of Evangelical Theology at the Institute for Social Science and Theology at Europa-University Flensburg. His specializations include Comparative Theology, Systematic and Historical Theology, and Social Ethics. He is the author of several books, including most recently Verständigung und Versöhnung. Beiträge von Kirche, Religion und Politik 70 Jahre nach Kriegsende.

List of Illustrations

Illustration 11.1

Lucas Cranach the Elder, Law and Gospel, Herzogliches Museum, Schloss Friedenstein Gotha, 1529, accessed at https://commons.wikimedia. org/w/index.php?curid=49211482 {PD-art-US} Illustration 11.2 Lucas Cranach the Elder, finished by Lucas Cranach the Younger, Christus am Kreuz, from Weimar Altarpiece, Peter and Paul Church, Weimar, 1555, accessed at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ St._Peter_und_Paul,_Weimar#/media/ File:Weimaraltar-­1555-­B.jpg {PD-art-US} Illustration 11.3  Lucas Cranach the Elder, Der Babstesel zu Rom (The Papal Ass in Rome), 1523, New York Public Library Digital Collections, accessed at http://digitalcollections. nypl.org/items/74a8af59-­2a7a-­c882-­e040-­ e00a180604ac {PD-art-US}

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CHAPTER 1

Introduction Dennis M. Doyle and Theodore G. Dedon

Gerard Mannion provided the initial momentum that brought about the Ecclesiological Investigations Network conference held in Jena, Germany, in 2017 from which this volume of essays has been drawn. Gerard was a mover and shaker when it came to ecumenical action. As ecclesiologist Brian Flanagan of Marymount University wrote in a recent memorial, rather than waiting for ecclesial divisions to cease or for official dialogues to reach their conclusions, Gerard attempted to simply live into a world where ecclesial divisions mattered, but did not matter that much; in which the realities of difference were never ignored, but also never allowed to dominate relations between people or provide cover for dismissive attitudes. In the face of the “not yet” of the divisions of the church, Gerard lived into the

D. M. Doyle (*) Department of Religious Studies, University of Dayton, Dayton, OH, USA e-mail: [email protected] T. G. Dedon Department of Theological and Religious Studies, Georgetown University, Washington, DC, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 G. Mannion et al. (eds.), Ecumenical Perspectives Five Hundred Years After Luther’s Reformation, Pathways for Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-68360-3_1

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“already” of being with others across the divisions of the church, both theologically in the voices he listened to and amplified in his scholarship, and personally in the ways in which he brought people together.1

This volume represents one small piece of the many contributions of Gerard Mannion to ecumenical theology. The essays collected here address important issues such as the meaning of the Reformation, the reception of Luther in Germany and beyond, contemporary ecumenical dialogues, and pathways to the future. The authors employ a number of methodologies. Taken as a whole, the primary method of this book is theology informed by history, hermeneutics, ethics, and social theory. The main focus is on Reformation Christianity and on current Lutheran-­ Catholic understandings and relationships. There is also some inclusion of Jewish and Orthodox traditions as well as global issues. The majority of authors are from the United States and Germany, with some from other parts of the world. On the one hand, the volume includes many essays by easily recognized and established figures. On the other hand, the volume continues the tradition of Ecclesiological Investigations Network by including also contributions by younger, emerging scholars. Given the conference’s location in Jena and that two of the headline speakers were prominent German Luther scholars, the volume is oriented toward what has come to be thought of as the German interpretation of Luther that focuses on the doctrine of justification and Luther’s break from Rome in connection with the birth of the modern world. It should be noted that the alternative Finnish interpretation of Luther associated with Tuomo Mannermaa is not addressed in this volume.2 This interpretation, currently popular in the Nordic countries and beyond, emphasizes parallels between Luther’s thought and Orthodox tradition, especially in regard to divinization. Within the structure of the book can be found the classic hermeneutical circle: What was the meaning of the Reformation for Luther in his own time? What are various ways in which Luther and the Reformation have been interpreted in history? How does knowledge of these things help us today to understand the Reformation and to move forward? This arrangement mirrors the “Pathways for Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue” 1  Brian Flanagan, “In Memoriam: Gerard Mannion (1970–2019),” Ecumenical Trends 49/3 (May 2020): 25. 2  See Carl E.  Braaten and Robert W.  Jenson, eds., Union with Christ: The New Finnish Interpretation of Luther (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1998).

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pattern of asking: Where have we been? Where are we now? Where are we heading? The first section on the meaning and reception of the Reformation opens with back to back essays by two esteemed German theologians, one a renowned Protestant biblical scholar and the other a famous Roman Catholic ecclesiologist. Both authors, Gerd Theissen and Peter Neuner, focus on Luther’s interpretation of Paul, and both find in Luther’s teaching on justification a key to addressing present ecumenical challenges. Gerd Theissen’s contribution, initially a keynote address, offers a visionary overview that builds summarily upon his life work. Theissen argues that it is the task of contemporary Christians to continue the reforms begun by Paul and Luther, especially in areas where they were not successful. The meaning of their messages of reform must be translated into our current times as recognition of the ultimate value of each person and the need to fight against oppressive boundaries. Theissen examines the sparks that ignited the reforms of Paul and of Luther in order to draw inspiration for igniting a third spark today, based in mysticism, that will be manifested in a Dialogical Bible as well as in interreligious cooperation in the pursuit of universal human rights. Peter Neuner observes that celebrations of the 500th anniversary of Luther’s Reformation tend to honor Luther more as a contemporary cultural celebrity than as an historical figure. Images of Luther are put in the service of various causes and forms of commerce. Few seem interested in Luther’s own thoughts regarding religious faith and reform. A similar tendency can be found in every era since the time of Luther. Neuner offers an historical survey of various ways in which Luther has been interpreted to fit the purposes of particular times and movements. He also addresses the negative reception of Luther among Catholics as well as the very gradual shift toward acceptance and even endorsement. He recommends that Protestants and Catholics today try to build together an ecumenical reception upon what was truly important to Luther—the doctrine of justification. Stephen Brown focuses on the reception of Luther in the territories that after the Second World War made up the German Democratic Republic (GDR). These territories were the heartland of the Lutheran Reformation. Brown explores how the ruling Socialist Unity Party (SED), although initially deeply ambivalent about Martin Luther and his legacy, attempted to use the 500th anniversary of Luther’s birth to re-appropriate motifs in German history it had previously spurned and to incorporate the

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GDR’s Protestant churches into the strengthening of the socialist state. Instead, the commemoration contributed to the self-confidence of the Protestant churches, and the official attempt to construct a new national narrative for the GDR ultimately failed. Brown demonstrates how the consequences of this failure would be seen in the growth of disaffection and dissent within the Protestant churches and beyond, and which became manifest in the “peaceful revolution” of 1989. Craig Phillips examines how Paul and Luther are being received in the work of the political theorist Giorgio Agamben. Agamben employs a secular, non-theological, reading of Pauline messianism in order to make law inoperative, such that law can be restored to its common use in the plane of social and political praxis. Phillips begins with an investigation of what “freedom from the law” means for Agamben’s philosophical project by contrasting it with Martin Luther’s theological understanding of “freedom from the law.” He then investigates Simon Critchley’s critique of Agamben’s radically antinomian understanding of faith and its relationship to law. Finally, Phillips contrasts the passive righteousness that Luther finds in Christian freedom with the freedom Agamben finds in law that has been made inoperative. For Luther and Agamben the way to genuine freedom is not through action, but through inaction. Theodore Dedon investigates ways in which false narratives about medieval Christianity and the Reformation are used within contemporary far-right political visions. Drawing upon Eric Hobsbawm’s concept of “invented tradition,” Dedon analyzes a species of reactionary far-right politics that utilizes and sometimes criticizes Christianity, both Catholic and Protestant. Specifically engaged in the promotion of white identitarianism against encroaching Islamism, liberalism, and globalism, these political actors have invented forms of Christianity which would be otherwise alien to their historical counterparts. Dedon examines non-Christian thinkers such as Julius Evola alongside cultural Christians such as Anders Breivik and explicit Christian identitarians such as Brenton Tarrant, both of whom are infamous for terrorist acts in defense of “western civilization.” He contextualizes their claims historically and sheds light on how seemingly traditional symbols, concepts, or historical episodes are used in ways that are ahistorical and thoroughly modern. The book’s middle section focuses on ecumenical relations, offering two essays on Jewish-Christian relations followed by essays exploring connections between Lutherans with Orthodox, Roman Catholic, and Reformed traditions. Amy Phillips’ essay explores how Robert Bellarmine’s

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training as a Hebraist and work as a censor afforded him the opportunity to encounter Jewish literature with a depth that rivaled his Protestant and Christian Hebraist counterparts. She demonstrates how Bellarmine’s positions on Scripture give insight into how the decrees of Council of Trent were interpreted. Bellarmine follows the reforming decrees of Trent and provides an exegetical complexity that did not formerly exist in apologetics against Luther’s and other Protestant readings of Scripture, especially in his work Disputationes de controversiis Christianae fidei. Although censors at the Congregation for the Index of Prohibited Books wanted the elimination of all Jewish literature, Bellarmine called for moderation, arguing that insight and value could be found in rabbinic commentaries. His encounter with the Talmud was not without misunderstanding but it enriched his awareness of interpretations offered by Jewish scholars at a time when the Talmud was forbidden, censored, or burned. Luc Forestier traces out an important though often invisible connection between Jewish-Christian relationships and the Ecumenical Movement, starting from 1947 with the “Ten Points” of the Conference in Seelisberg (Switzerland). He builds upon the fact that for most churches today, the permanency of Israel presents not only a historical fact but also a theological issue which may sometimes create division within and between denominations. Forestier shows how the question of biblical hermeneutics becomes central as we discover in these texts signs of the ongoing debates within the Christian communities about relationships between Jews and Christians. He even finds in the establishing of a new tradition of biblical interpretation by Martin Luther an example of the interaction between the canon of Scripture and the People of God. And this interaction, he suggests, may give a new relevance to the articulation of Christian ordinances as displayed by the Lambeth Quadrilateral. Finally, Forestier explains how the distinction between the People of God and the eschatological kingdom raises questions which belong to fundamental theology. Radu Bordeianu first briefly outlines the history of the Orthodox-­ Lutheran dialogue, beginning in the sixteenth century, when the Ecumenical Patriarchate had contacts with Melanchthon and Tübingen’s theologians, up to today’s dialogue, focused on ecclesiology. Then, to anticipate the direction of future Orthodox-Lutheran dialogues, he addresses three themes that were prominent at the 2016 Council of Crete: first, under the influence of anti-ecumenical elements, the council did not consistently designate Western Christians as “churches,” instead using

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“confessions” or “communities,” which is a most recent innovation; second, the Lutheran-Orthodox dialogue will have to seriously consider the role of politics in ecclesial matters, since both our churches have suffered over the centuries from the state’s hindering of church unity; and third, despite paralyzing intra-Orthodox dynamics and negative experiences at the World Council of Churches that have now been addressed, Orthodoxy remains committed to ecumenical dialogue, now with a conciliar mandate. Samuel Wagner draws upon twenty years of ecumenical experience to consider positive impacts and lessons learned as a Lutheran living and working alongside Catholic peers, colleagues, and mentors. Beginning with a graduate education at The Catholic University of America, then a career at the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops’ office for ecumenical and interreligious relations, and now presently in the Office of the President at Georgetown University, he explores how appreciation for one’s own tradition (in this case, Lutheran) can be deepened while engaged in projects to promote ecumenical and interreligious dialogue for Catholic institutions. His reflection highlights insights gained from involvement in this unique career path, concluding with the impact of Pope Francis as Lutherans and Catholics commemorate the 500th anniversary of the Reformation. Gesa Thiessen demonstrates in her essay how Luther rejected the outright iconoclasm of Reformers such as Zwingli and Calvin and instead adopted a balanced position. She shows how Luther recognized the danger of the misuse of images while acknowledging their role in spreading the gospel and in clarifying the Christian message, considered the choice to use or not use images to be a matter of Christian liberty. Luther, explains Thiessen, opposed not material images but their misuse, especially when connected with the belief that good works merit salvation, and he found idolatry to lie not in material objects but in the human heart. She demonstrates further how Lutheran art came to be used in polemics against Calvinists and Catholics alike; how Lucas Cranach the Elder, and the Younger as well, promoted specifically Lutheran themes in pictorial form; and how the altarpiece in the city church of Wittenberg expresses a distinctive Lutheran aesthetic that rejects both idolatry and iconoclasm and which today can be understood in an ecumenical way. Closing out this middle section are essays that formed a book panel at the conference in Jena. Three scholars offer their comments on Bernhard Knorn’s Versöhnung und Kirche: Theologische Ansätze zur Realisierung des Friedens mit Gott in der Welt. Dennis Doyle reads the book with a focus

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on the work’s ecumenical dimensions, emphasizing especially the potential of contemporary Catholic sacramental theology. Simone Sinn draws upon her work with the Lutheran World Federation to consider how Christians can communicate their theological narratives in ways that foster both ecumenical progress and processes of reconciliation in the world. She affirms the identification of the church as an actual place of reconciliation, but questions whether Lutherans can rightly think of the church itself as a sacrament. Ralf Wüstenberg first offers an appreciative analysis of Knorn’s sacramental ecclesiology. He then raises questions concerning parallel efforts already made by Protestant theologians as well as the relevance of Knorn’s approach for non-Christians. Knorn responds to the questions raised by the three scholars. The final section contains essays that look toward the future of ecumenism. Leo Lefebure proposes a strategy to transform the history of animosity between Catholics and Protestants by realigning memories in light of problems that challenge all parties to the conflict and that call for cooperation for effective action. His essay transcends the traditional Catholic-­Protestant binary by examining various meanings of the freedom of a Christian, from Martin Luther’s proclamation of this theme to the efforts of Antonio Montesino and Bartolomé de las Casas on behalf of the indigenous peoples of the Americas, and also to the hymns of freedom of enslaved African Americans. While these memories were quite different in their original contexts, they continue to make claims on us today to work for liberation, and they have particular significance for the present time at Georgetown University as its community wrestles with its history of profiting from the enslavement and sale of African Americans. John Borelli draws upon Pope Francis to talk in a positive way about a craziness for the love of God and one another that can fuel a crazy hope in ecumenical progress. Borelli proclaims that more reason exists after 2017 to hope for success in ecumenism than at any time in 500 years. Unlike previous centennials, the fifth in 2017 of the Lutheran Reformation epitomized a commemoration for the ecumenical age. By 1999, the dialogues had realized a differentiating consensus for agreement on the doctrine of justification and as a model the future. Borelli demonstrates how hope impelled the dialogues; hope topped the themes of 2017; and hope directs five communions of churches sharing the Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification to discern its spiritual and ecclesiastical consequences for greater fellowship and communion.

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In the essay that concludes this volume, Peter Phan retrieves the excitement generated by the Second Vatican Council (1962–1965) for having instituted a twofold dialogue, dialogue among the Christian churches and dialogue between Christian churches and other religions. His essay, both historical and constructive in nature, first gives a brief overview of how the Catholic Church viewed non-Catholic churches and other religions. Phan explains Vatican II’s teaching on ecumenical unity, especially in its decree Unitatis redintegratio, as well as its teaching on the relationship of the church to non-Christian religions, especially in its declaration Nostra aetate. Finally, inspired by the papacy of Pope Francis, he suggests ways to go forward beyond the current impasse in ecumenical and interreligious dialogue. Acknowledgments  Vladimir Latinovic partnered with Gerard Mannion in the planning of the Ecclesiological Investigations Network 2017 conference in Jena upon which this volume is based. Theodore Dedon, at that time a graduate assistant to Gerard, performed many of the everyday tasks. Also helping in the planning were EIN members Mark Chapman, Dennis Doyle, Dale Irvin, Leo Lefebure, and Jason Welle. On the ground in Jena, Martin Leiner, the Director of the Jena Center for Reconciliation Studies at the Friedrich-Schiller University of Jena, his colleague, Dr. Francesco Ferrari, and the Jena Center staff aided greatly in both the planning and the execution of the conference. Before his untimely death, Gerard Mannion had collected the contributions and did the first round of editing. Theodore Dedon worked alongside Gerard during the entire project. Dennis Doyle more recently joined the editorial team.

PART I

The Meaning and Reception of Luther’s Reformation

CHAPTER 2

Open Temple and Dialogical Church: How to Fulfill the Reform of Paul and the Protestant Reformation? A Keynote Address Gerd Theissen

Paul’s doctrine of justification was the spark that initiated Luther’s Reformation. Paul aimed at an opening of Judaism for all peoples, and Luther aimed at a renewal of the Christian church. The model of Luther’s Reformation was Paul, his person, and his doctrine—even if Luther perhaps did not understand some significant aspects of Paul’s work and theology. According to many exegetes, he did not recognize the social dynamic of his preaching of justification and grace.1 Both reformers, Paul and  Compare Krister Stendahl, Paul Among Jews and Gentiles and Other Essays (London: S.C.M. Press, 1977); Parish Sanders, ed., Paul and Palestinian Judaism. A Comparison of Patterns of Religion (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1977); James D.G.  Dunn, “The New Perspective on Paul,” in: Bulletin of the John Rylands Library 65 (1983): 95–122. This new 1

G. Theissen (*) University of Heidelberg, Heidelberg, Germany © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 G. Mannion et al. (eds.), Ecumenical Perspectives Five Hundred Years After Luther’s Reformation, Pathways for Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-68360-3_2

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Luther, failed. Therefore, my thesis is: It is our task to fulfill Paul’s failing reform and to continue Luther’s unfulfilled Reformation. The presupposition is: Luther’s model and inspiration was Paul, both his person and his doctrine.2 The person of Paul was Luther’s model because Paul had resisted Peter. In Antioch Paul had criticized Peter and defended the liberty to break with traditions that separated Jews and Gentiles. Just as Paul had resisted Peter in those days, so has Luther now resisted the Pope. Luther regarded Paul’s criticism of Peter as legitimation of his criticism of the Pope. Paul’s theology was Luther’s inspiration for his theological doctrine of justification. At Antioch Paul emphasized that he basically agreed with Peter in this regard, but that he wished to implement this doctrine of justification more consistently in life. If all people are justified only by grace, the separation of Gentiles as sinners and Jews as righteous people must be wrong. Jewish commandments, separating Gentiles from Jews, are therefore no longer valid. The doctrine of justification opened the door to the Gentiles. It prevented at the same time an internal split between Gentiles and Jews in the Christian congregations. There are no Christians of first and second degree. All are equal in Christ. This doctrine of justification was the spark of the Reformation. Paul ignited it; Luther made it glow again. Luther caused a firestorm, causing also some fire damages. If we want to celebrate ecumenically the Reformation today, we have to consider on the one side these damages, but on the other side also many good ideas of the Reformation time— ideas of both Protestants and Catholics which may inspire us today. The spark of the Reformation is still alive today. Some discover this spark even in the present Pope. Of course, the message of the Reformation sounds in our times a little bit different than in Luther’s time. The message addressed to us today is: Regardless of what a human being, whether one is successful or fails in one’s life, whether one has done good or evil, regardless of whether one is rich or poor, Jew or Greek, immigrant or native, man or woman—all people are acknowledged by God. God perspective on Paul is not at all present in the “Gemeinsame Erklärung zur Rechtfertigungslehre” (Augsburg 1999); compare Gemeinsame Erklärung zur Rechtfertigungslehre, (Frankfurt aM: Lembeck, 42000). That is hard to understand: If the doctrine of justification opens the door to other human beings, it has an ecumenical dimension. 2  Victor  Stoll, Luther und Paulus. Die exegetischen und hermeneutischen Grundlagen der lutherischen Rechtfertigungslehre im Paulinismus Luthers, in Arbeiten zur Bibel und ihrer Geschichte 10 (Leipzig: Evangelische Verlaganstalt, 2002).

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requires only one thing: We must trust God in the same way that God says “YES” to us. There is no other precondition, except that we accept this divine acknowledgment as a pure gift from God. This message opposes nowadays neither a Pope, nor Catholics, but contradicts very clearly a resurgent nationalism and tendency toward autocracy in the whole world. This message of justification wants to open the door for all people in the world. The national-autocratic movements want to close it and plan to erect high walls separating nations, rich and poor, inhabitants and immigrants. This message contradicts nowadays also a commandment for optimization in our modern society in both the sphere of work and the private sphere. The basic imperative in our society is: You must produce and produce more. The basic imperative in our lifestyle is: You must develop your own EGO and develop it more. The message of justification says on the contrary: All human beings have an unconditional value in God’s eyes. This message is against mere ego-love and production for its own sake. If one understands the doctrine of justification in this way, it sounds almost like a declaration of human rights. Human rights also say that all human beings are of equal value and have inalienable rights—regardless of whether they are Europeans or Africans, Muslims or Christians. But there is a crucial difference. Human rights are valid by birth, as justification is valid by faith. We have human rights by nature, and we are justified by grace. This is illustrated by the well-known Latin formulas in which the Reformation summarized its message: sola gratia, sola fide, solus Christus. The first formula SOLA GRATIA says: “Only by grace is man justified.” This formula characterizes God’s action. The second formula SOLA FIDE says what a human being must do: One must trust God; one must believe God. But how can one learn this confidence, when so much speaks against it, suffering and injustice in this world, wars and oppression, and last but not least our own weakness, failures, and sins? Therefore, the third formula answers: SOLUS CHRISTUS. It is only through Jesus of Nazareth, through his life, his preaching, his death, and his resurrection that we learn this trust and preserve it in all crises. This is roughly how the doctrine of justification sounds in modern sermons and thoughts, while the formula SOLUS CHRISTUS is sounding today often more quietly than SOLA GRATIA and SOLA FIDE.

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Five hundred years ago the doctrine of justification sounded quite different. Perhaps you recognize some similarities: Human beings are saved from eternal hellfire, one is protected from death and the devil, eternal life is given to one if one not only believes that Jesus was sacrificed in one’s stead by God, but also was justified in one’s stead by his resurrection. There is no doubt: We must translate such a faith today. But, despite all differences, one thing is common: the spark of the Reformation is an unconditional affirmation of life in response to an unconditional “YES” of God to human life. It is a responsive affirmation of life. But the images in which this life affirmation is expressed are indeed very different: I take hell as a picture for the world where it becomes a hell, both in life and in death.3 I take the devil as a picture for the autodynamics of evil when the monotheistic faith becomes fanatical.4 I interpret the vicarious death of Jesus as a picture teaching us that we live at the expense of other lives that are dying vicariously for us.5 So viewed, these images are no longer so strange and far away. Twice this spark of the Reformation was ignited. In primitive Christianity, Paul opened up Judaism to all peoples and implemented equality within the congregations. That was a progress, but with a negative effect: Judaism was split and the Christian church separated from Judaism. As far as Paul was concerned, when it came to opening up Judaism for all peoples, he failed. In spite of this failure, however, he became the most important architect of Christianity. At the time of the Reformation, the same spark was to bring about a renewal of the church, but not as an opening of the church for other peoples. It was much more an opening up the frontier within the church between priests and laity. That was a real progress. But this progress too had a price. The one church was divided, and the internal church rule was not abolished. Rather, the good idea of common priesthood of all Christians legitimized the usurpation of power within Protestant churches by secular princes. If all Christians are priests, why should not a secular Christian prince become a church leader? Insofar as Luther intended a 3   Compare Gerd Theissen, Glaubenssätze. Ein kritischer Katechismus (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 2012 32013), no. 126, 217 on the descent to hell. 4  Gerd Theissen, Glaubenssätze, no. 124, 214–15 on the myth of Satan. 5  Gerd Theissen, Glaubenssätze, no. 111, 191–2 and no. 112, 193–4 on the vicarious death of Jesus.

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renewal of the whole church by overcoming internal church rule, he failed. But in spite of this he became one of the most important architects of Protestantism. Our question is: Will the spark of Reformation flare up a third time and inspire Christianity? We have seen that this spark wants to remove two boundaries, the boundary between in-groups and out-groups and the boundary between social strata within one and the same group. This spark wants to cross the borders between one’s own people and other nations and between those who have power in the church and the other ones. Precisely because Paul and Luther failed, both tasks are still unsolved. It is true, these limits will never completely disappear. Overcoming the borders between the peoples, between those “inside” and those “outside,” will remain a timeless problem. Likewise, the separation within one and the same community, between those “above” and those “below,” will survive. This is not only true for the church, but for the whole of society. The spark of Reformation, however, is alive wherever we do not accept these limits. We are able to shape these limits in a transparent and responsible way. We can recognize them, and we can sometimes cross them. We must not forget: All religion is a border phenomenon—it is awareness of the border between human beings and God and an awareness that human beings belong together because we all are living on the one side of this border. But religion should mean that a spark transcends all these borders. These considerations result in the structure of my contribution: The first part offers a sketch of the reform movement of Paul in the first century CE.  The second part offers some thoughts on the Reformation in the sixteenth century. The third part deals with our tasks today. I will focus on one task: How can the Christian churches open themselves to other religions and enter into a dialogue with them?

Part 1: The Spark of Reformation in Paul’s Movement—The Opening for All People A new perspective on Paul says that Luther misunderstood Paul when he came to realize that God’s salvation overcomes a bad conscience and the anxiety of damnation.6 Luther himself says that the justification of the 6   Gerd Theissen, “The New Perspective on Paul and its Limits. Psychological Considerations,” Alexander Thompson Lecture Princeton 26.2.07 in The Princeton Seminary Bulletin 27 (2007): 64–85. A fair comparison of Paul and Luther can be found in Wilfried

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sinner and this confidence had become for him the “Gateway to Paradise” and to God.7 The new perspective on Paul, on the other hand, says that the justification of the sinner was a “gate” to all other peoples. The problem for Paul was not a bad conscience, but the separatist function of the law which separates Jews and Gentiles. This social interpretation of the doctrine of justification is basically correct. After Paul has defined the justification in Romans 3:28 with the words “that a human being is righteous without the works of law, only through faith,” he asks rhetorically: “Is God the God of Jews only? Is God not also the God of the Gentiles?” (Rom 3:29). There is no doubt, therefore, that Paul’s doctrine of justification aims at opening the frontier between Jews and Gentiles. I illustrate this point by the events at Jerusalem at the end of his missionary activity.8 When Paul wrote the letter to the Romans before his journey to Jerusalem, he was afraid that he would be murdered there. Why was he afraid? As the goal of his mission, Paul defines the unification of all human beings in the worship of the one and only God. In Jerusalem his mission as a priest is to “sacrifice” Gentiles in a metaphorical sense (Rom 15:16). He thinks of the temple as the place of this “sacrifice.” Only in the temple can a sacrifice be offered. In fact, Paul had taken with him uncircumcised Gentile Christians. He was accused (according to Acts 21:28) in Jerusalem of having given one of them access to the temple against the law. Therefore, Paul was arrested. Most exegetes think that this accusation was unjustified. But it was justified, not because Paul had actually smuggled Gentiles into the temple, but because he was publicly dreaming that the temple would soon be opened for all God-fearing peoples in the whole world. The opening of the temple and of Judaism for all peoples—that was the great goal of his life! But how can the temple be opened? Paul hopes that God will intervene. He says with an OT quote that the Savior will come “from the Zion” (i.e., out of the temple)—not as we are reading in the OT “because of the temple.” Paul expects Christ to come out of the temple, that he is coming just from the place where atonement for Israel was again and again Härle, “Paulus und Luther. Ein kritischer Blick auf die ‘New Perspective,’” in Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche 103 (2006): 362–93, in Spurensuche nach Gott. Studien zur Fundamentaltheologie und Gotteslehre (Berlin: de Gruyter 2008), 202–39. 7  Martin Luther in his preface of his opera latina of 1545, Weimar Edition, 54, 185. 8  Compare Gerd Theissen and Petra v. Gemünden, Der Römerbrief. Rechenschaft eines Reformators (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2016), 311–26: “Der Traum von der Öffnung des Tempels.”

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effected. Therefore, Paul can say: Christ when he is coming out of the temple (“from the Zion”) will forgive the sins of Israel (Jer. 31:33a/Isa 27:9). Just as Paul had once converted by encountering the risen Christ and was transformed from an enemy of the Christians to their missionary, and just as his sins were forgiven, so he now hopes for a conversion of all Jews through the appearance of Christ in the inner temple district.9 Now we understand better why Paul was afraid of being murdered during this journey to Jerusalem as opposed to previous journeys: death threatened all strangers entering the inner temple district. The warning inscriptions, which have been preserved, were formulated in such a way that fanatic zealots might feel encouraged to carry out the death penalty by lynching—even threatening those people who were only dreaming of a temple open for all Gentiles. For Paul had a dream: “The abundance of the Gentiles,” including all Gentile Christians, could “enter” (Rom 11:25). With this “entering,” Paul does not only say in an abstract way that they are saved by God, but quite concretely that they are allowed to “enter” into the inner temple district. This insight says quite a lot about the relationship between Paul and Judaism. The Judaism of his time had two centers: Temple and Torah. Until his last days, Paul himself identified the temple as the place of true worship. He remained always a Jew. He did not want to leave Judaism. This fact sheds new light on his criticism of the law and on his doctrine of justification. His criticism of the law served to unite Jews and Gentiles in worship in the temple. For this reason, he had to change the conditions of admission to the people of God. He had to liberalize the law. The ecumenism of our days is comparable with Paul’s dream. I imagine Paul on his journey to Jerusalem like a Catholic priest who is on pilgrimage to Rome, hoping that the new Pope will announce that divorced Catholics will be admitted to Eucharist, and also Catholics with non-Catholics spouses, or even Protestants and people with other, comparable “deficits.” The doctrine of justification opened the doors to all peoples—specifically the doors of the Jewish temple. For Paul, however, it opened above all the 9  Compare Otfried Hofius, “Das Evangelium und Israel. Erwägungen zu Römer 9–11,” in Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche 83 (1986): 297–324, 320: “Israel kommt auf die gleiche Weise zum Glauben wie Paulus selbst! […] Paulus sieht und weiß sich als den Prototyp des dem Evangelium gegenüber verschlossenen und des von dem erwählenden Gott preisgegebenen Israel.” Editor’s translation: Israel came to believe in the same way as Paul himself. … Paul saw and knew himself as the prototype of the captive liberated by the Gospel and of the abandoned Israel elected by God.

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door to God. He once opposed the opening of Judaism to Gentiles and persecuted the Christians, legitimizing his persecution by the law. He became thus guilty—seduced by the law. After his conversion, he had to overcome within himself his demarcation from the Gentiles and find a new attitude to the law. In Romans 7 he portrays a deep conflict of an “Ego” (of an “I”) with the law—many exegetes refuse to interpret this impressive conflict as a description of a conflict within Paul. I think they are wrong. Romans 7 offers reasons to reject the accusation against Paul that he does the evil for the sake of the good. He is citing these accusations in Rom 3:8 and repeating them in a generalized form in 6:1, 6:15, and 7:7. If in a letter someone rejects accusations against oneself which one has cited before, and if one rejects them not only generally but in the first person singular, then one surely stands behind one’s utterances. The Ego of Roman 7 includes Paul. But most exegetes see this differently.10 For us this point is important: Paul failed in opening Judaism for the Gentiles. He opened only the small Christian communities for non-Jews. In this way he became the architect of the Christian church, which separated itself from Judaism. Many have continued to build this church after Paul. They have erected three “pillars”11 on which the church rests and by which it gained a certain stability to cope with all crises of history: One pillar is the CANON, a collection of Holy Scriptures. The idea of the canon is inherited from Judaism. The division into an Old and New Testament is new. Another pillar is the AUTHORITY or an institutional constitution, a combination of collegial leadership and a single chairperson, the bishop. The models have been both pagan and Jewish associations. The third pillar consists in CONFESSIONS: Theologians formulated confessions, based on faith formulas of the church. These have been, like the Nicaenum, generally accepted by ecumenical councils. Without the model 10  Compare our arguments for a biographical background of the typical “Ego” in Gerd Theissen and Petra von Gemünden, Der Römerbrief. Rechenschaft eines Reformators, 425–37; Gerd Theissen, Psychological aspects of Pauline Theology (Philadelphia: Fortress 1987), 177–265. The dominating interpretation of the “Ego” of Roman 7 as a rhetorical figure was also refuted by Will Timmins, “Romans 7 and Speech-In-Character: A Critical Evaluation of Stowers’ Hypothesis,” in: Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft 107 (2016): 54–115. 11  The three pillars were defined by Adolf von Harnack, Lehrbuch der Dogmengeschichte I.  Die Entstehung des kirchlichen Dogmas (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 31901; Darmstadt 1983), 353–425.

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of legislation in the Roman state, this development would hardly have been possible.

Bible, office, and confession constitute the three pillars of the church.

Part 2: The Spark of Reformation in Luther’s Reform and the Common Priesthood What I would now like to show is that both Paul and Luther know a social function of the doctrine of justification—of course, in different social contexts. Both also know an individual function of the doctrine of justification. But the social and the individual interpretations of the doctrine of justification are combined for each in a different way. Pauline research in the last decades has been misled by a wrong alternative.12 (1) On the Social Importance of the Lutheran Doctrine of Justification Paul and Luther both know a social function of the doctrine of justification. Paul overcame the separation between Israel and the peoples and implemented equality in the church, whereas Luther overcame the separation between priests and laity. The reform dynamics are comparable in both. Both cross social boundaries. In Luther’s thought, however, the borders to other peoples are wanting. He only knows the border with the Turks.13 What he writes about them is repulsive. It is true, modern Islamophobia and antiSemitism are something different from Luther’s fear of the Turks and the antiJudaism14 of his late years. But if we are to 12  A convincing synthesis of the traditional and the new social interpretation of Paul is James M.G. Barclay, Paul and the Gift (Grand Rapids MI/Cambridge: Eerdmans, 2015). 13  Johannes Ehmann, Luther und die Türken (Bielefeld: Luther-Verlag, 2017). 14  Thomas Kaufmann, Luthers “Judenschriften”: Ein Beitrag zu ihrer historischen Kontextualisierung (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011). According to the definition of antisemitism by “The European Parliament Working Group on Antisemitism,” Luther was an anti-Semite: “Antisemitism is a certain perception of Jews, which may be expressed as hatred toward Jews. Rhetorical and physical manifestations of antisemitism are directed toward Jewish or non-Jewish individuals and/or their property, toward Jewish community institutions and religious facilities.” http://www.antisem.eu/projects/eumc-workingdefinition-of-antisemitism/ (20.09.2017). Of course, we must differentiate between religious antijudaism and racial antisemitism. Religious antijudaism gives Jews the chance to convert; racial antisemitism gives them no chance at all. Religious antijudaism is able to differentiate between different forms of Jewish faith; racial antijudaism refuses Jews as Jews.

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deal with these dark sides of Luther in celebrating the Reformation, this is also an opportunity to deal with these dark tendencies in our days. We find in contemporary autocratic nationalism both Islamophobia and Antisemitism. Luther is no positive model for us in this regard. On the contrary, we should say very clearly: if Luther would be a pastor in a modern Lutheran church, the congregation would surely seriously consider whether they must discharge him from his church office if he would not recant in a convincing way. Now you could say, of course, that the sixteenth century was a very different time. The Christian peoples lived among themselves with few contacts to other people, fearing the Turks, who had laid siege to Vienna in 1529. Christians were threatened by them. But all the other peoples in the world were not yet in sight. We cannot therefore expect Luther to keep an eye on all peoples as did Paul. But this is not true: In 1521, Luther was confronted in Worms with Emperor Charles V Habsburg. In those days, they said the sun never set on his empire because it comprised the new colonies in America. At that time, among Spanish late scholastics, there was a tremendously important discussion concerning how to classify the natives in these new colonies.15 Are they allowed to be enslaved? Were they something like new pets? Animals? Less than humans? Or were they people like us? Must they be baptized? In the time of the Reformation, some Catholic Spanish scholastics developed ideas which belong to the prehistory of human rights. They 15  Francisco de Vitoria (ca. 1483–1546) criticized the arguments that legitimized in those days the conquering of the new world and developed a ius gentium, an international law which gave basic rights to all human beings. Compare  Daniel Deckers, Art. “Vitoria, Francisco de,” in Theologische Realenzyklopädie 35 (2003): 169–173. Bartholomeus de las Casas (1484–1566) fought after his conversion in 1514 against the enslavement of the native peoples and for the recognition of the Indios as people, who are just as capable of civilization and faith as all the others. Mission must only be carried out without violence. Compare Mariano Delgado, “Las Casas, Bartolomé de,” in Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart4 5 (2002): 80f; Willi Henkel, “Las Casas, Bartolomé de,” in Theologische Realenzyklopädie 20 (1990): 445–48. Francisco Suarez (1548–1617) derived the king’s authority not only from God, but from the people, but gave the Pope the right to depose heretical rulers. Compare Johann P. Sommerville, “Suarez, Francisco,” in Theologische Realenzyklopädie 32 (2001): 290–93; Walter Sparn, “Suárez, Francisco,” in Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart4 (2004): 1811–1813. The ideas of these Spanish late scholastics were later taken up by the protestant lawyer and theologian Hugo Grotius (1583–1645), the founder of a neutral international law that is independent of confessional traditions. Compare Christoph Strohm, “Religion und Recht in der frühen Neuzeit,” in Zeitschrift für Rechtsgeschichte 133 (2016): 283–316.

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regarded the natives as creatures of God, as we are. They all have human dignity. If we want to open up to all peoples today, we must continue this tradition. But the Protestant Reformers in the sixteenth century were miles away from this goal. If we want to remember today in an ecumenical way the Reformation, this means for me, above all, to seize the impulses of the Spanish late scholastics. We should continue their thoughts and make human rights a part of our ecclesial creeds. By the way, in Spain there was at the same time a renewal movement in which the mysticism of the late middle ages flourished: Theresa of Avila (1515–1582) and John of the Cross (1542–1591) internalized the Christian faith—in some respects like Luther, whose most important theological discoveries are rooted in the Devotio moderna—a movement shaped by mysticism.16 Mysticism has an inherent tendency to equate all human beings. It establishes the connection to God without priests and sacraments. Mysticism is alive equally in men and women. It is the foundation of the conviction of the equality of all Christians before God. (2) The Individual Meaning of the Lutheran Doctrine of Justification I should underline that both Luther and Paul know not only a social function of the doctrine of justification (i.e., the overcoming of the separation of Israel and the peoples, or of priests and laity), but also an individual function. Paul sees that, when one opens oneself for others, one has to struggle with contradicting tendencies within oneself and overcome the old Adam and his mistrust against strangers. Paul also personally had to overcome the fundamentalist fanaticism of his youth: a mistrust of the universal God. Luther had to overcome a distrust of a God who demands too much by his commandments: He could not love him. Paul has in my view recognized that if we open ourselves to other people, we must overcome obstacles within ourselves. We all tend to ascribe to strangers all the evil we do not like—much more than to ascribe it to people with whom we are familiar. If one wants to open oneself to others, one must discipline oneself and risk a conflict within oneself. In 1 Cor 9, Paul presents himself as a missionary who does everything in order to win all people for the gospel. He has transformed his former aversion against strangers into a boundless looking for them: 16  Volker Leppin, Die fremde Reformation. Luthers mystische Wurzeln (München: Beck, 42016).

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To the Jews I have become a Jew that I may win the Jews. To those who are under the law, I have become like one under the law—… I have become everything to all, So that I can save some. (1 Cor 9:20–23)

This openness, however, is connected with a great internal psychic pressure. Paul describes this internal conflict in the image of the “agon” or a public race in the stadion. He brings this image immediately afterward in 1 Cor. 9: In order to win the race on the race track, he struggles not only against others, but in the first place against himself. Paul writes: “I conquer my body, and tame him, lest I should preach unto others, and be reprobate myself” (1 Cor 9:27). What he says about himself in this regard, Paul develops in the letter to the Romans as a general problem. More clearly than in all other letters, Paul says in Romans that the Gospel means that all human beings have access to salvation. And more clearly than in all other letters, he describes the conflict of individuals within themselves in Chap. 7. It is the conflict of a person with a self who does exactly the opposite of what one really wants. In my opinion, Paul interprets here a conflict that he has personally experienced. He became the persecutor of the Christians with the intention of fulfilling the will of God. He has practiced hate in the name of a God whose will is love. He contradicts himself.17 We had seen that in early Christianity, the Old church gained an inner stability through canon, office, and confession. The Reformation has sought to renew all three pillars, sometimes with a great one-sidedness, which we should correct today: SCRIPTURE became the highest norm. Everyone could learn from Scripture what is valid and true. Everyone was therefore able to criticize the church with help of the Scripture. However, Scripture is constructive only in combination with tradition, experience, and reason. I consider this so-called “methodist” quadrilateral—found in John Wesley’s writings—to be fundamental for all theology. Luther, too, appealed to these four authorities before Emperor Charles V at Worms: on Scripture, on reason, and on his conscience (this I would classify as experience)—and he did not absolutely refuse the tradition. AUTHORITY was renewed as the “common priesthood”: all human beings are equal before God. Luther, however, applied this very good prin17  I am quite aware that most exegetes refuse this interpretation. My arguments against the refusal of a biographic background of Rom 7 are summarized in Gerd Theissen and Petra v. Gemünden, Der Römerbrief. Rechenschaft eines Reformators, 425–37.

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ciple of common priesthood in a wrong way. He legitimized by this principle that secular princes became leaders of the church. Later, when these princes were no longer rulers of territories, but nations, Protestantism was not at all immune to the heresy of religious autocratic nationalism (especially in Germany). The reformed wing of the Reformation corrected this embarrassing birth defect of Protestantism. A church ruled by Presbyters and Synods corresponds much more to the New Testament than a church ruled by secular princes. The church must not be handed over to territorial and regional power structures. Here, Protestantism must acknowledge that global and universal Catholicism has preserved a moment of ecclesial truth. For me, an ecumenical council comprising all churches would be the right answer to the challenges of globalization in our world. The old CREED formulas were not abolished in the Protestant churches, but were updated in many confessional writings and catechisms. God can only be grasped in a plurality of thoughts. A plurality of creeds is unavoidable. The big problem in the pluralism of our days are the boundaries: where must we clearly say no? What must we tolerate? To this question I make in my last part a suggestion.

Part 3: The Spark of the Reformation and the Dream of a Dialogical Church Twice the Reformation spark was ignited. Will it also be sparked for a third time today? What reforms are necessary today to renew this spark? What must we do to secure equality within the church and an openness to all people and religions in the world, common priesthood, and a dialogical church? With regard to equality I underline the importance of mysticism. According to my view the Catholic church suffers from a hierarchical illness. But where there is too much hierarchy there is often a counterbalance. And that is why mysticism in a broad sense embracing many forms of religious experience18 survived much more in Catholic traditions than 18  Compare my ideas on religious experience in Gerd Theissen, Erleben und Verhalten der ersten Christen (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus 2007), 111–250; Id., “Paulus und die Mystik. Der eine und einzige Gott und die Transformation des Menschen,” Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche 110 (2013): 263–290; Id., “Spuren Gottes in der religiösen Erfahrung. Ein philosophischer Versuch,” in Polyphones Verstehen. Entwürfe zur Bibelhermeneutik, Beiträge zum Verstehen der Bibel, Band 23 (Münster: LIT Verlag, 2014 22015), 459–487; Id., “Polyphone Bibelhermeneutik und protestantische Spiritualität. Über kontemplatives

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in Protestantism. The great mystic of my homeland, the Lower Rhine, was Gerhard Tersteegen (1697–1769). He represents a reformed pietism. He translated the writings of Catholic mystics, including Theresa of Avila. In this tradition ecclesial hierarchies are not at all important. Regarding the dialogical church and Paul’s dream of an open temple and an open church, both Paul and Luther leave us a task that was already apparent with the Spanish late scholastics. They already had experienced the beginnings of globalization with the discovery of America. Today we live in a world where we are connected globally; we must share all things, regardless of whether they are good or evil. We must above all enter into a dialogue with all religions in a global world without losing our identity as Christians. I’ll make three suggestions concerning how we could cope with this challenge. They refer again to the three pillars of the church, through which the Old church gained stability and which were renewed and further developed in the Reformation: the Bible, the office, and the creed. (1) The Project of an Interreligious Dialogic Bible We should create an interreligious Dialogical Bible with parallel and opposing texts from other religions.19 It will probably only include a selection of Bible texts. In view of the great importance of “Scripture,” especially in Protestantism, this would be a visible sign of a positive appreciation of other religions in the very center of protestant spirituality. I hope that such a Dialogical Bible will increase the appeal of the Bible among Christians. At the moment there is a great Bible fatigue, except among some pious evangelicals, some prophetic groups with social criticism, and a minority among Catholics. “Biblical” became almost a bad word in the discourses of progressive theologians. For an illustration of such a dialogical Bible I give an example: A dialogical Bible could place beside Second Isaiah 44:6:

und transformatives Verstehen,” in W. Zager, ed., Liberale Frömmigkeit? Spiritualität in der säkularen und multireligiösen Gesellschaft (Leipzig: Evangelische Verlaganstalt, 2015), 77–111. 19   Compare Gerd Theissen, “Bibelhermeneutik als Religionshermeneutik. Der vierdimensionale Sinn der Bibel,” in EvTh 72 (2012):  291–306, ibid., 305. U.  Luz, Theologische Hermeneutik des Neuen Testaments (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag 2014), 558, has supported this suggestion.

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Thus said the Lord, the king of Israel, And his Redeemer, the Lord of hosts, “I am the first and I am the last, And there is no God beside me.”

Surah 112 from the Qur’an: Say: He is God, a single one, God of impenetrability. He is not begotten And He is not begotten, And no one is equal to him.

In addition, this Dialogical Bible should also contain texts that contrast the Christ mysticism of Paul and John those that express a Buddhist mysticism, which witnesses not a mysticism of encounter, but of a dissolution and extinction of the ego. (2) The Project of an Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogical Authority Structure Cooperation between churches and religions depends on institutional arrangements. Our church constitution should make it possible to include or elect representatives of other Christian denominations in our committees. In our preaching plans, the exchange of preachers from other denominations (at least six times a year) should also become the rule. This is possible without a reform of our church laws. The even greater task is to involve representatives of other religions in our institutions. Guest preachers from other religions should be no problem. At least Synods should not meet without representatives of other religions. Everything that we advise and decide must be said in their presence in a way that they can respect, even when they disagree. The rules for cooperation with them and the criteria for their appointment or election will be different from those for members of other Christian confessions. But in principle it should be possible. The key problem is where to draw clear boundaries. These limits cannot be certain theological ideas that we prefer exclusively. Our thoughts about God will always be different. Here, a special variety of tolerance is necessary. The limits must be drawn in ethics. My third proposal tries to draw such boundaries.

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(3) The Project of a Christian Confession of Human Rights My suggestion is that we should anchor human rights in the churches as a confession like other creeds. The Second Vatican Council accepted and confirmed human rights after they had been rejected a hundred years before by Rome in the Syllabus Errorum (1864). Protestantism has converted to them  and accepted them, after (German) Protestantism went astray in a nationalistic heresy above all in the time of National Socialism. Human rights as a confession may refer to God as does the Declaration of Independence of 1776.20 Agnostics can understand this reference to God in the sense of a theologia negativa: many agnostics do not want to build the basic values of our coexistence on decisions which have been made by problematic human institutions. They would prefer to base them on something unknown, something which escapes human arbitrariness. To speak of God is for them the confession that we have no visible ultimate foundation for our basic moral beliefs. They refer to the unknown God as a symbol of the unknown ultimate ground of our values. I am working on such a confession. The following text is provisional. We confess before God, That all human beings are created equal. Human beings have In all peoples and cultures equal rights All are an image of God. All have the right to have rights, The RIGHT TO LIVE, The RIGHT TO FREEDOM, The RIGHT TO PARTICIPATE in all things, Which are good for us.

20  The American Declaration of Independence of 1776 refers at the beginning to God: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights. That among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” The Virginia Bill of Rights (1776), written a couple of months before, speaks instead of the God of nature: “All men are by nature equally free and independent, and have certain inherent rights.” This was in those days no contradiction: God was the creator of nature and its laws. For the relationship between human rights, religion, and reason, compare Heiner Bielefeldt, Philosophie der Menschenrechte. Grundlagen eines weltweiten Freiheitsethos (Darmstadt: Wiss. Buchgesellschaft, 1998).

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Everyone has a RIGHT TO LIVE their life. Their dignity is holy, Their life inviolable. No one should be injured, No one tortured, No one sentenced to death. Life is a human right. Everyone has a RIGHT TO FREEDOM. No one should be imprisoned without a judge’s sentence. All have a right to fair trial, A right to privacy and property. All may go wherever they want. Everyone may choose their profession, Everyone may say their opinion, Everyone may live their religion, Or join another religion Or become free of all religions. The liberty of science is a human right. All people have a RIGHT TO PARTICIPATE in our life. Everyone is allowed to gather With whomever one wants. We all are obliged to support the hungry ones To care for ill people, To save refugees, Disabled people must participate fully Children must be cared for. Education is a human right. If human rights are violated, We must obey God more than human beings.21 If human rights are crucified, We will hope, That they resurrect In peace, freedom, and justice For the preservation of creation. God help us to realize human rights. Amen.

 See Acts 5:29; also 4:19.

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This human rights confession is by no means a substitute for the traditional creeds but a precondition and basis for an opening of the churches for other religions and confessions: when we work together with others and even grant rights to them, we have to say clearly what we expect. Such a confession is an outward and inward message. It cannot be misused in a way that justifies any form of oppression simply for the sake of working together. Such a human rights confession confines the space within which plural religious confessions can unfold. These religious confessions have to be reformulated again and again—also in creeds and catechisms. I have tried to write such a catechism which is dialogically open.22 The decisive thing about this catechism is that it does not formulate dogmas, but meditations that give the impetus for reflection. We should understand our dogmas as religious poetry that opens up a polyphony of faith. But this is a large field. Let us summarize: the Reformation spark is the message of justification. It was ignited twice: in primitive Christianity and in the time of the Reformation. Paul opened borders between Jews and Gentiles and implemented equality within the church. Luther abolished the boundaries between priests and laity. If the spark of the Reformation is to reignite in our present times, it has to overcome both boundaries. The most consequential manner of overcoming the borders between priests and laity is through mysticism. A coherent answer to globalization is the utopia of a “dialogical church”—a church open to dialogue with other religions and convictions, but also for dialogue among all its own members. Such a dialogue needs rules and limits. Human rights must include both the minimal rules of an ecumenical or interreligious dialogue and the necessary border marks for an open Christian church.

 Gerd Theissen, Glaubenssätze.

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CHAPTER 3

Martin Luther Between His Message and the Celebration of His Fifth Centenary Peter Neuner

Some Impressions of the Luther Festivities in Germany Let us start with some observations from Luther’s own country. In Germany, Luther today seems to be omnipresent. Close to one million Playmobil toys of the famous reformer have been sold. In this respect, Luther has surpassed all the celebrities of cinema and sports; he is a world champion. One finds Luther posters inviting people to religious services and to conferences of rather different institutions from parishes to universities and academies. Interest in Luther and the consequences of his Reformation transcends the religious realm. The Lutheran churches in Germany have arranged a Luther pilgrimage that leads to the most important places of his life, in spite of the fact that the reformer was rather critical of pilgrimages. Luther serves well for tourism, and the political

P. Neuner (*) Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität München, Munich, Germany e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 G. Mannion et al. (eds.), Ecumenical Perspectives Five Hundred Years After Luther’s Reformation, Pathways for Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-68360-3_3

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authorities use him to promote the economy, notwithstanding the fact that the region where Luther lived is one of the most secularised regions in Europe. Even agnostic mayors and politicians are eager to attract visitors from all over the world. We have Luther-Wine, Luther-Spirits, and Luther-Beer—naturally with fortified alcohol. We find Luther pictures on pots, plates, T-shirts, and Luther-Games. Let me continue with what my publisher called the “Tsunami of Luther-­ books.” Very familiar are cookbooks. We also have Luther comics. Widespread are publications with humorous or rude sentences by him. Of course, there are also very serious publications: biographies, and excellent historical investigations of his time and the social and political environment. The theological publications on Luther are a small minority. At my recent visit to Wittenberg, I was surprised that the majority of the exhibitions, which were arranged by the city together with the Protestant churches in Germany, first of all show the consequences of the Reformation: Luther and modern society, Luther and modern art, Luther and globalisation, Luther and tolerance, Luther and democratic order. What I actually missed was the man Luther himself and his message. Certainly, the Reformation has important implications for our modern world as a whole. Our socio-political order and our understanding of the world are strongly influenced by it. These consequences, however, were not on Luther’s mind. In his excellent biography, Martin Luther. Rebell in einer Zeit des Umbruchs,1 Heinz Schilling dubbed such consequences as Luther’s step-children or even as illegitimate children of the Reformation. The common memory is more focused on these effects for today than on Luther himself, that is, on the convictions to which he was ready to devote his life. Of course, it is necessary to investigate the influence of the Reformation on the modern world. Luther initiated developments far beyond the Christian message and the religious realm. Nevertheless, we have to ask seriously: what should we celebrate 500 years after the Reformation—in Germany and around the world?

1  Heinz Schilling, Martin Luther. Rebell in einer Zeit des Umbruchs (München: Beck C.H. 2014).

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A Variety of Images of Luther People who make history generate posthumous biographies, where they may manifest rather different pictures. This fact is especially true in the case of Martin Luther. The images of Luther that have emerged during the past 500 years show more about the religious and the philosophical trends of a given time than about the reformer of Wittenberg.2 Thus, to us, Luther is not only a historic person but also a product of interested memory. He has become a symbolic figure. But a symbol of what? All the different interpretations of Luther claim to have discovered the true Luther, to be faithful to his genuine message and to have liberated him from the grasp of wrong interpretations. They tried to set him free of the limits of his time and his cultural presuppositions. The history of the Luther-reception is a history of endeavours to rediscover him outside the vicissitudes of time and to present him for each new era. Already in Luther’s lifetime, there were tensions between Luther and his followers. Philip Melanchthon was faithful to him, but he also admired Erasmus and was eager not to underestimate human possibilities in the process of justification. Melanchthon did not regard humans as purely passive, as they seem in Luther’s controversy with Erasmus on the free will in his famous work, De servo arbitrio (1525). After Luther’s death, the tensions among Lutherans became more acute. On the one hand, there were the Philippists, the party of Melanchthon, who tried to combine Luther’s message with the challenges of humanism and thereby develop Luther’s concept further. On the other side, there were the “Gnesio-Lutherans,” who were strictly orientated towards Luther’s writings and regarded them as compulsory and unchangeable. The controversies passed through different stages: the Antinomian, the Osiandrian, the Synergism Controversy, and the debates on Adiaphorism and Majorism. Besides the inner-Lutheran controversies, we find differences between the Lutheran and the Swiss Reformation on the understanding of the Lord’s Supper and the concept of predestination. The picture of the reformer became multi-coloured, pluroform, and even contradictory. In the first decades after Luther’s death, the Gnesio-Lutherans prevailed. The Formula Concordiae (1580) is the result, even if it tried to 2  For a more extensive discussion of this point, see Peter Neuner, Martin Luthers Reformation. Eine katholische Würdigung (Freiburg-Basel-Wien: Herder, 2017).

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unite the different groups. There arose a Lutheran orthodoxy based on Luther’s writings. The reformer was regarded as the timeless prophet of the Christian message. The reception of Luther was concentrated on his written works, which appeared almost as the infallible truth. Church historians even speak of a Protestant scholasticism. Luther had rediscovered the Bible. Via his translation, he had opened the Holy Scripture to everyone, especially to enormous numbers of the laity. He had liberated theology from the dominance of philosophy and from human traditions that had alienated the Church from the Word of the Lord. In Luther’s message, Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas were no longer the masters who dominated the understanding of God’s revelation. Luther’s writings were fundamental to Lutheran Orthodoxy. This picture of Luther was predominant in the first centenary of the posting of his theses. In 1617, the University of Wittenberg celebrated the memory of this event by an academic festival.3 Actually, it became a celebration of the Reformation in all Protestant regions as well as in the entire society. Since 1617, the 31st of October became Reformation Day, in spite of the fact that other events were more important for the establishment of Protestantism. These centenaries of Reformation Day are quite relevant in an overview on the images of Luther during the five centuries. In 1717, in the context of Pietism, Luther was praised as the religious genius who had so concentrated Christian religion as to make it an immediate experience of Jesus. The search for an objective supernatural truth was replaced by individual experience, and thus Luther was regarded as the forerunner of a personal piety. Luther’s writings were not so much in the focus as his individual religious sentiment. Even the exponents of an enthusiastic Reformation and the radical reformers received a new estimation and were regarded as examples for Christians,4 notwithstanding the fact that Luther had rejected them as heretics and had fought bitter controversies with them. In 1817, within the philosophy of the Enlightenment, Luther was regarded as the bringer of the light of reason, the liberator from the

3  See Thomas Kaufmann, “Reformationsgedenken in der Frühen Neuzeit,” Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche 107 (2010): 285–324. 4  Gottfreid Arnold, Unparteiische Kirchen- und Ketzer-Historie von Anfang des Neuen Testaments bis auf das Jahr Jesu Christi 1688 (Frankfurt am Main: Bey Thomas Fritschens sel. Erben, 1699/1700).

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darkness and of the superstition of medieval times and of the papal slavery.5 One realised that his teachings included some remnants of medieval religiosity. Now, these residuals should be overcome, and thus the Reformation would find its fulfilment. The criterion of what has to be conserved and what has to be deleted was according to reason. The Enlightenment often referred to Luther, not usually to his writings but rather to his revolutionary actions. It celebrated Luther as the guardian angel of the liberty of reason and the conscience and the exemplar of a de-clericalised world. Ironically, this striving for freedom was also directed against the authority of the Bible and the authority of Luther himself. According to Lessing, the struggle for tolerance and freedom is the genuine consequence of Luther’s Reformation. In his victory over the pope, the monk of Wittenberg had given an example, which one has now to apply also to Luther’s own work. One is faithful to Luther if one struggles against every rigid religious system, against the letter of the Bible, but also against Lutheran Orthodoxy, its confessions, and its creeds. Lessing indirectly addressed Luther: “Who will redeem us from the unacceptable yoke of the letter! Who at last will bring us the Christendom that you (Luther) would teach us today, which Christ himself would teach us!”6 In Hegel’s philosophy of history, the Reformation is the starting point of the modern age. Modernity is characterised by the search for freedom, which, according to Hegel, had its breakthrough in Luther’s work. He saw in the Reformation not only a limited historical event, but also the starting point of a new era with consequences in all fields of individual, social, and political life. The church historian Adolph von Harnack put it at the starting point: “The era of modernity began with Luther’s reformation. It started October 31st, 1517 with the bangs of the hammer at the Schlosskirche in Wittenberg.”7 The Enlightenment was not very much interested in Luther’s writings and his message, but rather in the consequences of them. Reformation embraces life as a whole; it is no longer restricted to the religious sphere. This approach to Luther remains relevant even today. Thus, in 1817, everybody was invited to celebrate the third centenary of the Reformation. Luther had become a figure of the whole society, 5  K.-H. zur Mühlen, in A.  Beutel ed., Luther Handbuch (Tübingen: Mohr Siebrek, 2005), 462–88. 6  Ibid., 476. 7  Adolf von Harnack, Erforschtes und Erlebtes (Giessen: Töpelmann, 1923), 110.

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especially in Germany; he had transcended the Lutheran Church. The Reformation was celebrated by the citizens as the members of the society, not only by Lutherans. Or, should we say, Luther had left the Church which had derived its name from him? Everybody, Jews, Catholics, Swiss-­ Reformed Protestants, and the few agnostics of the time were welcomed to the celebrations of the beginning of the new age. They gathered in the jubilee of 300 years of freedom, tolerance, and modernity. One was convinced the modern age would be the era of progress towards universal peace and happiness, and Luther had given the starting shot to it. For the relation between Christian churches, Hegel’s approach was crucial. Protestantism appeared as the Church of the modern age, the Church of progress, of freedom, and individuality. On the other hand, Catholicism was regarded as the Church of authority and obscurity, the religion of the past. Hegel described the progress of history by the word aufheben. It is difficult to translate it adequately; the equivalent in philosophical language is “to sublate.” The term has three implications: first, it indicates to preserve and to retain something. Second, it indicates to suspend and remove something. And a third meaning of “sublate” is to elevate something, to raise it to a higher level. Hegel applied these implications to the relation between Catholicism and Protestantism. Protestantism preserves what is positive in the traditional Christian message. It is faithful to the early Church and its message on Trinity and Christology as formulated in the ancient creeds and confessions. Protestantism is not a new Church; its origin is not in the sixteenth century; it is the genuine Apostolic Church. At the same time, Protestantism liberates the message from all the human traditions. It removes all misuses. In the traditional Church, the spiritual and mundane power of the popes and bishops was exaggerated; the clergy acted as mediators between God and the faithful as they proclaimed an authority in the interpretation of the Bible. These misuses Protestantism has removed. Luther had translated the Bible. Thus, all could read and understand the Word of the Lord; they did not need an official interpretation. Not only priests, but also all laypersons had direct access to God. Thus the third meaning of “sublate”: Protestantism elevates Christianity to a higher level. The Christian doctrine and the Church are now realised within the context of freedom, personality, and individual decision. According to Hegel, in the Protestant Church the Spirit has found a new and higher stage of its self-realisation; the history of religion has reached its goal in the Protestant Church. Here, all aspirations of religious life are fulfilled.

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This interpretation of history regards Catholicism as an outdated and medieval form of religion. This image of the Roman Church was rather influential and persistent. Today in Germany the term “Church of freedom” is used frequently as a self-definition of Protestantism in contrast to the Catholic Church. It implies that Catholicism is dominated by law and the obligation to obedience, that freedom is not a Catholic feature. In fact, Hegel’s interpretation of history generated in Protestant circles a widespread feeling of superiority. As a Catholic theologian, I have to admit, that this concept is not without basis when one considers how Protestant pastors received their education in German universities. They were confronted with the challenges of contemporary philosophy and science, whereas future Catholic priests mostly studied in episcopal seminaries that often were not in touch with the problems of the times. Furthermore, Catholics are remembered for the periods in the recent history of the Church during which all efforts to open the Church to the developments of modern times were denounced as “Modernism.” Thomas O’Meara’s book, A Theologian’s Journey,8 suggests that the situation in Catholic America was not totally different from the European one. Until the Second Vatican Council, Catholicism had its classical period in medieval times, not in the modern age, and especially not in the present. The trajectory of Hegel’s interpretation of the history of Christian religion and the Protestant feeling of superiority could be supported by a number of papal decrees and decisions of the Catholic hierarchy.9 During the nineteenth century, we also find interpretations of Luther and his Reformation very different from the approach of the Enlightenment. Ludwig Feuerbach saw Luther as the forerunner of an atheistic philosophy; Karl Marx applauded him as the prototype of the proletarian revolution. Nevertheless, Luther was criticised for his words in the Peasant’s War (1525) and especially about the Jews. We also find a re-evaluation of the genuine Luther and his message. Most important was Claus Harms (1778–1855), who in 1817 republished Luther’s 95 theses of 1517 and added 95 theses of his own. Here he raised his protest against the union between Lutherans and Calvinists in Germany. Such a union would abandon Luther’s message of justification.  Thomas F. O’Meara, A Theologian’s Journey (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 2002).  See Peter Neuner, Der Streit um den katholischen Modernismus (Frankfurt-Leipzig: Verlag der Weltreligionen, 2009). 8 9

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The celebrations in the twentieth century were overshadowed by World War I, and Luther appeared as the hero of nationalism. Already in 1914— at the beginning of the war—some of the leading Protestant theologians had signed the manifesto of the 93 German scholars which declared the war against France as necessary for the German civilisation. In 1917, Prussian authorities praised Luther as the true German, as a shining example to the soldiers in the trenches and killing fields in France. As the humble monk had resisted the Roman pope and the Spanish-speaking Emperor Charles V, so the German soldiers should resist the enemy and they ultimately would achieve victory. We know that history went differently. On the other side, there were Protestant theologians who emphasised that Luther belonged to all humankind, not to Germany alone. In spite of the fact that Catholics were rather marginalised by the Protestant emperor and his government in Berlin, they widely shared the nationalist sentiment, even if they were not attracted by the reformer. These different opinions led to the so-called Luther-Renaissance. It was initiated especially by Karl Holl (1866–1926), a professor of Church History in Berlin. Already in 1883, at the 400th anniversary of Luther’s birthday, the Weimar Edition of his writings had started.10 Only since the beginning of twentieth century can we speak of a scientific research work on Luther employing a historic and systematic approach. In its beginning, the Luther-Renaissance was strongly anti-Catholic, but one has to keep in mind that the Catholic Church in this period followed a heavy papalist path. In 1870, the dogmas on papal primacy and infallibility were declared, and, in the first decades of the twentieth century, Roman anti-modernism was decidedly anti-Protestant. During the following decades in the twentieth century, one can find very confusing pictures of Luther. At the occasion of Luther’s 450 birthday in 1933, the Nazi regime—immediately after its takeover—celebrated a German Luther-Day, on which the Nazi-ideology was praised as the reawakening of Luther’s spirit. Especially Luther’s anti-Jewish statements would be used to justify Nazism. Fifty years later, in 1983, at his 500th anniversary, the communist “German Democratic Republic” regarded the reformer as forerunner of the proletarian revolution, in spite of the fact that less than ten years earlier they had rejected Luther strongly as enemy

10  The publication of the Weimarer Ausgabe could finally be completed in 2009  in 127 volumes.

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of the exploited farmers and servant of the princes in the Peasant’s War of 1525. Our overview on the posthumous history of Luther shows us a wide variety of pictures. This variety goes throughout the centuries, but also in every given time, there are very contrary interpretations. However, one feature remained unchanged: Luther was always regarded as the enemy of the pope. Protestants praised him as the founder of the Church in contrast to the Roman Church. The breaking away from Rome, from hierarchy, and from the pope appeared as his genuine vocation, the centre of his work and his legacy. Thus, the refusal of papal demands appeared almost as the essence of the Lutheran Church. What was anti-papal seemed to be truly Protestant.

Pictures of Luther Within the Catholic Church Catholic theology traditionally saw Luther as the false monk who had split the Church and destroyed its unity. His work was reduced to a break from the perennial Church and its tradition as well as the consequence of the abandonment of the apostolic origin. Since apostolicity belongs to the very essence of the Church, Lutheran congregations were—according to this position—not regarded as the Church of Christ, not based on Christ and the apostles, but as the work of Luther. Luther appeared as a misfortune to Christianity, to the European society, and to humankind in general. This picture of Luther was introduced by Johannes Cochläus. His book, Commentaria de actis et scriptis Martini Lutheri, was published in 1549, three years after Luther’s death. Cochläus denounced Luther with all evils and wickedness and claimed that his life had been full of betrayal and falsehood. His teaching appeared as a combination of all the heresies of history. He must have been possessed by the devil, as he himself had regarded the papacy as the devil’s invention. Thus, when Luther died, one could smell the sulphur of hell as the bystanders fell ill. Cochläus’ book became the main source of information on Luther within Catholic theology. Luther’s writings were listed on the index, so Cochläus almost had a monopoly on information. Thus the cliché of the false monk, the founder of a new Church in contrast to the Church of the apostles, the one who brought immense pain to Europe and to the whole of humankind, persisted for centuries within the Catholic world. Remote effects of it could

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still be found not only in the centre of the twentieth century in Catholic Church history, but also in systematic investigations on the redemption.11 One important example: the young Ignaz von Döllinger, the famous church historian at the University of Munich, tried to demonstrate in his three-volume work, Die Reformation,12 that Luther’s insistence on faith alone, his concept of sola fide, and his critique of good deeds were the magnet that attracted people to Protestantism. They were eager to learn that they do not have to perform good works and thus they could remain in their wickedness, because sin is the material on which God’s grace is effective. As a consequence—according to the young Döllinger—the Reformation led to a breakdown of morality and human decency. This concept of social decay survived Döllinger’s lifetime, in spite of the fact that in his later publications he completely changed his view on Luther the reformer. By that time, however, Döllinger had been excommunicated and his publications were without influence in the Catholic world. Quite similarly, Heinrich Denifle, in his work Luther und Luthertum in ihrer ersten Entwicklung,13 even taught that the reformer had invented his message on justification only with the intention of vindicating his own immoral life. That was the predominant Catholic view on Luther about the beginning of twentieth century. In the first half of the last century there began among Catholic scholars a more adequate and fair evaluation of the monk and professor of Wittenberg. One can notice hesitant signs of a new approach to the Reformation. Nevertheless, Sebastian Merkle (1862–1945) had problems with his bishop when he wrote: “The concept, that he is the best Catholic who performs the heaviest insults on Luther, would be an insult against historical fairness and Christian truth.”14 The breakthrough came with the work of Joseph Lortz: Die Reformation in Deutschland.15 Lortz considered Luther as a religious person who took his existence as a Christian and 11  Adolf Herte, Das katholische Lutherbild im Bann der Lutherkommentare des Cochläus, 3 vols. (Münster: Aschendorff, 1943). 12  I.v.Döllinger, Die Reformation, ihre innere Entwicklung und ihre Wirkungen im Umfange des Lutherischen Bekenntnisses, 3 vols. (Frankfurt am Main: Minerva, 1962 [1846–1848]). 13  H. Denifle, Luther und Luthertum in ihrer ersten Entwicklung, 2 vols. (Mainz: Kirchheim & Co., 1904/1909). 14  S. Merkle, “Gutes an Luther und Übles an seinen Tadlern,” in A.v.Martin (ed.), Luther in ökumenischer Sicht (Stuttgart: Fr. Frommanns Verlag, 1929), 19. 15  J.  Lortz, Die Reformation in Deutschland, 2 vols. (Freiburg: Herder, 1939, 2nd ed. 1962).

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as a monk very seriously. The experience of his own sin and the overwhelming grievances and wrongs in the Church of his time caused him pangs of conscience and led to his concentration on the biblical message, which resulted in the Reformation. Lortz attributed a large part of the responsibility of the splitting of the Church not to Luther but to the official Church in the late Middle Ages. He interpreted Luther’s theological concepts within the tradition of Nominalism, devotio moderna, and the mysticism of Bernard of Clairvaux and Johann Tauler. Obviously heretical positions in Johann Tetzel’s proclamation of indulgencies evoked his protest. As professor of the Holy Scripture, Luther had taken an oath to be faithful to the Bible, and so he felt obliged to oppose Tetzel. Actually, many of the abuses he criticised had already been rejected by the Council of Trent. According to Joseph Lortz, Luther’s protest was directed at positions that were not in accordance with the genuine Catholic faith. In the words of Lortz: “Luther fought a Catholicism, which actually was not catholic.”16 In 1939 this was a courageous sentence, even if it was well hidden somewhere within the two volumes of Lortz’ work. It is reported that Pope Pius XII was angry about the book, and that he prevented translations and the publication of a second edition. Finally, this second edition could appear in 1962, at the time of Vatican II. It seemed to be the fulfilment of Lortz’ approach when Erwin Iserloh, a former student of Lortz, published the thesis that the fixing of the 95 theses on indulgences was not performed by Luther with nails and hammer, but—if it happened at all—by the concierge of the university. The door of the Schlosskirche in Wittenberg was used as its billboard. Without Luther’s intention and even without his knowledge, the theses were printed and widely distributed. Actually, Luther became the forerunner of a movement, which he had not intended, but to which he could not deny its right. Without intending it, he became a reformer. In spite of this new approach to Luther, the school of Joseph Lortz criticised Luther because of what they called his “reformation individualism.” Luther’s initial question, “How can I find a merciful God” starts with the scruples of an individual monk. In Catholic tradition, it was the Church, its message, its sacraments, which were the subject of Christian life. To be a Christian meant to be a co-Christian, a co-believer within the holy Church. In Luther’s concept, the subject of religion is the individual, one who is no longer integrated within the communio sanctorum. One  Vol. I, 176.

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experiences forlornness and trembles in the face of the Lord and divine justice. In this interpretation, the Protestant tradition is not able to establish a genuine ecclesiology. Lutheran belief is individualistic, and it is unable to find access to the idea of a community of the faithful. It cannot practise a veneration of saints or accept concrete structures of the Church. As a result, the ministry of bishops and priests disappeared in the Lutheran tradition. This individualistic approach is enhanced by Luther’s translation of the Bible. Now everyone supposedly can read the Holy Scripture and correctly understand the message of the Lord. There is no need of an official interpretation. This freedom disenfranchises the magisterium, the teaching office of the pope and the bishops. Lutheran Christianity may be characterised by freedom, but the price of this freedom is the loss of the Church and the security it can offer. This critique of Luther is rather widespread, even within the Catholic theology of today. I think one can find it also in the writings of Joseph Ratzinger, Pope Benedict XVI.17 I am not convinced by this argument.18 Within Luther’s message, open access to the Bible and its personal reading does not initiate an individualistic approach. To him, there is nothing more true and objective than the Word of God. Everyone can understand it correctly; the Bible is clear, it is sui ipsius interpres, it interprets itself. The Word of God must be preached within the liturgy of the Church, and here it reveals Jesus Christ and his redemption. Perhaps the thesis of subjectivism can be rightly applied to some traditions in the Protestant Enlightenment. In Luther’s message, I regard the conviction of an objective and normative revelation as much stronger than any supposedly individualistic tendencies. In spite of these inner-Catholic discussions, the positive picture of Luther, which Lortz had inaugurated, was adopted also by Vatican officials. It was already in 1972 that Cardinal Willebrands, then President of the Papal Secretariat for Promoting Christian Unity, said in his address to the Lutheran World Federation in Evian: “Who could deny, that Martin Luther was a deeply religious person, that he earnestly and honestly 17  A clear statement by Joseph Ratzinger regarding Luther, individualism, and the loss of the Church can be found in The Ratzinger Report: An Exclusive Interview on the State of the Church, with Vittorio Messori, translated by Salvator Attanasio and Graham Harrison (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1985), 156–8. See also Joseph Ratzinger, Church, Ecumenism, and Politics, translated by Michael Miller et  al. (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2008 [1987]), 100–14. 18  In this discussion I follow O.  H. Pesch, Hinführung zu Luther (Mainz: Matthias Grunewald Verlag, 1982).

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investigated the message of the Gospel? … He may be our common teacher, that God is always the Lord and that our human answer has always to be an absolute confidence and the adoration of God.”19 Luther our common teacher! This attribute was traditionally reserved to Thomas Aquinas. Pope Benedict XVI did not go so far. Nevertheless, in his visit in Luther’s Monastery in Erfurt (2011), he said about him: “It was the question of God that inspired him. This was his deep passion and the zeal of his existence and the entire way of his life.”20 The pope declared that this decision for God should again become the central motivation of our time. Thus, at least indirectly, he saw Luther as our common teacher. As you may remember, on Reformation Day in 2016, Pope Francis, together with representatives of the Lutheran World Federation, celebrated an ecumenical service in the cathedral of Lund in Sweden. It was the official opening of the year of commemoration. In his sermon, the pope regarded Luther’s question “How can I get a propitious God?” as “the decisive question for our lives.” It reveals the “just relationship with God.”21 In a joint declaration, which was signed within this service, both churches pledged “to witness together to God’s merciful grace.” They expressed that they are “profoundly thankful for the spiritual and theological gifts received through the Reformation.”22 That the pope signed this text opens new horizons. I think theologians should use the open space.

Luther’s Message of Justification by Faith in Ecumenical Context We have just passed the 500th anniversary commemoration of the Reformation in an ecumenical spirit. The Protestant churches do not celebrate Luther as a hero or as a saint. They decreed to celebrate the Lord Jesus Christ, whom Luther had preached and whom he had witnessed. In such a celebration, all Christians can come together. In fact, 2017 appeared  Lutherische Rundschau 20 (1970): 447–60.  Verlautbarungen des Apostolischen Stuhls, Nr. 189 (Bonn: Deutsche Bischofskonferenz, 2011). 21  Homily of His Holiness Pope Francis, 31 October 2016 http://www.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/homilies/2016/documents/papa-francesco_20161031_omelia-svezialund.html 22  Joint Statement on the occasion of the Joint Catholic-Lutheran Commemoration of the Reformation 31 October 2016. http://www.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/homilies/2016/documents/papa-francesco_20161031_omelia-svezia-lund.html 19 20

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almost as a jubilee also of the Catholic Church. Nevertheless, in my opinion, there remain some shortcomings. It was nice to see that Catholic and Protestant German Bishops travelled together to Jerusalem, that they embraced one another, and that they mutually forgave each other. But what did they actually forgive? To my mind, the memory of the Reformation should not bypass Luther’s own motivation. In a retrospective on his life, he himself clarified his intention: it was the message of the justification of the sinner. The Reformation started with his question: “How can I find a merciful God?” Not all the shortcomings of the Church in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, not the immorality of the Renaissance popes and the bishops who lived and acted as mundane princes and not as shepherds of their congregations were the root of Luther’s protest. What Luther had seen during the months he lived in Rome (1511–1512) did not shake his loyalty towards the pope and the old Church. As a monk of the Augustinian Eremites, he was very aware of the fact that all humans are sinners. That church officials were also sinners did not make him question his faith. In 1517, he formulated the 95 theses within his theology of confession. The widespread belief that Luther’s reformation was the consequence of abuses by the hierarchy and the grievances among the faithful falls too short of explaining the facts. In its centre, Luther’s reformation was not a revolution against the pope but a breakthrough of the biblical message of justification. In Lutheran terminology, this belief in justification is the articulus stantis vel cadentis ecclesiae,23 the question that discerns between the Christian faith and disbelief. All the other issues depend on this point. Without a foundation in the message of justification, the commemorations of 2017 were in danger of becoming rootless and superficial, including the Luther tourism in Germany as well as many of the services with mutual forgiveness. Actually, I was not very enthusiastic about what I observed as the celebration of the fifth centenary, at least in Germany. Nevertheless, I will conclude on a positive note. In October 2016 the Protestant Church in Germany and the Catholic Bishops Conference published a joint declaration with the headline: “Healing Memories— Witnessing Jesus Christ.”24 This text urges both sides to purify their memories, for example, to examine whether it is true that Protestants have  The article by which the Church stands or falls.  Erinnerung heilen—Jesus Christus bezeugen.

23 24

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abandoned works of mercy and good deeds because of the concept of sola fide. Is it true that the Reformation excluded responsibility of the faithful for their own lives, for society, and for history? Obviously, Catholics have to correct some traditional judgements on this point as wrongful prejudices. On the other hand, is it true that Catholics try to safeguard themselves from God by good deeds and by religious offerings and indulgencies, and that they rely on their own efforts and thus neglect the cross of the Lord? Is it true that the pope suppresses the Bible, and that he tries to dislodge Christ as the basis of the Church? Both churches have to examine widespread and deep-rooted verdicts concerning whether they correctly reflect the teaching and the piety of the partner Church or are nothing but misunderstandings or even sheer insults. On both sides, we have many memories to heal! The declaration of the Protestant Church in Germany and the German Bishops Conference of 2016 explains Luther’s message by unfolding his concept of justification. Thus, it carries on the legacy of the Joint Declaration on Justification from the year 1999. This document was originally signed by the Lutheran World Federation and the Catholic Church. In the meantime the Methodist Churches (2006), the Anglican Consultative Council (2016), and the Reformed Churches in the tradition of Calvin (2017) have entered the agreement. The churches formulated a basic consensus regarding the doctrine of justification and declared it to be the criterion for the entire Christian faith and the life of the Church. Nevertheless, up to now, the churches have not been very eager to apply this criterion to the ecumenical problems of today. I hope the new declaration might be a wake-up call to the congregations and to the theologians. Of course, Luther’s Reformation had many effects in the social, political, philosophical, and cultural realms, and we have to remember them. Nevertheless, the churches should not bypass what Luther himself saw as the essence of the Christian faith. In the Articles of Schmalkalden, he declared that in the message of justification Protestants could not enter discussions or accept compromises with the Church of the pope. I think it is the special vocation of the churches to insert this core element of the Reformation into the manifold memories of 2017. Without it, the celebrations are in danger of being superficial or trivial. Up to now, I had been under the impression that the churches prefer symbolic acts without practical consequences. We should try to overcome the differences that separate our churches today and that hinder courageous steps towards becoming a community of Christians. Such actions I would regard

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as an appropriate commemoration of Luther in 2017.25 The agreement on justification gives the chance for further joint declarations, for example, on the theology of the sacraments, the Eucharist, the Church, and its ministries. A true engagement in these ecumenical challenges would give us the right not only to commemorate 500 years, but also to celebrate what was truly central to the Reformation and to do it together.

25  I have tried to follow this path in my book, Martin Luthers Reformation. Eine katholische Würdigung (Freiburg-Basel-Wien: Verlag Herder, 2017).

CHAPTER 4

“Happy Birthday, Comrade Martin!” The 500th Anniversary of Luther’s Birth and the Challenge to State Authority in the German Democratic Republic Stephen G. Brown An outside observer visiting the German Democratic Republic (GDR) in 1983 could have been forgiven for thinking that it was not Karl Marx, but Martin Luther, who provided the underpinning of the “first socialist state on German soil.” Signs of the commemoration of the 500th anniversary of Luther’s birth were everywhere: the Altes Museum in Berlin was displaying a major exhibition on Kunst der Reformationszeit; articles about Martin Luther could be found not only in church publications but in journals such as the Deutsche Zeitschrift für Philosophie and the Zeitschrift

“Happy Birthday, Comrade Martin,” was the title of a CTVC production broadcast on Channel 4 in 1983 on the churches in the German Democratic Republic. S. G. Brown (*) The Ecumenical Review, World Council of Churches, Geneva, Switzerland e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 G. Mannion et al. (eds.), Ecumenical Perspectives Five Hundred Years After Luther’s Reformation, Pathways for Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-68360-3_4

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für Geschichtswissenschaft that were part of the official academic discourse in the GDR, literary journals such as Sinn und Form, neue deutsche literature, or the Weimarer Beiträge, and even in Einheit, the theoretical journal of the ruling Socialist Unity Party (SED). There was a television biopic series on Luther and a new biography of the Reformer by the Marxist historian Gerhard Brendler, while in Meiningen, a former ducal residence in the south of the GDR, the Stadttheater was staging the play Die Wiedertäufer (The Anabaptists) by the Swiss dramatist Friedrich Dürrenmatt, which warns, as it happens, of the dangers of ideological partisans seizing power and using the state apparatus to repress all opposition. The GDR’s official Martin Luther Committee was presided by GDR leader Erich Honecker, general secretary of the SED and chairperson of the GDR State Council, who, speaking at the first meeting of the committee in June 1980, described Luther as “one of the greatest sons of the German nation.”1 The highlight of the state’s Luther commemoration of 1983 was an official state ceremony on 9 November 1983 in East Berlin. Certainly, the territories that after the Second World War made up the Soviet Zone of Occupation of Germany, and then, from 1949, the GDR, were the heartland of the Lutheran Reformation: Eisleben, where Luther was born and died; Erfurt, where he entered an Augustinian monastery; Wittenberg, where Luther promulgated his 95 Theses; Leipzig, where Luther engaged in debate with Johannes Eck; and Eisenach, where he took refuge on the Wartburg. This Reformation tradition extended into art and culture, for it was also here that artists and musicians such as Lucas Cranach the Elder and Johann Sebastian Bach lived and worked. Despite  the historical and cultural Reformation tradition in East Germany, the SED, which assumed power at the founding of the GDR in 1949, was deeply ambivalent about the legacy of Luther,  who had been portrayed by Friedrich Engels as the lackey of the princes through his support for the suppression of the leaders of the Peasants’ War. Instead, the GDR lifted up theologian Thomas Müntzer, executed in 1525 for his role as a leader of the rebels in the Peasants’ War. Yet, now, according to the Theses Concerning Martin Luther, published in 1981 by a working group of the GDR Academy of Sciences, the “progressive achievement of 1  Erich Honecker, “Unsere Zeit verlangt Parteinahme für Fortschritt, Vernunft und Menschlichkeit,” in Martin Luther und unsere Zeit, ed. Martin-Luther-Komitee der DDR (Berlin: Aufbau-Verlag, 1980), 11.

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Luther has its firm place in the cultural tradition of the German Democratic Republic,”2 while Erich Honecker himself, in an unprecedented interview in 1983 with a West German church monthly, the Lutherische Monatshefte, described Luther as inspiring “revolutionary impulses that went far beyond the German states of those days…. When he stood before the Imperial Diet of Worms… [he] followed his conscience rather than the official doctrines.”3 While the historical assessment of Luther in the GDR was by no means as monolithic as is sometimes assumed,4 such statements, together with the high-profile role of the SED’s general secretary, marked a new tone and a re-evaluation of the place of Luther in German history in general, and in the history of the GDR specifically. This chapter explores how the attempt of the GDR and the SED to use the Luther anniversary to re-appropriate motifs in German history it had previously spurned and to incorporate the GDR’s Protestant churches into the strengthening of the socialist state instead led to the reinforcement of the self-confidence of the Protestant churches as well as the ultimate failure of the official attempt to construct a new national narrative for the GDR that would strengthen the identification of citizens with the state in which they lived. As such, the Luther commemoration of 1983 was a contested commemoration in which the ambitions placed on it failed to materialize. The consequences of this failure would be seen in the growth of disaffection and dissent within the Protestant churches and beyond, and which became manifest in the “peaceful revolution” of 1989. 2  The Luther Quincentenary in the German Democratic Republic, Theses Concerning Martin Luther (Dresden; Verlag Zeit im Bild, n.d.), 34–36. According to the theses, it was the “victory of the working class” and the establishment of socialism in the GDR that had “created the necessary conditions for a fair and reasoned assessment of the importance of Luther.” On the development of the theses see Hartmut Lehmann, “Zur Entstehung der 15 Thesen über Martin Luther im Jahre 1983,” in Protestantisches Christentum im Prozess der Säkularisierung, ed. Hartmut Lehmann (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2001), 127–158. 3  “Interview Erich Honeckers mit der BRD-Zeitschrift ‘Lutherische Monatshefte’: DDRLutherehrung Manifestation der Humanität und des Friedens,” Neues Deutschland, 6 October 1983, 3. 4  Peter Maser has described the changes in the portrayal of Luther in the Soviet Zone of Occupation and then the GDR from 1946 to 1983, with Luther portrayed as a “Fighter for Germany and its Unity,” for example, on the occasion of the 400th anniversary of his death in 1946. See “Die Entwicklung des marxistischen Lutherbildes,” Chapter 3, Peter Maser, “Mit Luther alles in Butter?” Das Lutherjahr 1983 im Spiegel ausgewählter Akten (Berlin: Metropol, 2013), 40.

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The Luther Commemoration and Church–State Relationships in the GDR First, the 1983 Luther anniversary needs to be seen against the background of the changing relationship between church and state in the GDR, unique among Eastern Europe states in having a predominantly Protestant religious tradition. From the founding of the GDR in 1949 to its collapse four decades later, state policy towards the Protestant churches wavered from outright repression in the 1950s to cautious collaboration in the 1970s and early 1980s. Christians in the GDR faced discrimination and disadvantages, not least in access to higher education, but even during the most repressive periods of state action, the eight regional Protestant churches on the territory of the GDR were able to maintain their institutional and organizational autonomy from the state, with their own decision-­making synods and elected bishops. Nevertheless, from the end of the 1950s onwards, the state increasingly hindered contacts between the Protestant churches in the GDR and the Evangelical Church in Germany (EKD), the formal grouping of all Protestant regional churches in both West and East Germany. In 1969, the Protestant churches on the territory of the GDR formed their own Federation of Protestant Churches (Bund der Evangelischen Kirchen (BEK)), separate from the EKD, and the somewhat ambiguous statement by the Federation in the early 1970s that it saw itself as a “church within socialism” was interpreted by the state as a sign that the Protestant church was willing to accept a constructive, but subordinate, role within the GDR state structures.5 This development coincided with the coming to power of Erich Honecker as SED general secretary and the policy of East–West détente that led to the international diplomatic recognition of the GDR and increased contacts between the two German states. The foundation of the BEK opened the way for official contacts with the authorities, one of the results of which was a summit meeting on 6 March 1978 between leaders of the Federation of Protestant Churches and GDR leader Erich Honecker, the outcome of which took on the role of a de facto constitutional settlement for the position of the Protestant churches in the GDR.  Following this meeting, permission was given to 5  On the history of the Protestant church describing itself as a “church within socialism,” see Stephen Brown, Von der Unzufriedenheit zum Widerspruch, trans. Franck KürschnerPelkmann (Frankfurt/Main: Verlag Otto Lembeck, 2010), 48–53.

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build churches on new housing estates, while the  Protestant churches gained access to GDR radio and television and were able to take an increasing role in international ecumenical affairs. One example of this was the permission given to the Federation to host a meeting of the central committee of the World Council of Churches (WCC) in Dresden in 1981. Shortly before the WCC meeting, Klaus Gysi, the GDR’s state secretary for church affairs, in lectures in London and Geneva, described its policy towards the church as being a “great historic experiment.”6 While not spurning ideological competition, nor all discriminatory measures against Christians, the GDR sought to incorporate Protestantism into the strengthening of the state at home and abroad. The Luther anniversary formed part of this policy, with Honecker promising support from the state for church activities in the year of the Luther jubilee in 1983, according to the report of the 1978 church–state meeting published in the official party newspaper, Neues Deutschland.7 Furthermore, according to the record of the church–state meeting circulated to the SED politburo eight days later on 14 March 1978, Honecker went further than the press report suggested, stating: The German Democratic Republic sees itself as the inheritor of all that is progressive and humanist in the history of our nation [Volk]. The Luther jubilee in 1983 will be prepared in good time through a state commission. It would be appropriate to coordinate the state and church efforts for the Luther jubilee. As far as the renovation of the Luther memorial sites in Wittenberg, Eisleben, Eisenach, and Erfurt are concerned, the state organs already have instructions for the appropriate reconstruction of these sites.8

The significance of this statement for the SED’s historical and ideological understanding of Luther will be discussed below, but what is striking is the intimate connection between the reorientation of church–state relations symbolized by the meeting of 6 March 1978 and the official celebration of 6  Klaus Gysi, “Kirche und Staat in der DDR: Vorträge in London und Genf,” epd-Dokumentation 28/81, 8. 7  See the report of the meeting published in the official SED newspaper: “Konstruktives, freimütiges Gespräch beim Vorsitzenden des Staatsrates,” Neues Deutschland, 7 March 1988. 8  “Bericht über das Gespräch des Generalsekretärs des ZK der SED und Vorsitzenden des Staatsrates der DDR, Genossen Erich Honecker, mit dem Vorstand der Konferenz der Evangelischen Kirchenleitungen in der DDR am 6.3.1978,” Document 62  in SED und Kirche. Eine Dokumentation ihrer Beziehungen, vol. 2: SED 1968–1989, ed. Frederic Hartweg and Horst Dohle (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener-Verlag, 1995), 336.

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the Luther anniversary by the state. The commemoration of the 450th anniversary of the Reformation in 1967 had been marked by controversy between state and church: GDR church representatives left the state committee after the GDR refused visas to representatives from the EKD in the West.9 The organization of the 1983 Luther anniversary, on the other hand, after difficult negotiations, was finally organized in a way that recognized the autonomous but circumscribed role of the Protestant churches in the GDR, with two separate Luther committees, one under the patronage of the state, and the other under the auspices of the church, but cooperating with each other, and four church observers attending—but not officially members of—the state committee.10 Honecker’s announcement of an official state commemoration meant that the Protestant churches also had to adjust their perspectives for the Luther anniversary in 1983. The church committee that had been preparing for the jubilee since 1975 had until then been envisaging a rather low-key commemoration, centred on parish seminars, regional events, and study days.11 The Protestant churches now began actively preparing their own large-scale events for 1983. Shunned diplomatically outside the Soviet bloc until the early 1970s, the Luther anniversary promised to raise the GDR’s profile internationally, and, quite apart from the interest in hard currency earnings from tourists, buttress the legitimacy of the GDR through the participation of international statespersons. The SED planned to invite not only senior West German politicians—including the federal president and the chancellor— to the official state ceremony in East Berlin, but also the crowned heads of the Nordic Lutheran states. At the same time, there was a clear attempt by the SED to appropriate the figure of Martin Luther for the purposes of the GDR and not leave it to West Germany alone to commemorate Luther,

9   Jan Scheunemann, “Das Luther-Jubiläum 1983  in der DDR als gesamtdeutsches Ereignis,” in Asymmetrisch verflochten?: Neue Forschungen zur gesamtdeutschen Nachkriegsgeschichte, ed. Detlev Brunner, Udo Grashoff, Andreas Kötzing (Berlin: LinksVerlag, 2013), 43. 10  Horst Döhle, a senior official under the GDR’s state secretary for church affairs, has described the complicated negotiations between church and state that led to the agreement for two parallel committees; see Horst Dohle, “Die Luther-Ehrung und die Kirchenpolitik der DDR,” in Luther und die DDR, ed. Horst Dähn and Joachim Heise (Berlin: edition Ost, 1996), 55–60. 11  Maser, “Mit Luther,” 59–60.

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and in doing so for the West to promote an “all-German” celebration of German history and culture.12

The Shift in the Official Historical Understanding of Martin Luther Beyond the pragmatic objectives of incorporating the Protestant churches into the SED-governed GDR society and raising the international prestige of the GDR, the Luther anniversary also marked a re-evaluation of the person and role of Martin Luther within the traditions of the German Democratic Republic. In his report to the SED politburo on 14 March 1978, Honecker had referred not only to the creation of an official state commission to prepare for the Luther anniversary and plans for the renovation of historic Luther monuments and memorial sites, but he also made the sweeping claim that the GDR was “the inheritor of all that is progressive and humanist in the history of our nation [Volk]” (emphasis added), a claim that he repeated in his New Year greetings to his subjects at the end of 1978.13 Honecker was not simply announcing the creation of an official state commission to prepare for the anniversary, but making the ideological claim that Luther belonged not only to so-called bourgeois history, nor only to church history, but also to the history of the GDR itself as a whole. This re-evaluation of the life and work of Luther coincided with the re-evaluation more generally by GDR historians of the relationship between Germany’s cultural and historical “heritage” and the historical “traditions” of the GDR, seen for example also in a new interest in the history of Prussia. It was Erich Honecker himself who set out this new approach to Luther in his opening address as chairperson of the official Martin Luther Committee at its founding meeting on 13 June 1980 in Berlin. Luther, he said, was “one of the greatest sons of the German people” and the GDR and its citizens paid tribute to “the historical achievement that he accomplished for social progress and world culture through setting in motion the Reformation, which represented a middle-class [bürgerliche]  Scheunemann, “Das Luther-Jubiläum,” 38.  In this address, Honecker stated that the GDR was the “inheritor of all that is progressive and humanist in the history of the German nation.” Erich Honecker, “Allen Bürgern unsere Republik ein erfolgreiches und gesundes neues Jahr,” Neues Deutschland, 30–31 (December 1978), 1. 12 13

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revolution.” Luther was one of the most important humanists, striving for a more just world, Honecker continued, and “among the progressive traditions that we cultivate and continue is the work and the legacy of all those who have contributed to progress, the development of world culture, irrespective of the social and class-related bonds in which they found themselves.”14 Though it was the tragedy of Luther that he failed to appreciate the importance of the Peasants’ War, even after its “brutal suppression,” Luther continued his tough and tenacious work for the Reformation. Honecker referred to the “many references” by Marx and Engels to the progressive historical achievement of Luther and the Reformation, while Lenin, like Engels before him, counted the Reformation and the Peasants’ War as among the “greatest revolutions of the previous era.” Honecker ended his address by stating that the commemoration of the person and work of Martin Luther reflected the cooperation of all citizens of the GDR, irrespective of their world view or religion, and a policy which, aiming at the wellbeing of the people, as practised in the GDR, “corresponds at the same time to a basic Christian concern.”15 In early 1978, at the time that Honecker first presented the results of his meeting with church leaders to the SED politburo, there did not yet exist, according to the historian Peter Maser, “any adequate ideological justification for such a fundamental reformulation of the Marxist historical understanding [Geschichtsbild] concerning Martin Luther and the Reformation.”16 Here, the SED was reliant on the historians of the GDR, and specifically the relatively small group of historians dealing with the Reformation period. In November 1978, a working group for the “coordination of the academic [wissentschaftliche] preparatory work for the Luther jubilee” was set up at the GDR Academy of Sciences.17 Its president was Horst Bartel, the director of the academy’s Central Institute for History, its secretary Gerhard Brendler, who would become the author of the GDR Luther biography, while its members included Max Steinmetz, the “father” of Reformation research in the GDR. It was this group that would develop the Theses Concerning Martin Luther published in 1981. These theses set out the historical understanding of Luther in the GDR,  Erich Honecker, “Unsere Zeit,” 11–12.  Ibid., 14–17. 16  Maser, “Mit Luther,” 77. 17  For the work of this committee see Lehmann, “Zur Entstehung der 15 Theses,” 128–131. 14 15

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and were of central importance for the Luther commemoration, setting out as they did the official political and ideological guidelines that the Luther activities should follow. Hartmut Lehman offers this analysis:18 On the one hand, [the authors] carefully protected themselves: in both the first and the last thesis, they make a point of quoting Erich Honecker, and in several places Friedrich Engels. On the other hand, however, it is noticeable that Luther’s theology in the theses is no longer seen as merely a reflection of socio-economic processes, but there is the development of a certain understanding that faith and religion had an existential significance for the people of the 16th century. This revision of older Marxist positions is often referred to by them as the new insights of Marxist research on Luther.19

Gerhard Brendler has noted, however, that unlike similar documents drawn up for other official occasions in the GDR, the Martin Luther theses were never published as “official theses” of the SED central committee, but rather as the theses of a group of academics: this meant that rejecting the theses did not bring one into conflict with the central committee, nor did support for the theses equate with support for Marxism-Leninism or the leading role of the SED.20 The fact they were not the “official theses” of the central committee might also indicate some reticence within the leading organs of the SED about adopting Luther as an exemplar for socialism. In an article published in 1984,21 Horst Bartel and Walter Schmidt, the director of the Institute for the German Labour Movement of the Academy of Sciences, traced the beginnings of the re-evaluation of Luther from the time of the 1967 Reformation commemoration, a process that intensified from the mid-1970s, before receiving a particular impetus from the 1983 Luther anniversary itself. The two Marxist historians noted in particular the intensive treatment confirmed for the first time Luther as a theologian and the direct role of theology as a factor for social change, not just as a reflection of social forces; the need to transcend the relatively undifferentiated, often moralistic rejection of Luther’s position on the Peasants’ War to take account of his theological motivation; and Luther’s influence on  Lehmann, “Zur Entstehung der 15 Theses,” 140.  Ibid., 157. 20  Letter by Gerhard Brendler to Theo Lehmann, 26.2.2000, cited in ibid., 144, note 10. 21   Horst Bartel and  Walter Schmidt, “Das historisch-materialistische Lutherbild in Geschichte und Gegenwart,” Zeitschrift für Geschichtswissenschaft 32:4 (1984), 291–301. 18 19

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society as a whole—in areas such as music, culture, art, economic thought, education, and especially his social and work ethic: “By taking into account the breadth, extent, and diversity of Luther’s activity, the image of Luther itself becomes more colourful, more precise, and—more positive.”22 One of the longest-lasting legacies of the plans for the 1983 commemoration was the institution of a series of expert discussions about the Reformation between Marxist historians and theologians and church historians. Until then it would have been unthinkable that Marxist historians of the Reformation would meet their Christian colleagues for an official exchange of opinions.23 Only the end of the GDR in 1990 brought a close to these discussions, notable for the fact that they took place in church premises rather than on neutral territory.24 Alongside their discussion of the re-evaluation of Martin Luther, Bartel and Schmidt point to the wider re-evaluation of historical “tradition” and “heritage” (Erbe) taking place in GDR historiography at this time, no longer focusing solely or mainly on revolutionary events and processes, but opening up the whole range of historical traditions, including those of the “ruling and exploitative classes,” that could contribute to the intellectual life of the “developing socialist German nation.”25 As Georg Iggers has pointed out in his discussion of Marxist historiography, on the one hand the GDR “represented a socialist German nation; on the other hand the party claimed the entire German past as the ‘heritage’ (Erbe) of the socialist nation.”26 While the “heritage” that constituted German history as a whole was distinguished from the positive “tradition” on which the GDR could build its sense of national identity, the basis for the legitimacy of the socialist nation was much wider than simply the “progressive” tradition it had claimed up until then. Historians now had to transcend the previous schematic division between “progressive” and “reactionary”  Ibid., 300.  Dohle, “Die Luther-Ehrung und die Kirchenpolitik der DDR,” 69. 24  For an account of these discussions see Joachim Heise and Christa Stache, eds, Dialog über Luther und Müntzer: Zwanzig Expertengespräche zwischen kirchlichen und marxistischen Reformationshistorikern der DDR (1981–1990); eine Dokumentation (Berlin: Evangelisches Zentralarchiv, 2011). 25  Ibid., 298–299. 26  Georg G. Iggers, “Where Did Historical Studies in the German Democratic Republic Stand at the Eve of Unification?” in East German Historians since Reunification: A Discipline Transformed, ed. Axel Fair-Schulz and Mario Kessler (Albany, N.Y.: State University of New York Press, 2017), 36. 22 23

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traditions, while the concept of “tradition” now included not only the previous socialist heroic figures from Thomas Müntzer onwards, but all those who created the possibility of a socialist German state, leading to a reassessment not only of Martin Luther, but also of Frederick II, Otto von Bismarck, and the history of Prussia itself,27 symbolized by restoration in 1980 of the statue of Frederick the Great to its original place on the Unter den Linden in East Berlin. The Luther biography by Gerhard Brendler is a case in point.28 Published in 1983, the year of the Luther anniversary, its subtitle— “Theology and Revolution”—underlines the role of theology in understanding the Reformer, while its concluding paragraphs portray even Luther’s alliance with the princes as playing an objectively progressive role: After the failure of the Peasants’ War, Luther’s historical function consisted of defending ideologically the middle-class moderate Reformation and its alliance with the princes. Thus the chasm between Luther and the popular movement became wider, and his dependence on the German princes increased. However, Luther’s amicable relationship with the German princes provided for the erection of a barrier against a complete re-Catholicizing of Germany, for the basis of further development of the Reformation in Europe, and therefore for new thrusts in the middle-class struggle for emancipation. Martin Luther, [though] fettered by the inconsistencies of his age, was an activating agent [the German text has “progressiver Akteur”] in the process of the early middle-class revolution.29

“The young Luther was a rebel in a monk’s cowl,” wrote Brendler. “However, circumstances had so changed that, although the rhetoric for the most part had remained the same, its social function had changed.”30 In his Luther biography, Brendler also appeared to draw a parallel between the situation facing Luther, a rebellious monk who over the course of the revolution he unleashed became an objective ally of the German princes, and that facing the GDR, whose beginnings were rooted in revolutionary fervour but which was now an established state with an entrenched ruling  Ibid.  Gerhard Brendler, Martin Luther: Theologie und Revolution (Berlin: Deutscher Verlag der Wissenschaften, 1983); English translation: Martin Luther. Theology and Revolution, trans. Claude R. Foster, Jr. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1991). 29  Gerhard Brendler, Martin Luther, 376 (English translation), 445 (German edition). 30  Ibid., 330 (English translation), 389 (German edition), emphasis added. 27 28

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party: “The more the Reformation became consolidated, the more it became a force for order that was obliged to cooperate with other systems of order.”31 Possibly the challenge now facing the SED was similar to that facing the older Luther: “In contrast to the youth who believed they correctly represented a doctrine when they studiously repeated unaltered its fundamental premises and seminal ideas, Luther had learned long ago to regard its own teaching within that context determined by the specific historical circumstances. Luther would not permit himself to be defeated by his own past, but he also would not deny what he had once promulgated.”32 Writing in the mid-1990s, after the end of the GDR, Brendler was more explicit about the reassessment of the place of Martin Luther and the German historical legacy more generally in the traditions of the GDR. He writes that, immediately after the Second World War, the SED attempted “to recall the revolutionary events and figures of German history so as to develop a democratic and revolutionary tradition.”33 By the 1980s, however, this “by now customary understanding of tradition, rooted in the instinct for class struggle of the communists, did not have the power to integrate the proclaimed ‘socialist human community,’ or the supposedly ‘socialist nation,’ and to create or at least serve as a comprehensive sense of identity.”34 Everyone knew, Brendler continued, that society was not only made up of born antifascists, still less communists, atheists, or Marxists. If the GDR wanted to become a “nation state” in its own right, then it needed to develop its own “iconography,” from its own territory, through figures such as Luther, Friedrich II, or Bismarck.

The Martin Luther Anniversary as a Contested Commemoration The GDR’s commemoration of Martin Luther never quite lived up to the ambitions that had been set for it, despite the programme to honour the Reformer’s achievements. This was in part due to the tense international situation in which the 1983 anniversary took place, following the 1979 Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, the NATO twin-track decision shortly before this to deploy medium-range nuclear missiles in Europe as a  Ibid., 335 (English translation), 394 (German edition).  Ibid., 356 (English translation), 430 (German edition). 33  Gerhard Brendler, “Luther im Traditionskonflikt der DDR,” in Dähn and Heise, eds, Luther und die DDR, 21–52, here 31. 34  Ibid., 52. 31 32

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response to Soviet SS-20 missiles, and the announced “counter measures” by the Warsaw Pact. Despite a large-scale peace movement in the Federal Republic, seen in a mass demonstration in Bonn on 22 October 1983, the Bundestag ratified the deployment of these missiles on 22 November 1983, less than two weeks after the Luther anniversary, increasing tension between the two German states. In the GDR itself, church–state relationships were increasingly troubled by a growing autonomous peace movement within Protestant churches, using as a slogan the Old Testament vision of turning “Swords into Ploughshares.” Neither church–state relationships nor those between the two German states were propitious for the Luther commemoration. Honecker’s ambitious aim had been to welcome various heads of state to the GDR for the Luther commemoration.35 However, the Federal German president and chancellor declined the invitation to the official state ceremony that took place  on 9 November 1983,36 as did the crowned heads of the Nordic Lutheran nations. Given this, the state ceremony itself became a distinctly subdued occasion. The main address, instead of being given by Honecker in his capacity as chairperson of the Martin Luther Committee,37 was left to one of his deputies, Gerald Götting, chairperson of the Christian Democratic Union, one of the “bloc parties” represented in the GDR parliament but following the lead of the SED. The fact that Götting, and not Honecker, gave the main address suggested that an enhancement of church–state relations could not be expected, given the somewhat ambiguous relationship of the GDR Protestant churches with the CDU, which claimed to represent the interests of GDR Christians. Though spread over two pages of the official party newspaper, Neues Deutschland,38 Götting’s address added little to the GDR’s re-evaluation of the role of Luther. If anything, it appeared to set limits once again to the GDR’s appreciation of the great Reformer, instead holding up Thomas Müntzer as the “leader of the revolutionary sections of the people.” With the Peasants’ War, Götting stated, the point was  Dohle, “Die Luther-Ehrung und die Kirchenpolitik der DDR,” 79.  Scheunemann, “Luther-Jubiläum,” 37. 37  Honecker gave a separate address as a reception during the state ceremony for the church representatives attending the Luther commemoration, see Erich Honecker, “Im Ringen um Frieden dem Erbe Luthers verbunden: Toast von Erich Honecker, Vorsitzender des Staatsrates der DDR und Vorsitzender des Martin-Luther-Komitees der DDR auf dem Festempfang,” Neues Deutschland, 10 November 1983. 38  Gerald Götting, “In gemeinsamer Aktion für die Bewahrung des Lebens: Festansprache von Gerald Götting, Stellvertreter des Vorsitzenden des Staatsrates der DDR und Stellvertreter des Vorsitzenden des Martin-Luther-Komitees der DDR auf dem Festakt,” Neues Deutschland, 10 October 1983, 3–4. 35 36

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reached where, alongside the greatness of Martin Luther, “his limitations and the class-bound limits of his historical position and achievement became apparent.” Moreover, Götting’s address took on a something of a polemical tone when it claimed Martin Luther’s work ethic as the basis for the socialist labour morale in the GDR, and stated that “according to Luther, the pursuit of peace is also served by the so-called ‘divine service of the Sword,’ that is to say armed readiness for defence,” a riposte to those in the church calling for swords to be beaten into ploughshares. Although the state commemoration of Luther was at most a limited success, the church events to mark the 500th anniversary of Luther’s birth brought 200 international ecumenical guests to the GDR, including the Archbishop of Canterbury, Robert Runcie; Cardinal Johannes Willebrands of the Roman Catholic Church; the general secretaries of the World Council of Churches, Philip Potter, and of the Lutheran World Federation, Carl Mau; Bishop K. H. Ting from the People’s Republic of China; Bishop Eduard Lohse of the Evangelical Church in Germany; and Metropolitan Filaret of the Russian Orthodox Church.39 The church’s Luther commemoration marked an ecumenical milestone in at least two respects: Cardinal Willebrand’s reflections on Martin Luther40 served as a contribution to the process of the Roman Catholic re-evaluation of Martin Luther that would culminate in the joint Catholic-Lutheran commemoration of the Reformation in Lund in 2016, and the impetus the Luther commemoration gave to the Archbishop of Canterbury to set in motion the discussions that would lead to the Meissen agreement between the Church of England and the Evangelical Church in Germany.41 In so doing, the Luther commemoration strengthened the self-confidence of the GDR churches and consolidated their role in the international network of church relationships. 39  For the texts of the church commemoration of Luther, see Helmut Zeddies and RolfDieter Günther, eds, Gott über all Dinge: Begegnungen mit Martin Luther (Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 1984). 40  Johannes Kardinal Willebrands, “Martin Luther 1483–1983,” in ibid., 99–104; English translation: Information Service of the Secretariat for Promoting Christian Unity 52:3 (1983), 92–94; see John A. Radano, Lutheran and Catholic Reconciliation on Justification (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009), 72–74. 41  Christa Grengel, “Comments on the Meissen Process,” in Die Entstehung der Meissener Erklärung: Berichte von drei Zeitzeugen/The Birth of the Meissen Agreement: Experiences of Three Contemporary Witnesses, ed. EKD Meissen Commission (Hanover: Evangelical Church in Germany, n.d.), 22, EKD website, https://www.ekd.de/ekd_de/ds_doc/die_entstehung_der_meissener_erklaerung.pdf.

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The subdued nature of the state’s Luther commemoration was not simply the result of a tense international situation and difficulties between church and state in the GDR. The fundamental re-evaluation of the person and work of Luther that had been announced by Honecker with the promulgation of the official state commemoration met with some resistance from sections of the SED. As plans for a five-part television film portraying Luther were being elaborated, the then State Secretary for Church Affairs, Klaus Gysi, when asked at the end of August 1981 how the project would be perceived by the Protestants and Catholics in the GDR, issued a note of caution. The problem was not with the churches as such, for whom the film would create little difficulty—apart from the need to avoid alienating Catholics by portraying the Vatican in too negative a light—but the possible negative reactions from sections of the SED itself, because of the perception about the apparent downgrading of Thomas Müntzer to the benefit of Luther. “A discussion within the party is unavoidable,” Gysi is recorded as saying. 42 Adolf Laube, a member of the working group of the Academy of Sciences charged with preparing the academic foundations for the Luther anniversary, has since stated that the positive re-evaluation of Luther was contested within the SED, recalling how the state commemoration of Luther had met fierce criticism within the GDR: “On many of our engagements in the GDR we encountered incomprehension and fierce criticism as to why the GDR was spending such time and effort honouring someone who was a church reformer and more than this had gone down in history as a lackey of the princes and as a butcher of the peasants. It simply went too far—and not only for SED functionaries and veterans of the party.”43 Local and regional party functionaries dragged their feet or even blocked measures linked to the Luther commemoration, and sometimes only the intervention of the Martin Luther Committee or threatening to take the matter to Erich Honecker could get things moving.44 In March 1983, Gysi found himself having to remind GDR district officials that “it was not an accident that I told the meeting of representatives of the two 42  See Rotraut Simons, “Das DDR-Fernsehen und die Luther-Ehrung,” in Dähn and Heise, eds, Luther und die DDR, 133, citing a memorandum of a discussion with Gysi, in the Deutsches Rundfunkarchiv, archive file Drama Martin Luther Prod. 43  “Interview mit Adolf Laube,” in Dialog über Luther und Münzer, ed. Joachim Heise and Christa Stache (Berlin: Gesellschaft zur Förderung vergleichender Staat-Kirche-Forschung, 2011), 271–272. 44  Dohle, “Die Luther-Ehrung,” 93.

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Luther committees in Wittenberg on 17.2.1983 that the fruitful experience of working together now needed to be reflected in the experience of everyday life…. Given various incidents I considered this to be necessary and I repeat it once again.”45 The GDR’s education ministry under Margot Honecker—who was also Erich Honecker’s wife—resisted the new understanding of Luther being reflected in GDR textbooks,46 while the grand old man, the nestor, of the GDR social sciences, the historian Jürgen Kuczynski, described the theses about Luther as being tantamount to a “hagiography.”47 The SED attempted to counter some of the discontent by declaring 1983 as the Karl Marx Year to mark the 100th anniversary of his death, but the commemorations of the nineteenth-century political economist were overshadowed by those of Martin Luther. Alongside the contested nature of the Luther commemoration within the SED, there was also the issue of the relationship between state and church. The Protestant churches had been preparing for the Luther anniversary since 1975, and particularly the idea of the International Conference for Luther Research being hosted in the GDR. As far as its own activities were concerned, the Federation of Protestant Churches planned to focus on parish and regional church events. The announcement by Erich Honecker at his meeting with church leaders in 1978 that the commemoration of Luther would be a major priority for the state as a whole meant that the church, like the SED, was confronted with the need for larger scale planning. Thus it planned seven regional Kirchentage in different parts of the GDR in the summer months of 1983 under the motto, Vertrauen wagen—“Dare to trust.” The highlight of the church activities was a commemoration in Luther’s birthplace of Eisleben on 10 November 1983, the anniversary of his birth, to be followed by a weekend of the “Days of Ecumenical Encounter” in neighbouring Leipzig to which high-ranking international church representatives were invited. For Honecker, it was clear that the Luther commemoration could be celebrated only with the churches and not against them. Thus he was willing to make significant concessions to ensure the support of the churches for the commemoration as a whole. The state ceremony took place in East  Ibid., 83.  See Hans-Jürgen Schreiber and Achim Leschinsky, “Luther vor der Revisionsinstanz. Der Konflikt um das Luther-Bild und der Einfluß der Historiker auf die Revision des DDRGeschichtslehrplanes in den 80er Jahren,” Zeitschrift für Pädagogik 46:2 (March-April 2000), 275–294. 47  Ibid., 284. 45 46

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Berlin on 9 November 1983 instead of the actual anniversary of Luther’s birth the following day, as originally planned, to allow the main church commemoration to take place on 10 November in Eisleben. For their part, the churches’ Luther committee cooperated with its state counterpart in drawing up a joint list of dignitaries to be invited to the events in East Berlin and Eisleben. State invitees would also be entitled to attend the church events, while representatives from the churches were to be invited by the Federation of Protestant Churches, with the exception of the Archbishop of Canterbury, Robert Runcie, who found himself on the list of state invitees.48 The Luther commemoration, however, took place at a difficult time for relations between state and church in the GDR. The deterioration in the international situation since the church–state summit of 6 March 1978 led to the Protestant churches in the GDR taking an ever more forceful position on issues of peace and war.49 The introduction of military education in GDR schools in 1978 was the catalyst for a church-based autonomous peace movement calling for the “demilitarization” of GDR society and the right for conscientious objectors to undertake social work instead of military service. From 1980, the Federation of Protestant Churches had organized an annual Friedensdekade, a ten-day GDR-wide autumn peace campaign for which the symbol was a depiction of a Soviet statue donated to the United Nations in New York portraying a sword being forged into a ploughshare. The officially tolerated status of the Protestant churches in the GDR offered parishes a certain freedom of manoeuvre for their activities, as long as they took place on church premises and could be seen as having a religious dimension. A youth-based subculture developed within Protestant churches and the growth of what became known as Basisgruppen (grassroots groups) around issues such as peace, ecology, and civil rights, often critical of state positions. In March 1982, Honecker warned the SED’s district first party secretaries that “destructive” circles were seeking to undermine “the more or less good relationship of the Protestant churches to the state,” and of “certain forces in the church” using the “smoke screen of an ‘autonomous’ or ‘independent’ peace movement,  Maser, “Mit Luther,” 306–307.  On the peace work of the Federation of Protestant Churches in the GDR, see Anke Silomon, ‘Schwerter zu Pflugscharen’ und die DDR: die Friedensarbeit der evangelischen Kirchen in der DDR im Rahmen der Friedensdekaden 1980 bis 1982 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1999). 48 49

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acting in the interests of imperialist circles, to organize oppositional forces.”50 In September 1983, the synod of the Federation of Protestant Churches denounced the “spirit, logic, and practice of deterrence.” More than this, the Saxony bishop, Johannes Hempel, the presiding bishop of the Federation, spoke of the “frustration” of GDR citizens due to the “centralism of our society,” problems in the way the state dealt with young people and their “right to be angry,” and confusing “honest critique” with “agitation against society.”51 The SED politburo judged this intervention to be a provocation, and immediately reversed a decision, taken only seven days previously, that Erich Honecker should take part in the church’s Luther commemoration in Eisleben on 10 November 1983.52 The seven regional Kirchentage marking the Luther commemorations often became forums for protest.53 In Rostock, reported the Ministry for State Security, the Stasi, antagonistic and destructive forces (feindlich-­ destruktive Kräfte) attempted to coordinate their activities with groups in other parts of the GDR;54 in Eisleben, the bishop of the Church Province of Saxony, Werner Krusche, stated that it was difficult to trust the state, which was increasingly distrustful of Christians, and urged people to make greater use of the possibilities open to them to challenge unjust decisions or actions.55 In Frankfurt/Oder there were discussions about mobilizing women against the new law on military service which would see females being conscripted in times of emergency, and demands for unilateral disarmament by socialist states;56 and in Dresden, there were calls for the withdrawal of Soviet forces from the GDR.57 Most dramatically in Wittenberg itself, in the courtyard of the Lutherhaus, the monastery where Luther once resided, a metalworker literally forged a sword into a ploughshare before a crowd of 300 people.58 For state secretary Klaus Gysi, the 50  Erich Honecker, “Fernschreiben an die 1. Sekretäre der Bezirks- und Kreisleitungen der SED,” 16.04.1982, cited in Brown, Von der Unzufriedenheit, 60. 51  Maser, “Mit Luther,” 318. 52  Ibid. 53  On the Kirchentage see Maser, “Mit Luther,” 338–381; Dohle, “Die LutherEhrung,” 77–84. 54  Maser, “Mit Luther,” 355. 55  Ibid., 358. 56  Ibid., 360. 57  Ibid., 363. 58  On the Wittenberg Kirchentag see Annette Hildebrandt and Lothar Tautz, Protestanten in Zeiten des Kalten Krieges: Der Wittenberger Kirchentag zum Lutherjubliäum 1983 in Fokus der Staatssicherheit (Halle (Saale): Mitteldeutscher Verlag, 2017).

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Wittenberg Kirchentag represented a “breach of all the assurances given in the Luther year… and the worst Kirchentag of all.”59 Luther, now seen as a young rebel against a powerful ideological institution, following “his conscience rather than the official doctrines” (in the words of Erich Honecker in Lutherische Monatshefte quoted earlier), took on quite a different connotation from that of a forerunner of the emerging socialist German nation. Meanwhile, the new interest shown by the SED in the life and work of Luther also faced critique within church circles, such as by Edelbert Richter, the student pastor in Naumburg and co-founder of a peace group there, pointing to the use by the state of the conservative elements of Luther’s theology, such as the Lutheran work ethic, respect for authority, and sense of duty. “If official Marxism paradoxically discovers and propagates the conservative elements of the Protestant legacy,” stated Richter, “then is not Protestantism challenged for its part to represent the critical intention of the original Marxism?”60 The general secretary of the Protestant student congregations in the GDR, Jens Langer, suggested in an article in a church newspaper that in the “Karl Marx Year,” the church should draw up its own “Theses on Karl Marx,” to parallel those of the state about Martin Luther.61 Even before the Luther commemoration of November 1983, it seems that the patience of the SED politburo was at an end. On 23 October 1983, the politburo adopted a decision about future policy vis-à-vis the church, aiming at reducing the space for churches to question state policy and at confining the role of the churches to “exclusively religious matters.”62 According to Horst Dohle, then a senior official in the office of the state secretary for church affairs, “Opportunities that appeared possible, at least to a limited extent, in the context of the Luther commemoration for a new beginning in society and for the opening up, even if only cautiously, of GDR society, which was becoming increasingly fossilized, were squandered or deliberately destroyed.”63

 Ibid., 364–365.  See Edelbert Richter, Christentum und Demokratie in Deutschland: Beiträge zur gestigen Vorbereitung der Wende in der DDR (Leipzig/Weimar: Kiepenheuer, 1991), 230. 61  Maser, “Mit Luther,” 276. 62  Horst Dohle, “Die Luther-Ehrung und die Kirchenpolitik der DDR,” in Dähn and Heise, eds, Luther und die DDR, 90. 63  Ibid., 90–91. 59 60

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Conclusions Reformation anniversaries “have always been indicators of the times in which they were celebrated,” writes Margot Kässmann. “In 1983 there was a kind of competition between East and West Germany over Luther’s legacy on the 500th anniversary of his birth. In the German Democratic Republic, Luther was no longer the lackey of princes but the representative of early bourgeois revolution.”64 The 1983 Luther jubilee was certainly a contested commemoration, not only between East and West but within the GDR—and within the SED itself. According to the Marxist historian Adolf Laube, while Honecker saw the Luther jubilee as being the high point of his political career, even if not all his wishes for 1983 were fulfilled, his political entourage included people who believed the churches were being given too much room for manoeuvre and who, by the beginning of 1984, became firmly convinced that the Luther commemoration was one of the greatest mistakes of the Honecker era.65 According to Laube: There are indications that suggest that from 1983 onwards there was serious criticism within the party and state leadership about the increased influence in society of the churches in the GDR, for which the Luther commemoration and Erich Honecker were held responsible. [Honecker] had fallen into the role of a sorcerer’s apprentice who was not able to rid himself of the spirits he had conjured up.66

As such, the Luther commemoration offers an example of the GDR seen as a “contested dictatorship,” where “what looks from the outside like a rational, systematic process of policy initiation and delivery is often the outcome of heavily contested interests” existing “among key figures and institutions in the dictatorship, but not against the regime itself.”67 Neither the GDR’s new approach to German history in general nor to Martin Luther in particular succeeded in creating an all-embracing “sense of identity” of the population of the GDR with their putative “socialist 64  Margot Kässmann, “Commemorating the Reformation in 2017,” Ecumenical Review 69:2 (July 2017), 145. 65  “Interview with Adolf Laube,” 275. 66  Martin Roy, Luther in der DDR: Zum Wandel des Lutherbildes in drt DDRGeschichtschreibung (Bochum: Winkler-Verlag, 2000), 273, cited in Maser, “Mit Luther” 421. 67  Mike Dennis and Jonathan Grix, Sport under Communism: Behind the East German ‘Miracle’ (Basingstoke, U.K.: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012), 4.

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homeland.” Moreover, the Luther commemoration of 1983 in the GDR had only limited success in consolidating the GDR’s international standing, and in incorporating Protestantism into the strengthening of the state at home and abroad. Instead, the Luther commemoration became a focus for the contested relationship of cooperation and competition between church and state that would continue throughout the 1980s, with church structures increasingly serving as a framework for challenging the state authority of the GDR, until the GDR itself was engulfed by what has been called a “Protestant Revolution” in 1989.

CHAPTER 5

Freedom from the Law: From Luther to Agamben Craig A. Phillips

Anyone who can judge rightly between the law and the Gospel should thank God and know that he is a true theologian. —Martin Luther, “Commentary on Galatians,” 2:14 (Martin Luther, “Lectures on Galatians” (1535), Chapters 1–4 in Luther’s Works (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 1963), 26:3–11)

St. Paul’s reflections on law and its role in life and human flourishing in the world play a central role in the writings of both Martin Luther and Giorgio Agamben. There is as wide a difference between these two figures chronologically as there is in content of their writings. Luther was a sixteenth-­century theologian who read Paul theologically. Agamben is a twenty-first-century continental philosopher who reads Paul philosophically. So, what do these two figures have in common, other than that Paul is central to their respective projects? The answer lies in that they both

C. A. Phillips (*) Virginia Theological Seminary, Arlington, VA, USA © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 G. Mannion et al. (eds.), Ecumenical Perspectives Five Hundred Years After Luther’s Reformation, Pathways for Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-68360-3_5

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attempt to find genuine freedom from law. For Luther, it was a theological discussion articulating the freedom of the Christian from the Jewish law (Torah) promulgated in the Hebrew Bible and from the laws of the Church that impinged on the genuine freedom of the Christian. For Agamben, it is a philosophical discussion aiming at the dissolution of law in contemporary human political life.1 Luther’s spiritual awakening and the beginnings of his new hermeneutical key to the scriptures began during the time he worked through the Latin Vulgate, preparing lectures for his students at the University of Wittenberg on the Psalms (1513–1515), St. Paul’s letter to the Romans (1515–1516), and the letter to the Galatians (1516–1517). A decisive moment occurred for Luther when, in the library of his cloister, he wrestled with the Latin text of Romans 1:17: iustus autem ex fide vivit. “Moreover, the righteous shall live through faith.”2 Luther wrote: I began to understand that the righteousness of God [justitia Dei] is that by which the righteous live by a gift of God, that is, by faith, and that the Gospel reveals that a merciful God justifies us by faith with a passive righteousness, as it is written, “The righteous shall live through faith.” This made me feel as if I had been born again and passed through the open doors of paradise itself. All of Scripture appeared different and I then began to love that term I used to hate, “the righteousness of God” [justitia Dei], as the sweetest of all. Thus, Paul truly became my gateway to Paradise.3

The doors opened for Luther, and he found himself in a new space in which he had moved beyond what he perceived as bondage under the law to a place of grace, a place of freedom from the law. Contrast Luther’s experience with these words of Agamben: One day humanity will play with law just as children play with disused objects, not in order to restore them to their canonical use but to free them from it for good. What is found after the law is not a more proper and original use value that precedes the law, but a new use that is born only after it. And use, which has been contaminated by law, must also be freed from its 1  The examination of the reformation of law in religion and in political life is particularly relevant in 2017 as we commemorate the 500th anniversary of Luther’s protest, itself one of many so-called reformations that took place between 1450 and 1650 in Europe. 2  Carlos M. N. Eire, Reformations: The Early Modern World, 1450–1650 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2016), 145. 3  Eire, Reformations, 145. See also Preface to Latin Writings in D. Martin Luthers Werke: Kritische Gesamtausgabe, 73 vols. (H. Böhlau, 1883–2009), 54:185.

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own value. This liberation is the task of study, or of play. And this studious play is the passage that allows us to arrive at that justice that one of [Walter] Benjamin’s posthumous fragments defines as a state of the world in which the world appears as a good that absolutely cannot be appropriated or made juridical.4

In contrast to Luther, the door Agamben opens enters a space in which law is made inoperative, such that it can be repurposed for human “good.” This chapter will be divided into two main parts. In the first part, I will examine how Agamben, in the development of his non-theological political and social theory, employs Pauline messianism to make law inoperative, such that it can be restored to its common use in the plane of social and political praxis.5 Law in its deconstructed state, for Agamben, will no longer have transcendental or meta-normative foundations, but rather will exist in a state of pure potentiality, either to be or not to be. In the second part, I will examine the accuracy of Simon Critchley’s negative assessment of Agamben’s messianism, its relationship to law, and its utilization in Agamben’s larger political and philosophical project.6 I will assess Critchley’s analysis of the political reasons for the contemporary “return to Paul” as it relates to the work of Giorgio Agamben. The work of Martin Luther, and his influential interpretation of Paul as a theologian of freedom from the law, provides a background that augments Critchley’s critique of Agamben’s secular messianism. Finally, I will contrast the passive righteousness that Luther finds in Christian freedom with the freedom Agamben finds in law that has been made inoperative. For Luther and Agamben the way to genuine freedom is not through action, but through inaction.

4  Giorgio Agamben, State of Exception (Homo Sacer II.1), trans. Kevin Attell (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2005), 64. See Walter Benjamin, “Notizen zu einer Arbeit über die Kategorie der Gerechtigkeit.” Mit einem Kommentar von Hermann Schweppenhäuser, Frankfurter Adorno Blätter IV. (München: Edition Text + Kritik, 1992), 4l. 5  Giorgio Agamben, The Time that Remains: A Commentary on the Letter to the Romans (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2005). See also Craig A. Phillips, “Theo-political Visions: Post-secular Politics and Messianic Discourse,” Ecclesiology 10 (2014): 337–354; and Craig A. Phillips, “The Reign of God and the Church: Giorgio Agamben’s Messianic Critique of the Church” in Mark Chapman, ed. Hope in the Ecumenical Future (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2017), 63–81. 6  Simon Critchley, The Faith of the Faithless: Experiments in Political Theology (London: Verso Books, 2012).

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Agamben and Inoperativeness [inoperosità] In Agamben’s writings, his literary, historical, philosophical, anthropological, epistemological, political, theological, ethical, philological, and aesthetic approaches are arrayed side by side. They are employed interchangeably in a multi-dimensional manner that allows the development of a plurality of understandings. Issues raised in one study become paradigms that, when transferred to a different field of inquiry, reveal the limitations of thought and the historically constructed boundaries that constrain it. A central concept in Agamben’s work is potentiality and its opposite, inoperativeness [inoperosità]. Leland de la Durantaye observes that “no single term in Agamben’s writing is so easy to misunderstand as inoperativeness.”7 English translators of Agamben have variously rendered the term as “inoperativity,” “inoperability,” or “inactivity.” 8 Inoperativeness does not mean that something has broken down or needs to be fixed. Rather, it refers to the other side of potentiality, that something might not be or that it might be wholly other.9 Inoperativeness makes something inactive so that it can be repurposed for use outside of its original context. Employing this concept, for example, Agamben takes theological texts and ideas and makes them inactive or inoperative by removing references to transcendent being (God) so that the ideas can then be put to different use in his philosophical/political writings. This methodology explains how Agamben’s study of the way in which Pauline messianism enacts a radical deactivation of the law can be used as a paradigm in his own related studies of law and life. Paul’s messianism suggests how law, made inoperative, points to a not-yet state in which law might be restored to its common use in the plane of social and political praxis. For Agamben, law in its inoperative state will no longer have 7  Leland de la Durantaye, Giorgio Agamben: A Critical Introduction (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2009), 18. 8  Sergei Prozorov, Agamben and Politics: A Critical Introduction (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2014), 33. Inoperosità, Prozorov notes, is most often translated as inoperativity. This translation, however, is not employed consistently. It is translated, for example, as inoperativeness in Giorgio Agamben, Homo Sacer: Sovereign Power and Bare Life, trans. Daniel Heller-Roazen (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1998), 61; as inactivity in Giorgio Agamben, State of Exception, 64, and as inoperability in Giorgio Agamben, Means without End: Notes on Politics, trans. Vincenzo Binetti and Cesare Casarino (Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 2000), 141. 9  Durantaye, Giorgio Agamben, 19–20.

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transcendental or meta-normative foundations, but will exist rather in a state of pure potentiality because in its inactive state it will no longer have any power or force behind it. This state of potentiality is reflected in the passage from State of Exception, cited earlier in this chapter: “One day humanity will play with law just as children play with disused objects, not in order to restore them to their canonical use but to free them from it for good.” This state of non-juridical justice will provide the “passage” to “a state of the world in which the world appears as a good.”10 A standard English translation of Romans 7:6 reads: “But now we are discharged from the law (κατηργήθημεν ἀπὸ τοῦ νόμου), dead to that which held us captive, so that we are slaves not under the old written code but in the new life of the Spirit” (NRSV). In his analysis of Romans 7:6, Agamben translates καταργέω (katargeō) as “I make inoperative, I deactivate, I suspend the efficacy.”11 Agamben presents the Messianic in Paul as the time in which the law has been made inoperative or rendered inactive. He links the Pauline καταργέω with the “state of exception” first articulated by the German political theorist Carl Schmitt, who in the 1920s famously argued that “all significant concepts of the modern theory of the state are secularized theological concepts.”12 Schmitt defined the “Sovereign” as “he who decides on the exception [to the law].”13 Agamben reads Schmitt through the lens of Walter Benjamin, who in response to Schmitt and the 1939 signing of the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact asserted that the “state of exception” had become permanent.14 Agamben interprets Paul’s deactivation of the law by use of the καταργέω in Romans 7:5–6 and by his repetitive use of ὡς μὴ—the “as not” clauses— in 1 Cor. 7:29–31, as a “state of exception” to the Mosaic law, such that the law is suspended and no longer remains in force.15 Agamben writes:  Agamben, State of Exception, 64.  Agamben, The Time that Remains, 95. 12  Carl Schmitt, Political Theology: Four Chapters on the Concept of Sovereignty, trans. George D. Schwab (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1985), 36. 13  Schmitt, Political Theology, 5. 14  The non-aggression pact between Germany and the Soviet Union was signed on August 23, 1939. See Walter Benjamin, “On the Concept of History,” in Selected Writings, ed. Howard Eiland and Michael W. Jennings, 1938–1940 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2003), 4:389–400. 15  See 1 Cor. 7:29–31: “[The] appointed time has grown short; from now on, let even those who have wives be as though they had none, and those who mourn as though they were not mourning, and those who rejoice as though they were not rejoicing, and those who 10 11

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In defining the messianic kingdom with the terms of Schmitt’s theory of sovereignty, Benjamin appears to establish parallelism between the arrival of the Messiah and the limit concept of State power. In the days of the Messiah, which are also “the ‘state of exception’ in which we live,” the hidden foundation of the law comes to light, and the law itself enters into a state of perpetual suspension. In establishing this analogy, Benjamin does nothing other than bring a genuine messianic tradition to the most extreme point of its development. The essential character of messianism may well be precisely its particular relation to the law.16

What, for Agamben, are the fundamental features of the law in the state of exception? First, Agamben maintains, there is an absolute indeterminacy between the inside and the outside. There is no outside to the law. Second, it becomes impossible to distinguish between the observance and the transgression of the law. Third, the law no longer has the form of proscription or prohibition. It thus becomes impossible to know or differentiate between the licit and the illicit.17 Applying these features to his analysis of the Pauline state of exception from the law, Agamben writes: “In his rendering of the messianic condition of the believer, Paul radicalizes the condition of the state of exception, whereby law is applied in disapplying itself, no longer having an inside and an outside.”18 This paradoxical state of the law in the state of exception, Paul calls “the law of faith.” Messianic katargesis makes the law inoperative “through the law of faith” (“διὰ νόμου πίστεως”) (Rom 3:27) while at the same time bringing it to fulfillment. This observance of the law without the law, then, in this state of fulfillment is what Paul in Romans 3:21 calls “the righteousness of God apart from the law” (χωρὶς νόμου δικαιοσύνη θεοῦ).

buy as though they had no possessions, and those who deal with the world as though they had no dealings with it. For the present form of this world is passing away.” 16  Giorgio Agamben, Potentialities: Collected Essays in Philosophy (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1999), 162. 17  Agamben, The Time that Remains, 105–106. 18  Agamben, The Time that Remains, 106–107.

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Luther and the Continued Presence of the Law Agamben’s tendency to focus on the suspension and fulfillment of the law, however, tends to minimize the continued presence of the form of the law, even in its absence, that provides the contours of the meaning of freedom from the law. For Paul and his later interpreter, Martin Luther, the content of Christian freedom from the law made little sense without the continual presence of its dialectical partner, the law, even if the law were suspended and obedience to it is no longer required. The people of Luther’s day had been taught that the duty of the Christian was to obey religious customs and laws and to perform good deeds pleasing to God so that they might earn the rewards promised by their religion. Luther, understanding grace to be a gift from God, sought to separate religion from morality, but that was difficult for the people to understand. “Separating religion from morality,” as Scott Hendrix helpfully observes in his one-volume biography of Luther, “was Luther’s revolutionary innovation and simultaneously the reason why he was often misunderstood and rejected.”19 Although Luther rejected religion based on law, he nonetheless understood that the contours of Christian freedom could not be articulated apart from the law. Commenting on the sixth chapter of Romans, Luther demonstrated this complex dialectic between the law and freedom: [We] are under20 grace and not under law. [St. Paul] himself explains what this means. To be without the law is not the same thing as to have no laws and to be able to do what one pleases. Rather we are under the law when, without grace, we occupy ourselves with the works of the law. Then sin certainly rules [us] through the law, for no one loves the law by nature; and that is great sin. Grace, however, makes the law dear to us; then sin is no longer present, and the law is no longer against us but one with us. This is the true freedom from sin and from the law. He writes about this down to the end of the chapter, saying that it is a freedom only to do the Good with pleasure and to live well without the compulsion of the law. Therefore this freedom is a spiritual freedom, which does not overthrow the law but presents what the law demands, namely, pleasure [in the law] and love [for it] whereby the law is quieted and no longer drives men or makes demands of them.… Our freedom is, therefore, no carefree fleshly freedom

 Hendrix, 233.  See Lull, 104, n. 4, “Editions prior to 1546 read ‘in’ rather than ‘under.’”

19 20

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which is not obligated to do anything. Rather, it is a freedom that does many works of all kinds. It is free of the demands and obligations of the law.21

When freedom is articulated as freedom from something else, then the content of that freedom becomes visible. Pure freedom on its own can only be an empty abstraction. Luther understood that gospel freedom could release people from the demands of law and open paths for living well “without the compulsions of the law,” but still he had to make reference to the law as distinct from Christian freedom in order to make those paths evident.

Simon Critchley on Agamben In Faith of the Faithless: Experiments in Political Theology, Simon Critchley confronts Agamben’s interpretation of Pauline messianism with the criticism that it is both radically dualist and antinomian, such that it might be labeled “crypto-Marcionite in its emphasis on a radically antinomian conception of faith.”22 The most salient points of Critchley’s critique for our purposes are, first, that Agamben finds in Paul a pure originary faith, entirely removed from the law, robbing it of the very dialectical tension that gives full meaning to faith, and, second, that Agamben correlates the political “state of exception” with the messianic katargesis itself. This is an interesting charge, not because Agamben can legitimately be charged with Christian heresy, but because for Critchley it reveals the naiveté of Agamben’s thought and its implications for social and political theory. The tension between the law and its Pauline katargesis is nowhere more evident than in Romans 7 where Paul maintains a conflicted relationship to the law, from the observance of which by his own words he was so

21  Martin Luther, “Preface to the Epistle of St. Paul to Romans (1522, Revised 1546)” in Timothy Lull, ed., Martin Luther’s Basic Theological Writings, 2nd edition (Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg Fortress, 2005), 98–107. See 104. 22  Critchley, Faith of the Faithless, 199. Marcion asserted that the God who created the heavens and the earth as described in the book of Genesis is not identical with the God revealed in Jesus Christ. His scriptural canon consisted solely of a reduced number of Pauline epistles and one gospel, a version of Luke with all references to the prophets and the Old Testament expurgated from it.

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recently discharged.23 For Paul, there is no escape from the law. The law is deactivated by faith in Jesus Christ, but that does not mean that the law disappears entirely from sight. The law is propaedeutic. It brings an awareness of sin and human fallibility, without which the overcoming of it by faith in Jesus Christ would make no sense, or at the least would be extremely hollow.24 Critchley offers the following summary of Agamben’s interpretation of the Pauline katargeo and its role in Agamben’s messianic suspension of law: Agamben implicitly links katargeo to the state of exception in Schmitt, where the sovereign is he who suspends the operation of the law. Agamben characterizes the Messianic as a lawlessness that, in a sovereign political act, suspends the legality and legitimacy of both Rome and Jerusalem. He backs this up with a willful reading of the idea of the figure of anomos or lawlessness in Second Thessalonians. To my mind, it is more than simply arguable that Paul’s reference to the “mystery of lawlessness” refers back to the “son of perdition,” the Anti-Christ, who will appear prior to the parousia of the Messiah (2 Thess. 2:3–7). But Agamben wants to identify lawlessness with the Messianic in order to radicalize the distinction between law and life, a Benjaminian theme present throughout Agamben’s writings.”25

Critchley takes issue here with Agamben’s identification of the “mystery of lawlessness” with the order of the Messianic rather than with the figure of the “man of lawlessness,” an anti-God figure of some type sharing features with the later figure of the Anti-Christ (ἀντίχριστος) in the Johannine Epistles.26 For the Thessalonians, the power of evil was all around them and the evil of the future was already at work proleptically in their midst.27 For Critchley, it seems evident that the “mystery of lawlessness” which Paul describes as “already at work” in the world refers to “man of lawlessness” and not to the Pauline katargesis, or “state of exception,” which Agamben takes as paradigmatic for the Messianic order. This argument is complicated by the fact that the “man of lawlessness” is being held back 23  See Romans 7:6, “But now we are discharged from the law, dead to that which held us captive, so that we are slaves not under the old written code but in the new life of the Spirit.” 24  See Critchley, Faith of the Faithless, 203–206. 25  Critchley, Faith of the Faithless, 199–200. 26  See 1 John 2:18, 22; 4:3; 2 John 7. 27  Abraham J.  Malherbe, The Letters to the Thessalonians: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, The Anchor Bible, Volume 32B (New York: Doubleday, 1964), 432.

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by an impersonal force—“that which restrains” (2 Thess. 2:6) and the personal force—“the one who restrains” (2 Thess. 2:7), the identity of which remains unclear.28 “And you know what is now restraining him (τὸ κατέχον), so that he may be revealed when his time comes. For the mystery of lawlessness is already at work, but only until the one who now restrains it (ὁ κατέχων) is removed” (2 Thess. 2:6–7). An early Christian tradition found in Tertullian (ca. 155–240 CE) proposed that the force restraining the arrival of the end time was the Roman Empire. “This tradition,” Agamben observes, “culminates in the Schmittian theory that finds in 2 Thessalonians the only possible foundation for a Christian doctrine of State power.”29 He continues: “In a certain sense every theory of the State, including Hobbes’s—which thinks of it as a power destined to block or delay catastrophe—can be taken as a secularization of this interpretation of 2 Thessalonians 2.”30 For Agamben, the Schmittian notion of the state as the restrainer that holds back the end of the world must be rejected. “The end of time,” Agamben notes, “can take place at any instant and the State not only does not act as a katechōn, but in fact coincides with the very eschatological beast which must be annihilated at the end of time.”31 What is most problematic in Agamben’s description of the Messianic, as Critchley also notes, is Agamben’s tendentious identification of the katecho ̄n with anomos (lawlessness) such that “they are not conceived as two separate figures… but as one single power before and after the final unveiling.” The katechōn then, according to Agamben is “the force—the Roman Empire as well as every constituted authority—that clashes with and hides katargesis, the state of tendential lawlessness that characterizes the messianic, and, in this sense, delays the unveiling of the ‘mystery of lawlessness.’”32 In contrast to Agamben’s antinomian interpretation of the Pauline katargesis, it is difficult to imagine that Paul would connect 28  Much to our modern consternation and confusion, Paul reminds his original audience, “Do you not remember that I told you these things when I was still with you?” (2 Thess. 2:5). For a useful summary of theories concerning the identity of the person or force that restrains, see Abraham J.  Malherbe, The Letters to the Thessalonians, 432–433. See also Agamben, Stasis: Civil War as Political Paradigm (Homo Sacer II.2), trans. Nicholas Heron (Palo Alto: Stanford University Press, 2015), 64–66. 29  Agamben, The Time that Remains, 109. 30  Agamben, The Time that Remains, 110. 31  Agamben, Stasis, 67. See 2 Thessalonians 2:6–7. 32  Agamben, The Time that Remains, 111.

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freedom from the law, in any way shape or form, to the “lawlessness” referred to in 2 Thessalonians 2. Agamben’s interpretation of the Pauline katargesis, as a sort of “state of exception” to the law, as Critchley argues, radicalizes the distinction between law and life,” or what Agamben calls “law in its nonrelation to life and life in its nonrelation to law.”33 Critchley writes: There are moments when Agamben seems to want to push Benjamin’s Messianism towards a radical dualism of, on the one hand, the profane order of the created world and, on the other hand, the Messianic order of redemption. … But this is Marcion, not Paul.34

Agamben’s interpretation of Paul, which valorizes faith over law and radically separates the profane from the Messianic order, Critchley argues, is a form of “Marcionism” that “has to be refused.” He writes: The idea that religion consists in faith alone… has an undeniable power. It is the power of radical novelty, of an absolute or pure beginning. … Its dualism leads to a rejection of the world and a conception of religion as a retreat from creation. At its most extreme it encourages a politics of secession from a terminally corrupt world.35

Critchley continues with what I take to be a direct impeachment of Agamben’s profane messianism for its non-dialectical character: If we throw out the Old Testament, then we imagine ourselves perfected, without stain or sin. If we were ever to attain such a state, faith would mean nothing. Faith is only possible as the counter-movement to law and the two terms of the movement exist in a permanent dialectic. There is no absolute beginning and the idea of life without a relation to law is a purist and slightly puerile dream.36

To be fair to Agamben, it is important first to identify the philosophical and political concerns that occupy Critchley. Critchley wants to establish a credible faith for the faithless, or, what he calls “faith of the faithless” and  Agamben, State of Exception, 88.  Critchley, Faith of the Faithless, 200. 35  Critchley, Faith of the Faithless, 202. 36  Critchley, Faith of the Faithless, 203. 33 34

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a “belief of unbelievers.”37 Critchley is exploring ways to bring together people who are demotivated and cynical about politics in general (i.e., having a certain lack of faith in the political) by developing a “motivating and authorizing faith” capable of forming solidarities in specific sites or localities.38 “This faith of the faithless,” however, “cannot have for its object anything external to the self or subject, any external, divine command, any transcendent reality.”39 In other words, Critchley is seeking to develop a secular, non-theological faith that can ground or provide a foundation for political action in the present. To accomplish this Critchley engages other philosophers who have turned to the writings of Paul for inspiration, namely Martin Heidegger, Giorgio Agamben, Alain Badiou, and Slavoj Žižek. Agamben, in contrast to Critchley, is not seeking to establish foundations, but rather to uproot them in order to show their potential to be and their potential not to be. Agamben’s philosophy, therefore, might be described as one of inaction, or more precisely, of action within inaction. As to the charge of crypto-Marcionism, we do find in Agamben’s reflections on the Pauline texts a more radical dichotomy between law and the messianic deactivation of the law than perhaps we find in the writing of Paul himself. Generally speaking, Critchley seems to fault Agamben for the lack of a more balanced dialectic between law and faith, but it is not the case that a dialectical understanding is absent in Agamben’s analysis, as Critchley seems to assert. Agamben explicitly recognizes that “Messianic katargesis does not merely abolish; it preserves and brings to fulfillment.”40 As a gloss on this point, Agamben notes that Martin Luther employed the double meaning of Aufhebung as both “abolishing and conserving” (aufbewahren and aufhören lassen) in his translation of the Pauline καταργήσις in Romans 3:31 of the 1545 Lutherbibel: “Heben wir denn das Gesetz auff / durch den glauben? Das sey ferne / sondern wir richten das Gesetz auff.” (“Do we then overthrow the law by this faith? By no means! On the contrary, we uphold the law.”)41  Critchley, Faith of the Faithless, 3.  Critchley, Faith of the Faithless, 4. 39  Critchley, Faith of the Faithless, 4. 40  Agamben, The Time that Remains, 99. Agamben, also, describes the origin of the Hegelian dialectic as “a secularization of Christian theology.” 41  Martin Luther, Biblia das ist/Die gantze Heilige Schrifft: Deudsch (Wittenberg: Hans Lufft, 1545). See Romans 3:31: “νόμον οὖν καταργοῦμεν διὰ τῆς πίστεως; μὴ γένοιτο·ἀλλὰ νόμον ἱστάνομεν.” 37 38

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The Return to Paul Finally, it is useful to reflect briefly on Critchley’s assessment of the political reasons for the contemporary “return to Paul,” particularly as it relates to the work of Giorgio Agamben. Critchley argues that the “return to Paul” in contemporary philosophy and political theory is indicative of a desire within secular philosophy for a reformation of the social and political order. The contemporary “return to Paul,” he says, is nothing new in European thought. Paul has been revisited many times within the history of Christianity: in, for example, Marcion, Augustine of Hippo, Luther, Kierkegaard, von Harnack, Barth, and Bultmann. The “return to Paul,” he says, can be understood, “as a gesture of reformation whereby the essentially secular order of the existing or established church is undermined in order to approach the religious core of faith.”42 Critchley writes: If Paul’s essence consists in anything, then it is surely activism. This spells trouble for any and every church that sees itself as founded, funded, and well-defended. What usually happens when Paul is invoked is that the established church is declared to be the Whore of Babylon and its hierarchy the Anti-Christ. The fact that there is so much interest in Paul at present shouldn’t therefore be seen as a conservative gesture or some sort of return to traditional religion. On the contrary, the return to Paul is the demand for reformation. It is the demand for a new figure of activism, or what Alain Badiou calls a new militancy for the universal in an age defined by moral relativism, a communitarian politics of identity, and global capitalism. What is being glimpsed and groped towards in the return to Paul is a vision of faith and existential commitment that might begin to face and face down the demotivated slackening of existence under conditions of liberal democracy. The return to Paul is motivated by political disappointment.43

Although Critchley’s observations about Paul and activism may be true of the work of Badiou and Žižek, it is not clear that they apply fully to Agamben’s writings on Paul. Thanos Zartaloudis helpfully reminds us that, “What is at stake in reading Agamben’s writings, is an experience of

 Critchley, Faith of the Faithless, 13.  Critchley, Faith of the Faithless, 157.

42 43

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reading and thinking as such, rather than the extraction of prescriptive arguments and conclusions.”44 Agamben investigates Paul not to found a secular faith, as in Critchley, but to provide passages to other interrelated studies of law and power in modern life. The messianic katargesis provides an instrument Agamben can use to break the power of law over life so as to open paths to new experiences and new potentialities in law, life, language, thought, and human praxis.

Conclusion This essay began with a contrast between what Luther and Agamben mean by freedom from the law. The essay focuses primarily on the way in which Giorgio Agamben, by recovering the messianic core of Paul’s deactivation of the law, envisions a world in which law might be made inactive or inoperative. The operative concept of “law,” of course, has different meanings in Paul and in Agamben. Where Paul seeks to make the Law of Moses inactive by the principle of grace, Agamben seeks a cessation of the law of the state and its concomitant sovereignty over human lives. The work of St. Paul is central to that of Luther, Agamben, and Critchley, each in its own way. Although Agamben and Critchley do not engage with Luther directly, they cannot interpret Paul without being influenced in some way by Luther’s application of the Pauline critique of the law of the Roman Catholic Church and by his demarcation of the proper role and operation of the law within the state. An engagement with Agamben’s project to make inoperative the sovereignty of law over life raises questions about what exactly Luther meant by the law within his own sixteenth-century context. In his 1535 commentary on Paul’s Epistle to the Galatians, Luther distinguishes among four different types of righteousness. There is “political righteousness,” “ceremonial righteousness,” and “the righteousness of the Law or of the Decalogue, which Moses teaches.” All three of these forms, Luther argues, “consist in our works and can be achieved by us with purely natural endowments (ex puris naturalibus), as the Scholastics teach, or from a gift of God.” “Over and above all these there is the righteousness of faith or Christian righteousness. This righteousness of faith,” 44  Thanos Zartaloudis, Giorgio Agamben: Power, Law and the Uses of Criticism (New York: Routledge, 2010), xiii.

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Luther asserts, “is to be distinguished most carefully from all the others.” The first three forms of righteousness enumerated by Luther are forms of a “righteousness of works,” while at the same time they are “gifts of God.” The righteousness of faith, by contrast, is imputed to human beings by God through Christ “without works,” and therefore is not political, ceremonial, legal, or works righteousness, but rather a “passive righteousness” where all the others are “active.”45 In this form of righteousness, “we work nothing, render nothing to God; we only receive and permit someone else to work in us, namely God.”46 “Therefore,” Luther concludes, “it is appropriate to call the righteousness of faith or Christian righteousness, ‘passive’.”47 In his commentary on Galatians, Luther indirectly identifies three types of law each corresponding to a particular form of righteousness, namely the political, the ceremonial, and the legal. For Luther, it was possible for each of these forms of the law to make legitimate claims on the Christian. Luther’s new understanding of “Christian righteousness,” however, relativized these forms of righteousness, along with the forms of law that corresponded to each, such that he began to question the authority of the church and the state, and the legal code of the Law of Moses, over his life and the life of all Christians. The reformation that Luther started with the dissemination of the Ninety-five Theses was not yet the “Reformation” so-­ called, yet it began with a vision of Christian freedom, a fourth kind of righteousness, that is, a passive righteousness that was not accomplished by work or human activity, but solely through the grace of God given as a gift and not as a reward or payment for work or activity. Luther and Agamben both rely on the messianic structure of Paul’s writings, in which the confining strictures of law are replaced by grace, or freedom. For Luther, true freedom from the law meant moving beyond the requirements of the Law of Moses and the laws of the church, to a place of grace, a grace that could only be experienced as a gift from God, and not something that could be earned by obedience to any external authority. For Agamben, however, freedom from the law entails making the law inoperative such that it can be repurposed for human “good.” 45  Martin Luther, “Lectures on Galatians (1535)” in Lull, ed., Martin Luther’s Basic Theological Writings, 19. 46  Martin Luther, “Lectures on Galatians (1535)” in Lull, ed., Martin Luther’s Basic Theological Writings, 19. 47  Martin Luther, “Lectures on Galatians (1535)” in Lull, ed., Martin Luther’s Basic Theological Writings, 19.

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Where Luther speaks from within the perspective of Christian faith, Agamben speaks as a secular, political philosopher. In both cases, with the differences between their two projects noted, the way to genuine freedom is not through action, but inaction. For Agamben, the law can be overcome when we no longer engage with it. How Agamben thinks this might be accomplished is beyond the scope of this essay, but his appropriation of the messianic cessation of the law in the writings of Paul and the central role of inactivity in making the law inoperative, allows us to see more clearly the role of inactivity in the writings of Luther as a way of overcoming the hold that law has on human life and as a way of allowing us to envision a new space of grace and freedom.

CHAPTER 6

From Julius Evola to Anders Breivik: The Invented Tradition of Far-Right Christianity Theodore G. Dedon

Among various contemporary receptions of the Protestant Reformation, perhaps the most simplistic, distorted, and dangerous are those offered by various subgroups of the political far-right. Revolt against the modern world! Return to tradition! This time, the World!1 These are just several of 1  For an academic overview on this kind of thinking for traditionalists, see: Mark Sedgwick, Against the Modern World: Traditionalism and the Secret Intellectual History of the Twentieth Century (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009). This is the best book on the subject and still holds up well. For these particular slogans, see: Julius Evola, Revolt Against the Modern World (Rochester, VT: Inner Tradition Publishers, 1995); George Lincoln Rockwell, This Time, the World (Revisionist Books, 2018); “Return to Tradition” is a generic meme traditionalists and white supremacists use to agitate against modernism, liberalism, and

T. G. Dedon (*) Department of Theological and Religious Studies, Georgetown University, Washington, DC, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 G. Mannion et al. (eds.), Ecumenical Perspectives Five Hundred Years After Luther’s Reformation, Pathways for Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-68360-3_6

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the rallying cries of the far-right in the call to arms against modernity. The idea is simple: the modern world is secular, it is multicultural, it is liberal, and these things altogether have been globalized at the expense of tradition. To resist the globalization of modernity as such, one must revolt, return to, and defend tradition. This type of logic has been seen all throughout the world. From Recep Tayyip Erdoğan’s Islamism in Turkey to Narendra Modi’s Hindu nationalism in India to the Orthodox resurgence in Vladimir Putin’s Russia, we see all over this recovery of a traditional identity resisting liberalism, secularism, and globalization. Christians on the far-right, as a major example of this trend, often couple ethnic and national identity with their religious heritage. Indeed, commonly, they are integral to one another. Here we will attempt to uncover some of the various concerns and commitments of these nationalists and traditionalists as well as how they relate to the Christian tradition. We will also, after having examined several strands within this phenomenon, suggest briefly that theirs is largely a project committed not to the historical reality of Christianity, but to what Eric Hobsbawm called an invented tradition.2 Unmasking this distortion offers a unique opportunity wherein Protestants, Catholics, and other Christians can stand against the cooptation of Christianity for political ends. Ecumenically minded Christians have an opportunity to challenge these narratives while simultaneously upholding their respective traditions in more authentic ways. Since at least the liberal revolution of 1789 there has been a counterrevolutionary tendency to historicize the post-Reformation moment as the point of departure from tradition and orthodoxy in the West. Joseph de Maistre, followed by Juan Donoso Cortés, Carl Schmitt, Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira, and many others, situated the Reformation as the beginning of what James Simpson called the “Permanent Revolution.”3 globalism. It is used often online. For a recent treatment on the relationship between farright politics and Traditionalism, see: Benjamin R.  Teitelbaum, War for Eternity: Inside Bannon’s Far-Right Circle of Global Power Brokers (New York: Dey Street Books, 2020). This excellent book covers contemporary and global connections especially focusing on Steve Bannon and his relationship to Traditionalism. This text is especially good at explaining the impact (or lack of) Julius Evola had on Bannon’s general worldview. 2  Eric Hobsbawm, “Introduction: Inventing Traditions,” in The Invention of Tradition, ed. Hobsbawm and Ranger (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983; 21st edition, 2013). 3  James Simpson, Permanent Revolution: The Reformation and the Illiberal Roots of Liberalism (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2019). For a brief overview of this trend, see: Mikkel Thorup, “‘A World Without Substance’ Carl Schmitt and the Counter-

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Simpson explains that the Reformation, being anti-authoritarian in character and essence, was constantly seeking to disrupt past forms of legitimacy and authority which maintained order—ultimately with the intention of seeking a more-perfect understanding of order-itself. Grounded precisely on this viewpoint, the conservative anti-liberal counterrevolutionaries from the eighteenth-century onward sought to reestablish order-itself as imagined by the Catholic Church, but specifically based on the Catholic Church’s counter-Reformation and anti-modern positionality. Though both Protestants and Catholics alike have made tremendous gains in historical understanding within the ecumenical movement, this ideological tension remains present within a variety of narratives both explicit and implicit. If conservative counterrevolutionary philosophy holds the Reformation to be the breaking point wherein orderitself became disordered, the only choice for a counterrevolutionary is naturally to advocate for the return to pre-Reformation—or dare we say anti-Reformation—tradition. The idea of “returning to tradition” is certainly not new. Although this idea has once again become popularized by the global far-right, it was, as we are pointing out, central within the counterrevolutionary project historically. Today, there is a common trend among both nationalists and traditionalists who claim Christian heritage and identity to have a synthesized post-modern, individualistic interpretation which lauds the pre-­ Reformation past with the use of decontextualized symbolism, while utterly decoupled from tradition itself. These groups are, to use Eric Hobsbawm’s term, inventing tradition. Hobsbawm’s argument on nationalism is that it emerged out of the phenomenon of mass communication Enlightenment,” Distinktion 10 (2005), 20–26. For Joseph de Maistre and his historical outlook, see: Emile Perreau-Saussine, “Why Maistre became Ultramontane,” in Joseph de Maistre and the Legacy of Enlightenment, ed. Carolina Armenteros and Richard A. Lebrun (Oxford: Voltaire Foundation, University of Oxford, 2011), 147–59. See also: Juan Donoso Cortés, Essays in Catholicism, Liberalism, and Socialism: Considered in their Fundamental Principles, transl. William McDonald (CreateSpace Independent Publishing, 2017); Carl Schmitt, The Necessity of Politics: An Essay on the Representative Idea in the Church and Modern Europe (Essays in Order) (Volume 5), transl. Christopher Dawson (CreateSpace Independent Publishing, 2017); and especially Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira, Revolution and Counter-revolution (The American TFP, Third Edition, 2008). These thinkers, it must be noted, are not like contemporary racist traditionalists. They are much more focused on the problems internal to Catholicism, the spread of liberalism as a vehicle for modernity, and the question of Order-itself; not about the supremacy of specific races or a Christianized hierarchy which justifies them.

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combined with the high culture of elites. He believes that the very traditions espoused by the high culture elites are oftentimes or even normatively fake, or invented. He says, “inventing traditions… is essentially a process of formalization and ritualization, characterized by reference to the past, if only by imposing rejection.”4 This is frequently done in an effort to create a sentiment of camaraderie between the populus and the intended national project for reasons of statecraft. Hobsbawm says, “the very appearance of movements for the defence or revival of traditions, ‘traditionalist’ or otherwise, indicates such a break [from reality]. Such movements, common among intellectuals since the Romantics, can never develop or even preserve a living past (except conceivably by setting up human natural sanctuaries for isolated corners of archaic life), but must become ‘invented tradition’. On the other hand, the strength and adaptability of genuine traditions is not to be confused with the ‘invention of tradition’. Where the old ways are alive, traditions need be neither revived nor invented.”5 In our age, the old ways are not alive. Thus, traditions are being revived and invented. Since the period of the industrial revolution, says Hobsbawm, several overlapping features have become present with the invention of tradition. They are: (1) those who establish symbolic social cohesion to members of the artificial community; (2) those who establish or legitimate institutions and their connection to the dominance hierarchy; (3) those whose main purpose was the socialization of the population intended to invent the tradition for—which includes the inculcation of beliefs, values systems, and conventions of behavior.6 With respect to the first point, in our globalized era the artificial community for whom this symbolic social cohesion can be established is online or digital. With respect to the second point, it is less about the cooptation of existing institutions—such as the Catholic Church or any mainline Protestant Church—as much as it is about creating para-social movements online and in person referencing said churches and institutions. With respect to the third, it is about the socialization of the given population through radicalization, often with resulting violence and terrorism. To be clearer, those who seek to 4  Eric Hobsbawm, “Introduction: Inventing Traditions,” in The Invention of Tradition, edited by Eric Hobsbawm and Terence Ranger (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983; 21st edition, 2013), 4. 5  Eric Hobsbawm, The Invention of Tradition, 7–8. 6  Ibid., 9.

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instrumentalize Christianity to promote far-right political projects are inventing and reimagining the tradition of Christianity through these means in an effort to achieve political ends. They are, in other words, rejecting the historical and traditional Christianity—and, indeed, the institutions which represent them. In the examples we will explore many of these people look to Christianity to do one specific thing: legitimize the idea of Aryan rule over Europe specifically and Aryan supremacy generally. Christianity and the usage of Christian history or symbolism is, in most every example, a secondary by-­ product. These people are using language and symbolism drawn from pre-­ Reformation Christianity, possibly taking what might seem to be a pro-Catholic or in other examples pro-Orthodox stance, to defend something which was not present pre-Reformation at all. Their concerns, as we will see, are rooted not in a return to Christianity or even necessarily a protection of Christianity whatsoever. Rather, they are rooted in a resistance to liberal modernity, mass immigration and multiculturalism, the spread of Islam into Europe or the West, and the general trends of globalization which have disrupted European hegemony. This particular phenomenon, both because it is amorphous and because these people are not necessarily connected with each other, presents a unique obstacle—one which is in fact not traditional at all. In no way can we look at this as a Protestant, Catholic, or Orthodox phenomenon; rather, it presents a unique ecumenical opportunity to respond to those who instrumentalize and weaponize the past with renewed attention to the historical tradition.

Revolt Against the Modern World! The “Christianity” of Christian Identitarianism That the far-right in Europe and America are influenced by Christianity is of no debate. Virtually everyone understands that Christianity has something to do with far-right politics and movements. But what does that mean, when the entire fabric of the liberal world order is underpinned by Christian roots and Christianity is a global, non-white religion? The counterrevolutionary of today is rooted specifically in resistance against liberal hegemony, whether they themselves are Catholic, Protestant, secular, or consciously non-Christian. Where the counterrevolutionary of the prewar era was focused primarily on defense of tradition, hierarchy, obedience to that hierarchy, and a loyalty to their nation or church, the

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counterrevolutionary commitments of today are simultaneously both more universal and more idiosyncratic. On the one hand, they are often not really tied to a particular historical tradition. On the other hand, the far-right counterrevolutionary of today has little in common with their political compatriots because the Church no longer has the influence it once had, nor does the individual nation-state in the broader international system. Instead, the counterrevolutionary is rooted in their individual interpretation of the problems but held to a sometimes even larger or more expanded universalism of race, religion, or geographical space. What this means is that rather than the competitive nationalisms of, for example, the Franco-Prussian War, there is the white race against others; where there was once a stronger combat between Catholics and Protestants, there is now Christianity against all others; or where there was once a stronger conflict between nation-states, there is, to use Samuel Huntington’s words, “the West versus the Rest.”7 This kind of dual individualization and universalization of the far-right’s concerns is rooted, it seems, in not only the inheritance of the Catholic counterrevolution, but of the Reformation and the liberalism it produced. It is a truly modern phenomenon, making it altogether more ironic that one of the central commitments of these far-right counterrevolutionaries fits under the slogan “revolt against the modern world!” The key strategy employed by far-right extremists, says Franco Ferraresi, is the “doctrine of tension.”8 This doctrine of tension is explained by 7  Samuel Huntington, The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1996), 52–54. Huntington makes a compelling point with an analysis of popular literature in the post-Cold War world. Using Lexis/Nexis he catalogued how in 1988 the New York Times, Washington Post, and Congressional Records all shifted dramatically by 1993 in their description of us versus them. Where in 1988 the term “Free World” was generically used to mean us, by 1993 it was overwhelmingly switched to “The West.” What this demonstrated to Huntington was a switch from a geopolitical category to a civilizational category. Whereas before the term “Free World” implied that others were not free, the terminology of the West does no such thing. It only merely implies there is something other-than the West and not necessarily what those other things are. Further, and even more interestingly, the distinction between Orthodox and Western civilization is of paramount importance, because he considers Orthodox civilization “distinct from Western Christendom,” broadly proving where his head is at when it comes to what the West is—it is a Christian Euro-American civilization which inherited its legacy from Rome but specifically not Eastern Rome. Indeed, he himself is telling us the important relationship of the concept of Christendom with “the West.” 8  Franco Ferraresi, Threats to Democracy: Radical Right in Italy After the War (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996).

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Bruce Hoffman as, “inciting violence and disorder so as to create the state of anarchy, from which public demand for the restoration of law and order will spring and enable the neo-fascists to assume power and govern Italy as a totalitarian state.”9 This strategy, while speaking of the particularly local Italian far-right fascism of the postwar era, has been noted to be global in scope—from Russia to the United States.10 The basic premise is an acceptance of the Hobbesian political contract: that in the state of nature, we are in a state of anarchy and that through the creation of the state, there is a semblance of order. The basic narrative which follows, therefore, is that the state of governance is fundamentally flawed and needs to be overturned to start fresh. As the state holds a monopoly on power and force, the only way to overthrow said system is to recreate the inherent anarchy in the state of nature. This narrative is the basic framework of most transnational or local far-right ideologies and is the justification for most political violence on the premises of said ideologies. But what shifts is the extra-cosmological narrative which gets grafted upon this Hobbesian framework. Apart from such a narrative, one could logically be an atheist, and even a racial egalitarian; in these cases, however, one usually is not. This is the point at which far-right counterrevolutionaries find Christianity useful. The racialized far-right usually falls into two camps which sometimes are synthesized into one: (1) that the Aryan race is in fact superior, and the state of governance around the world holds the race back from its true potential; and (2) that the Aryan race is not only superior and held back, but it is also ordained by God that the Aryan race rules supreme in national and global government as well as in nature. While initially, and in common public discourse, this European far-right has been relegated to a Christian type of extremism, such is not exactly the case. Far-right ideologies, especially in their wartime and postwar contexts, are reactions against Christianity’s and in particular Catholicism or liberal Protestantism’s universalism. These groups, such as ones to be examined below, were synthesized with Christian frameworks by more creative and strategic movements throughout the 1970s, looking to incorporate Christianity as a tool for recruitment. Here it is worth noting two historical currents and then their creative synthesis which is the basis for what Tore Bjørgo and Heléne  Bruce Hoffman, Right-Wing Terrorism in Europe (Rand Corporation, N-1856-AF).  Martin Laryš and Miroslav Mareš, “Right Wing Extremist Violence in the Russian Federation,” Europe-Asia Studies 63 (2011): 129–54. 9

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Lööw call, “the cult of violence” that characterizes the far-right in revolt against modernity.11 They are Traditionalism and the Christian Identity movement. A major historical, philosophical trend within the far-right is Traditionalism, as espoused by the Italian philosopher and esotericist Julius Evola (1898–1974). Evola’s system of thought, according to Franco Ferraresi was, “one of the most radical and consistent antiegalitarian, antiliberal, antidemocratic, and antipopular systems in the twentieth century. It is a singular (though not necessarily original) blend of several schools and traditions, including German idealism, Eastern doctrines, traditionalism, and the all-embracing Weltanschauung of the interwar konservativ Revolution with which Evola had a deep personal involvement.”12 Evola was admired by Heinrich Himmler and Benito Mussolini, both of whom he knew personally and very well. He himself, however, never could side with either the Italians or Germans, seeing himself above and beyond mere political fascism. He called himself a “superfascist,” which to him was critically different from wartime fascism: he was anti-statist and, instead, was pro-aristocracy and pro-monarchy, but also held a spirituality as the source of it all. Moreover, he saw a particular lacking in Mussolini’s state-­ worshipping fascism—what Luigi Sturzo called “statal monism”—as it was less focused on racialism and also less focused on spirituality.13 Racialism is, basically, the belief that the human species is divided into races which are their own distinct biological categories. W.E.B. Du Bois asserted that the term denotes the philosophical position that races actually exist biologically, and that there are collective differences in races as such. It is virtually a reaction against, but in fact precedes, the normative position that race is a social construct as human genetics has shown race to, colloquially, be skin-deep. Kwame Appiah believed that for Du Bois, the philosophical position of racialism is value-neutral, whereas racism is

11  Tore Bjørgo and Heléne Lööw, Racist Violence in Europe (London: MacMillan Press, 1993), 62. 12  Franco Ferraresi, Threats to Democracy: The Radical Right in Italy After the War (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2012), 44. 13  Luigi Sturzo, Nationalism and Internationalism (New York: Roy Publishers, 1946) 85–91. For Sturzo, “Statal Monism” applies to state-worship which manifests itself in the nation (Fascism), race (Nazism), and in class (Communism). This was a common argument for Catholic internationalists such as Sturzo and Jacques Maritain.

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value-charged.14 But the actual use of the term racialism by those who are proponents of this theory is synonymous with racism in the way understood by modern Western societies. For Evola, racialism was grounded in his theory of mystical aryanism, or the idea that not only is race a biological category, but it is also a spiritual category. Evola asserted the essential differences between races, both biologically and spiritually, was in the blood. He said, The factor of ‘blood’ or ‘race’ has its importance, because it is not psychologically—in the brain or the opinions of the individual—but in the very deepest forces of life that traditions live and act as typical formative energies. Blood registers the effects of this action, and indeed offers, through heredity, a matter that is already refined and pre-formed, such that through the generations, realisations similar to the original may be prepared and may be able to develop in a natural and almost spontaneous way.15

This theory of essential differences results, for Evola, in a racial and spiritual hierarchy which places the Aryan at the top and all else follows downward by degree. Evola developed a doctrine he called “the general objective law: the law of the regression of castes.”16 This doctrine was not simply his own invented tradition. It was a complete copy of the standard typology of the Bhagavad Gita, wherein, “the meaning of history from the most ancient times is this: the gradual decline of power and type of civilization from one to another of the four castes—sacred leaders, warrior nobility, bourgeoisie (economy, “merchants”) and slaves—which in the traditional civilizations corresponded to the qualitative differentiation in the principal human possibilities.”17 This typology, according to Evola, constituted the aristocracy of blood—the central idea behind the term “Aryan,” which denoted nobility, and in fact etymologically means nobility. The caste-nobility aspect of Evola’s philosophy was very popular during the Second World War, allowing him to find a home within the culture of Nazi Germany. Evola’s interest in Hinduism and his instrumentalization of it to define his own identity was a thoroughly German and indeed 14  Kwame Anthony Appiah, In My Father’s House: Africa in the Philosophy of Culture (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992). 15  Paul Furlong, The Social and Political Thought of Julius Evola (London: Routledge, 2011). 16  Julius Evola, Revolt Against the Modern World (Rochester: Inner Traditions International, 1969). 17  Ibid.

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Protestant pastime. This was a popular activity of the Romantics such as the Schlegel brothers and indeed even influenced the father of liberal theology, Friedrich Schleiermacher.18 After the War, however, the race-­based doctrine Evola espoused subsided, and it instead evolved into a narrative wherein the Aryan, conceived at its peak during the Roman Empire, was instead a superman or hero—leading Evola to develop further the already popular European notions of heroism and masculinity. The postwar Evolan doctrine was more focused on a reaction to the postwar rebuilding of Germany and Italy than any actual evolution in belief. Elisabetta Cassina Wolff describes this shift as less a change of belief and more a change of strategy, stating, Nonetheless [Evola’s] ongoing intellectual concerns remained unchanged: anthropological pessimism, elitism and contempt for the weak. The doctrine of the Aryan-Roman ‘super-race’ was simply restated as a doctrine of the ‘leaders of men’, while the Ordine Fascista dell’Impero Italiano was simply relabeled the Ordine, or ‘male society’: no longer with reference to the SS [Schutzstaffel], but to the mediaeval Teutonic Knights or the Knights Templar.19

The strong points to glean from Evola, still relevant to modern fascist and far-right popular movements, is an appeal to the cult of the hero, the return of masculinity, and a hierarchy of races (even though Evola may have rhetorically shifted on the latter). Further, the rhetorical shift from the SS to former European Christian chivalric orders is crucial—as these are central to the modern symbolism used by far-right groups and individuals. Evola’s influence on Traditionalism, while virtually unknown outside of research pertaining to far-right extremism or fascism in the twentieth century, cannot be underestimated. Although his influence is only recently being uncovered, as far back as 2004 Evola was described by Stephen Atkins as, “the leading philosopher of Europe’s neofascist movement.”20 In a real way, Evola predicted what we are describing when he said, “in fact, the man of the Crusades was able to rise, to fight, and to 18  Bradley L.  Herling, The German Gita: Hermeneutics and Discipline in the German Reception of Indian Thought, 1778–1831 (New York: Routledge Press, 2006). 19  Elisabetta Cassini Wolff, “Evola’s Interpretation of Fascism and Moral Responsibility,” Patterns of Prejudice 50/4-5 (2016): 478–94. 20  Stephen Atkins, Encyclopedia of Modern Extremists and Modern Extremist Groups (Greenwood Publishing Group, 2004), 89.

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die for a purpose which, in its essence, was supra-political and supra-­ human, and to serve on a front defined no longer by what is particularistic, but rather by what is universal.”21 Of this transcendent ability Evola said, “the one who fights according to the sense of ‘sacred war’ is spontaneously beyond every particularism and exists in a spiritual climate which, at any given moment, may very well give rise and life to a supra-national unity of action.”22 This dual universalized idiosyncrasy is an example of the modern anti-liberal counterrevolutionary, echoing both Protestant individualization and liberal or Catholic universalism. In Evola’s case, however, he identifies with neither Catholicism nor Protestantism and is in fact somewhat opposed to them. In 1590, M. le Loyer’s The Ten Lost Tribes suggested that “Anglo-­ Saxon, Celtic, Scandinavian, Germanic, and associated cultures,” were the descendants of the ancient Israelites.23 William Brackney, a historian of Christianity in England, also proposes that this idea captivated the upper classes during the tremendous upheavals in the sixteenth century, suggesting that Sir Francis Drake was among the believers and that even King James himself believed that he could claim royal lineage from Israel. This idea continued throughout the next few centuries with characters like Henry Spelman (1562–1641) and John Sadler (1615–1674), who wrote in the Rights of the Kingdom that Israelite genealogy is carried through the British people.24 Virtually from the sixteenth century through its proper establishment in the 1880s, the notion that British people were somehow connected by blood to the ancient Israelites was a popular, though out of the mainstream, concept.25 In the late nineteenth century, Edward Hine, Edward Wheeler Bird, and Herbert Aldersmith developed the British Israelite movement, which picked up this ancient idea and put it into practice. This movement was fringe indeed, but an anecdote exists which pays 21  Julius Evola, Metaphysics of War: Battle, Victory, and Death in the World of Tradition (London: Arktos Press, 2011), 39. 22  Ibid., 40. 23  William H.  Brackney, Historical Dictionary of Radical Christianity (Lanham, MD: Scarecrow Press, 2012). 24  Jonathan Fine, Political Violence in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam: From Holy War to Modern Terror (London: Rowman & Littlefield, 2015). 25  Aspects of British Israelism and influences have also been traced to Richard Brothers in 1794, John Wilson’s Our Israelitish Origins (1840s), and John Pym Yeatman’s The Shemetic Origin of the Nations of Western Europe (1879). In 1875, J. C. Gawler published Our Scythian Ancestors, which is considered an influential text to the British Israel movement.

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respect to how popular it plausibly was. When asked why he had left the Church of England, Cardinal John Henry Newman believed British Israelism “would take over the Church of England.”26 Once popularized in Britain, the movement spread to America and also to Russia. The basic tenets of this movement are that all Israelites are not Jews, and that through a series of migrations where the Saka-Scythians moved north, the historical or native Briton, Celt, and Scotsman are actually the descendants of the lost tribes of Israel. British Israelism has since grown up into Christian Identity, a foundational Christian type of far-right extremism. The ADL [Anti-Defamation League] describes it as a “religious ideology [which] believes that whites of European descent can be traced back to the Lost Tribes of Israel [and that] many consider Jews to be the Satanic offspring of Eve and the Serpent, while non-whites are ‘mud peoples’ created before Adam and Eve. Its virulent racist and anti-Semitic beliefs are usually accompanied by extreme anti-government sentiments. Despite its small size, Christian Identity influences virtually all white supremacist and extreme anti-­ government movements. It has also informed criminal behavior ranging from hate crimes to acts of terrorism.”27 This ideology, well known in the field of terrorism research, was foundational to the events of Ruby Ridge, the Siege of Waco, and the Oklahoma City bombings. It is arguably the ideology of far-right extremism in the United States and has become increasingly popular throughout Europe, though often implicitly so. Alongside the development of Christian Identity in the United States was its offshoot, the Church of the Creator or the Creativity Movement founded by Ben Klassen in 1973. Klassen, in Nature’s Eternal Religion, develops the thesis that Christianity was a fraud put on by the Jews to overtake Rome—the true Aryan Imperium of its era—a thesis not dissimilar from Evola’s. The Jewish founding of Christianity was, according to Klassen, planned revenge for the destruction of the Second Temple in Jerusalem in 70CE. It was an effort to make the white man submissive to the Jew and effectively capture his conscience in a way which would make him tolerant and weak, best demonstrated by the edict “love your enemy.” The white man, according to Klassen and developed in significantly more  Patience Strong, Someone Had to Say It (London: Bachman & Turner, 1986), 86.  Anti-Defamation League. Christian Identity: Extremism, Terrorism, and Bigotry. https://www.adl.org/education/resources/backgrounders/christian-identity. Accessed: 5 May, 2017. 26 27

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detail in The White Man’s Bible, is a strong, pure, and virtuous creature by his very nature. The eternal religion he wishes to expound in the Church of the Creator is built upon the first principle of survival, and in particular survival from Jewish or Zionist domination on a global scale—only now coming to fruition under modernism and globalization. Klassen says in A Call to Action, [W]e are today engulfed in a major worldwide revolution that constitutes a major turning point in the history of the human race, and the outcome will either be a catastrophe of gigantic proportions or it will usher in a new age of greatness and well-being for the human race. … If the evil forces led by the Jews are victorious, future humanity is doomed to tens of thousands of years of slavery, misery, and bestiality, a situation from which there is no reversal and from which it can never recover. If, on the other hand, the White Race wins, led by the program and vision of Creativity, a bright and beautiful new world will emerge.

Hearkening to the praised future vision, foundational in many extremist ideologies, Klassen lays out a plan which is the synthesis of the classical fascist philosophy popular in Evola’s day with a strictly anti-globalization and anti-Zionist agenda. The symbolism, says Klassen, is that, “The ‘W’ of our Emblem stands, of course, for the WHITE RACE, which we regard as the most precious treasure on the face of the earth. The Crown signifies our Aristocratic position in Nature’s scheme of things, indicating that we are the ELITE.  The Halo indicates that we regard our race as being UNIQUE and SACRED above all other values.”28 What the emblem signifies, simply put, is that the white race is unique, it needs to fight for its own survival, and that nature is hierarchical and the white race is at the top of this hierarchy. In other words, it is the nobility of nature—the aryas. In order to secure this vision, the program of the Creativity Movement is to initiate a racial holy war. This holy war—styled RaHoWa—is a central propaganda piece of the movement. This is outlined in Klassen’s text, RaHoWa: The Planet Is All Ours. Its goal is to effectively purge all mud races and overthrow the supremacy of the Jew growing since the fall of Rome. RaHoWa is now a common symbol in itself for racial and religious supremacists all around the world. Interestingly, Klassen himself positioned the Reformation and 28   Southern Poverty Law Center, Creativity Movement. https://www.splcenter.org/ fighting-hate/extremist-files/group/creativity-movement-0. Accessed: 5 May, 2017.

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Luther as a problem for the white race. Describing past revolutions which impacted world history, he says Luther’s revolution “did not bode well for the white race per se.”29 Considering how after Luther’s Reformation the “white race” effectively colonized massive parts of the planet, Klassen’s claim seems odd to say the least. Helene Lööw, writing on the racist subculture of Scandinavia during the 1990s, has discussed how the Creativity Movement proved to be the organizing ideology of Vitt Ariskt Mostand, the White Aryan Resistance (VAM in Sweden; WAR in the United States).30 Against the Zionist Occupational Government (ZOG), VAM would take on an ethnic-­ religious identity which saw itself as both Christian and pagan (specifically Odinist), but completely Aryan. The Church of the Creator offered financial support to minor cells in Scandinavia, furnishing them with propaganda and money to get prisoners out of jail if they were found guilty of an attack on an ethnic minority.31 This helped build a transnational commitment to what they called the “Aryan Code of Honour,” which stated, I am of Aryan blood. I serve the army that defends my Aryan race. I am prepared to sacrifice my life in the battle for my race. I am of Aryan blood. I will never surrender my soul to my enemies. I will never betray my Aryan people. I am of Aryan blood. If I am captured I will always obey my Aryan duty. I will, if possible, rescue other Aryan prisoners. I will not ask my enemies for mercy. Because I am of Aryan blood.32

This code outlines some of the contours of the confluence between religion, race, and ideology which serves as foundational for the far-right today. Between the historical lineage of postwar fascism and the growing anti-Zionist and anti-globalization resentment, there are actual features which are not only common but work in a similar pattern. Ideas about blood, a common enemy, an ethnic identity, and a shared heritage are virtually present in every example. Oftentimes, far-right extremism is 29  Ben Klassen, “Revolutionary Leadership,” Article originally in RACIAL LOYALTY # 81… 19AC (1992) http://creativitymovementtoronto.blogspot.com/2013/04/klassensteachings-revolutionary.html. 30  Helene Lööw, “The Cult of Violence: The Swedish Racist Counterculture,” in Racist Violence in Europe, edited by Tore Bjørgo and Rob Witte (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 1993), 64–79. 31  Ibid., 68. 32  Ibid., Published in Anghangarbulletinen.

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presented either as strictly Christian or as strictly non-Christian. The truth is far more complicated, and this small presentation of two relatively different strands can only point at this. There is certainly, and without any exception, a religious syncretism present in far-right ideologies. Although they are far out of the mainstream from what is presented as normative for religious practice or Christianity specifically, there is something which lays foundational to them: the white man is at the top of the natural hierarchy which justifies racialized social systems. James Mason, a theorist for the White Aryan Resistance in the United States, said of this pseudo-divide, With the religionists at one end of the movement and the atheists at the other, total agreement can still be reached on one point: the chain. Whether beginning with evolution or some kind of divine creation, the chain represents the endless journey of the endless generations of the White Man through the countless centuries of time. And we are all out to see that the chain remains unbroken. Like the earth and the universe itself, it is eternal and, if anything is sacred, the chain certainly is.33

The manner of achieving this end can be summed up in one word: RaHoWa! (Racial Holy War). Klassen said, “it is in this one word we sum up the total goal and program of not only the Church of the Creator, but of the total White Race.” Further, “In fact, we regard this word as the heart of our religious creed, and as the most sacred credo of all. We regard it as a holy war to the finish—a racial holy war. RaHoWa! Is INEVITABLE. This Planet is from now on all ours, and will be the one and only habitat for our future progeny for all time to come.”34 Or to put it into the popular motto of modern white supremacists: “We must secure the existence of our people and a future for white children.” These are the 14 words. This kind of thinking, from Evola to Klassen, is a thoroughly modern phenomenon—a set of invented traditions. Although it may be tempting for some to see the Medieval symbolism of Evola, for example, as an authentic Medieval worldview or recovery of a Medieval worldview, it is anything but. His was an absolutely individualized interpretation of reality 33  Jeffrey Kaplan, “Religiosity and the Radical Right,” in Nation and Race: The Developing Euro-American Racist Subculture, edited by Tore Bjørgo and Jeffrey Kaplan (Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1998). 34  Ben Klassen, RaHoWa: This Planet is All Ours (Otto, NC: Church of the Creator, 1987). Specifically see the section on RoHoWa and its full ramifications.

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which would be utterly alien to the Medieval Church or Medieval Europe. Furthermore, should one want to extend it back further and say his was a recovery of Ancient Roman ideals—as Evola himself believed he was doing—that is completely false. Roman ideology was significantly more universal and, while indeed there was a strong sense of aristocracy and hierarchy, it was not racialized to favor whiteness. That is a modern, dare we say liberal invention—rooted in the race sciences that came out of liberal positivism. In the case of Klassen, there is no doubt that his is a thoroughly post-Protestant phenomenon in that the invention of not only a Church, but also an entire religious tradition, represents something that could never have existed in the era of Catholic hegemony.

This Time, the World! The Politicization of Racialized Christian Identity On July 22, 2011, perhaps the most disturbing act of political violence since 9/11 occurred in Norway. Anders Behring Breivik, on that day, shot and killed 69 participants of a Workers’ Youth League (AUF) at a summer camp on the island of Utøya. Simultaneously, he detonated a bomb inside a van at the Regjeringskvartalet in Oslo killing eight more. But most interestingly, alongside the 77 he killed, he distributed a manifesto entitled 2083: A European Declaration of Independence, outlining his ideology and rationale for the horrific events. Claiming to be a Justiciar Knight Commander of a cell in a network he called Knights Templar Europe, Breivik was actually a lone actor of a supposedly leaderless resistance.35 His manifesto, 1518 pages long, is divided into three parts. The first part focuses on the historical context, the second on his ideology, and the third covers operational aspects of his imagined military party.36 The first two parts, says Tore Bjørgo, were largely cut-and-paste from other anti-Islamist authors, but the third part was mostly written by Breivik himself. The manifesto, on July 22, was mailed to over 1000 different sources about 90 minutes before the bomb was detonated in Oslo. Understanding some of the ideological motivations of Breivik requires us to ask a preliminary question: is what Breivik says actually the motivation for his actions? In other words, is Breivik telling the truth? The first 35  Tore Bjørgo, The Dynamics of a Terrorist Targeting Process: Anders B Breivik and the 22 July Attacks in Norway (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2016), 2. 36  Ibid., 3–5.

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part of his manifesto outlines a conspiracy theory wherein Cultural Marxism, perpetuated by the Frankfurt School, is actively working to bring down traditional European society through both a process of liberalization and also secularization—or de-Christianization. He suggests he would prefer policies with regard to immigration and multiculturalism more like Japan and South Korea rather than the openness of Norway, saying, “they are not far from cultural conservatism and nationalism at its best.”37 He praises “monoculturalism,” as opposed to multiculturalism, referring to a moment in history wherein Europe was both Aryan and also Christian, sharing in a common heritage different from others around them. Interestingly, and also radically differently from other far-right terrorists, he praises Israel and “far-right Zionism,” as a form of ultranationalism, which, for Breivik, represents the central clash of the twenty-first century: globalists versus nationalists. Initially, Breivik’s manifesto appeared linked to Christianity because he himself claimed in the text to be “100 percent Christian.” Upon further interviews, however, he made it clear exactly what this claim meant for him. He was a “cultural Christian,” and not “excessively religious.” What he claimed to be is an Odinist by his own belief, and a “modern-day Crusader,” by his practice, although he has rejected the symbolism of Neopaganism, favoring again the symbolism of Christianity through the Knights Templar.38 Breivik made a point to clash with both Roman Catholicism and mainline Protestantism, especially the Church of Norway, saying, “Pope Benedict has abandoned Christianity and all Christian Europeans and is to be considered a cowardly, incompetent, corrupt and illegitimate Pope.”39 The central reason he believed this was because of Benedict’s dialogue with Islam. Of Protestantism, he said, “Today’s Protestant church is a joke. Priests in jeans who march for Palestine and 37  “Norway killings: Breivik posted hate-filled video on YouTube hours before attacks,” The Daily Telegraph. 24 July 2011. 38  “Anders Breivik Manifesto: Shooter/Bomber Downplayed Religion, Secular Influence Key.” International Business Times. https://www.ibtimes.com/anders-breivik-manifestoshooterbomber-downplayed-religion-secular-influence-key-817273. Accessed: 14 August, 2020. 39  Massimo Introvigne, “The Identity Ideology of Anders Breivik. Not a Christian Fundamentalist,” CESNUR. https://www.cesnur.org/2011/mi-oslo-en.html. Accessed: 14 August, 2020. At first, the media called Anders Behring Breivik a Christian fundamentalist, some of them even a Roman Catholic. This shows the cavalier use of the word “fundamentalist” prevailing today in several quarters.

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churches that look like minimalist shopping centres. I am a supporter of an indirect collective conversion of the Protestant church back to the Catholic.”40 As far as his intellectual influences go, he himself referred positively to Charles Martel, Nicholas of Russia, Sigurd the Crusader of Norway, El Cid, Vlad the Impaler, Jacques de Molay, Richard the Lionheart, and John III Sobieski throughout his manifesto. All of these characters, without exception, were in some sense Crusaders against Islam. Breivik is a unique character in some ways—or at least he was until Brenton Tarrant copied him many years later. Breivik is unique because, unlike most far-right terrorists, he made communication part of his central strategy. Tore Bjørgo has in fact argued that his attack resulting in the 77 deaths was specifically motivated by Breivik’s desire to communicate his manifesto to the broader public. In other words, Breivik intentionally linked the individual attack to a political agenda—without regard to the cosmic significance of his supposed religious identity. Breivik, while a lone wolf, is not necessarily alone in his worldview. He does not claim affiliation with any actual group—outside of the imagined Knights Templar of which he is a part—but this popular imagery is growing within circles online, and mostly since Breivik’s attack. Though no one could reasonably suggest they are causally related, perhaps there is some correlation to the spread of these ideas on the internet. In August 2015, National Action—a far-right organization in England founded in 2013—launched a campaign to start a “White Man March” in Liverpool. This march was planned in collaboration with similar marches by PEGIDA in Germany.41 After several waves of these protests, National Action launched a social media campaign called “White Jihad,” effectively arguing that white and Christian identities in Europe were under threat. National Action is considered a highly sophisticated organization in comparison with locally based and non-celled organizations with similar concerns. By late 2016, UK home secretary, Amber Rudd said, “I am taking action to proscribe the neo-Nazi group National Action,” under the 40  Daniel Blake, “Norway Bombing, Killings: Arrested ‘Fundamentalist Christian’ Anders Behring Breivik Reveals Hatred of Modern-Day Church in Blogs,” The Christian Post (23 July, 2011). https://www.christianpost.com/news/norway-massacre-fundamentalistchristian-killer-reveals-hatred-of-modern-church-in-blogs.html. Accessed: 14 August, 2020. 41  PEGIDA stands for Patriotic Europeans Against the Islamisation of the Occident (Patriotische Europäer gegen die Islamisierung des Abendlandes). PEGIDA has been frequently linked to the more moderate but still anti-Islamic political party AFD (Alternative für Deutschland).

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Terrorism Act and CONTEST strategy of the Home Office.42 Their mission, stated simply, is to promote a unification of white identity throughout the current populist resurgence all across Europe. It is, to be clearer, an attempt to link the struggle under a more common banner. When the individual becomes subsumed into the political, we see a much stronger sense of organized activism. More striking is when the two are imbued with cosmic significance. Because these movements represent a new phenomenon, it is hard to understand them with total clarity. But one such organization gaining tremendous and rapid popularity is the Knights Templar International (Novus Ordo Militae) based also out of England. Now with tens of thousands of followers on social media, they are the rising star in the far-right online community. They claim to be direct decedents of the true Knights Templar, but are best understood as spiritual successors who are in a sense play-acting or role-playing—similar to Civil War reenactments, but with tangible ideological commitments. Their own website describes themselves as, “a Militant Defensive Chivalric Order of men and women over the age of 18.” And, “not a secret society, simply discrete; most definitely not Masonic; not a church; and have no esoteric leanings.” Furthermore, “with the original Knights, we stress religious tolerance of all those who are no threat to us.” But that said, applicants must be baptized Christian in a mainstream denomination and their personal theological commitments must be Trinitarian with “absolutely NO exceptions.”43 Their recruiting slogan has perhaps made the most sense of it all, “Join the Knights Templar today and take part in the historic struggle against militant Islam.” This point is not insignificant. That they accept any Trinitarian Christian means that Catholic-Protestant union is allowable, as long as they are opposed to Islam and, tangentially, liberalism. This is something which would have never happened, perhaps ironically, before modernity wherein Christianity was perceived consciously and socially as one among many other religions. While indeed this new organization stresses tolerance on their main page, one of the most popular sections of their site is devoted to “Anti-­ White Racism.” This point offers only mild evidence that the KTI [Knights 42  Shafik Mandhai, “UK Places Ban on ‘White Jihad’ Neo-Nazi Group,” in Al-Jazeera. h t t p : / / w w w. a l j a z e e r a . c o m / n e w s / 2 0 1 6 / 1 2 / u k - b a n s - w h i t e - j i h a d - n e o - n a z i group-161212010008907.html. 43  Knights Templar International, Ethos. http://knightstemplarinternational.com/ethos/. Accessed: 5 May, 2017. Currently a 502 Bad Gateway. Registered as https://www. knightstemplarorder.com/ethos. Accessed 30 July, 2020.

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Templar International] is organized in such a way as to conflate the racial and religious in a transnational ideology, but it does point in that direction. Further buttressing the relationship between nationalist groups and KTI, Paul Golding, leader of Britain First—England’s premier nationalist organization—sent an email advocating for people to join KTI. The email said, “have you got a genuine reason for being unable to help Britain First openly? Then joining the Knights Templar is the answer. The Knights Templar provides a home for those with sensitive careers and those who want to stay ‘under the radar’ but still contribute to the cause.”44 This invitation implies that KTI is operating in such a way to be a welcoming and positive branch for the transnationalist struggle against militant Islamism, but not far enough outside the mainstream to condemn people to the plausible hardship they may experience if they openly support clearly radical and racist organizations such as Britain First. It also demonstrates that there is, indeed, an unstated “cause” for which it is implied KTI is leading the struggle. We have seen examples wherein the religious and the racial are conflated, imbued with cosmic significance. Of course, the obvious example is Nazi Germany. Although Nazism was generally separated from Christianity, there was certainly a cosmic sentiment which motivated many in the SS against the forces of evil, which they saw organized by the Jews and to a lesser degree, the Freemasons. But a less known example, and perhaps a more telling one per the current situation in Europe, is how Christoslavism was utilized by Serbian nationalists in the breakup of Yugoslavia. During the conflict, the Serbian Orthodox Church and the Serbian leadership used quasi-historical information to convince the Serbians that the Muslims should be considered enemies. Slobodan Milošević, Radovan Karadžić, and other Serbian leaders frequently used the Battle of Kosovo, in which Serbian hero Prince Lazar was killed by a Muslim force, as justification behind the hatred of Muslims. Lazar was often portrayed as a sort of Christ figure in Serbia, and so his murder amounted to a portrayal of the Muslims killing Christ. The murder took place at the beginning of the Serbians’ time under the Ottoman Empire. This viewpoint also contributes to the concept of Christoslavism. Christoslavism is the idea that all Slavs are Christian, and by converting to another religion, in this case 44  International Report Bigotry and Fascism, “Knights Templar International: Christian Knights or Fascist Front?” http://irbf.org.uk/knights-templar-international-analysis/. Accessed: 5 May, 2017.

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Islam, you are also converting ethnicities, to becoming Turkish.45 This idea became especially popular in the late 1980s and early 1990s in Serbia, where the Bosniak Muslims were more and more considered Turks.46 Thus the story of the Turks killing Lazar was especially effective in portraying the Muslims as the enemies of the Serbs, further justifying their murders. In addition to the fostering of Christoslavism, the Serbian Orthodox Church contributed to this phenomenon through their rhetoric and publications. One notable example of this came from an interview with Radovan Karadžić in the Serbian Orthodox publication Svetigora. In this interview, Karadžić called Slavs who had converted to Islam as “failed Serbs.”47 This is troubling not only because it came from a prominent political and military leader, but also because by publishing these statements, it at least appeared as though the Serbian Orthodox Church agreed with them. The actions of the Church itself also suggested an animosity toward the Bosniaks. It is important to understand the positioning of the Serbian Orthodox Church during this time. Because of the rise of Communism and the instability of the Yugoslav region, the Church spread the idea that they were the sole defenders of the Serbian identity throughout history, and that they were also the supreme moral authority in the region. This positioning, combined with the Church’s view that “the only and final solution of the national question was the unification of the entire Serb people,”48 meant that their efforts to homogenize the Serbian people were especially affected. In addition to their rhetoric, the Serbian Orthodox Church also withdrew from all cities in Bosnia which were not held by Serbians throughout the conflict.49 This action created an even greater sense of dissociation between the Serbians and Bosniaks, and significantly contributed to making the Serbs view the Bosniaks as their enemies. To put this more simply, the narrative was that Serbian identity itself was Christian and that the Bosnian identity itself was Muslim. Furthermore, 45  Michael Sells, “Serbian Religious Nationalism, Christoslavism, and the Genocide in Bosnia, 1992–1995,” in Religion and the War in Bosnia, edited by Paul Mojzes (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1998), 198. 46  Ibid. 47  Ibid., 65. 48  Dragoljub Djordjevic, “Serbian Orthodox Church and the War,” in Religion and the War in Bosnia, edited by Paul Mojzes (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1998), 162. 49  Paul Mojzes, “The Camouflaged Role of Religion in the War in Bosnia and Herzegovina” in Religion and the War in Bosnia, edited by Paul Mojzes (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1998), 87.

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this difference was considered to be irreconcilable and moreover, a war to be fought with holy and cosmological significance. Perhaps most indicative of this definition is how the Serbians named the two sides in the conflict. Momčilo Krajišnik, a major Bosnian Serb leader, when interviewed by the BBC for The Death of Yugoslavia, never referred to his opposition as Bosnians; he only referred to them as the Muslims.50 In sum, this rhetoric shows where the lines are being drawn—they are racial and they are religious, conflated in a cosmic sentiment of a holy war. This is precisely the issue then, and it seems to be replicated in the foundations of what is going on currently throughout much of Europe and to a lesser degree, the United States. Naturally, it cannot be suggested this is the exclusive attribute of the nationalist or traditionalist revolt, but there is something to be said that certain reactionary ideologies can be given cosmic significance, and in turn be used for totally nefarious ends—in this case, although contested, genocide. The enactment of genocide in that case buttresses against the fear that many white supremacists and far-right extremists hold: that they themselves are the victims of an intended or planned genocide. This fear was, at minimum, the lynchpin of the manifesto The Great Replacement by Brenton Tarrant. During Friday Prayer on March 15, 2019, Tarrant went to the Al Noor Mosque and then later to the Linwood Islamic Center in Christchurch, New Zealand, and killed 51 people, injuring another 49. His attack was livestreamed online and launched simultaneously with a manifesto. The manifesto cited Anders Breivik as an inspiration, with Tarrant explicitly expressing the importance of Christian Identity to his agenda. Ishaan Tharoor noted that on his drive to Christchurch, Tarrant was listening to the nationalist Serb song, which glorified Radovan Karadžić, the aforementioned Bosnian Serb jailed for genocide of Muslims in the 1990s.51 Tarrant, like Breivik, cited classical Christian leaders, Medieval crusaders, and other Christian nationalists as his heroes. He even named one of his guns “Turkofagos,” which translates roughly to “Turk-­ eater.” Though his attack was carried out in New Zealand, it is over the question of European sovereignty that his communique was aimed. 50  Norma Percy, The Death of Yugoslavia. Documentary, 1995. At timestamp 4: 54:31. BBC One. 51  Ishaan Tharoor, “The warped history that fuels right-wing terrorism,” The Washington Post, https://www.washingtonpost.com/world/2019/03/22/ warped-history-that-fuels-right-wing-terrorism/.

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Tarrant, like Breivik, was not merely engaging in political violence for its own sake. He wanted to communicate a message. Tarrant’s message is simple: globalists—rootless cosmopolitans, liberals, and Jews—are responsible for mass immigration; these immigrants—Muslims, Africans, and Asians—are replacing whites in their own homeland. This is the inner logic of the great replacement theory, widely popular in the far-right. What is interesting and distinct about Tarrant is not merely that he had conducted this attack, but that his was explicitly Christian and in a sense synthesized the varieties of traditionalisms, nationalisms, and anti-liberalisms which preceded him. Unlike Breivik, who waffled at whether he was a Christian and what the meaning of the Church in the world ought to be, Tarrant was clear: Christianity or death. Christianity, to him, is the religion of white people and Europe belongs to those people and them alone. This is neither a Protestant nor a Catholic message—it is, rather, the ultimate conclusion of the many teloses that existed throughout anti-modern appropriations of the post-Lutheran moment. It takes nationalism, racism, liberalism, and even a cosmological globalism while synthesizing them into a return-to-traditionalism anti-modernism. It has the makings of virtually everything which shaped it before. The precise challenge facing Christians today over the politicization of a racialized Christian Identity is a task only an ecumenical and global Christianity can tackle. Renewed attention to history, uncovering the origins of nationalism and its relationship to Christianity, understanding the relationship of Christianity to the invention of race as well as the export of Christianity through globalization are scholarly tasks needed to fashion intellectual frameworks that will help challenge the so-called Christianity of these traditionalists and nationalists. Furthermore, such endeavors will help to decouple the logic of a European or Aryan Christianity from Christianity itself—because, after all, the majority of Christians are today brown and in the global South, not white or in Europe. The ecumenical movement offers a unique place wherein the already established dialogue between the multiple Christian traditions allows for an authority to rebuke these individualized, modern interpretations that co-opt tradition for their own ideological ends. Catholics and Protestants who have their traditions politicized in these ways can come together and invest in offering alternative presentations of the meaning of their respective histories, how they came about, and how those politicizing and inventing traditions on their backs are incorrect and often dangerous.

PART II

Ecumenical Explorations

CHAPTER 7

Jewish and Christian Traditions of the Interpretation of Scripture According to Robert Bellarmine Amy E. Phillips

Introduction As a result of the principle of sola scriptura that was a centerpiece of the Protestant Reformation, the Catholic Church sought to respond definitively at the Council of Trent. The fourth session’s second decree, promulgated on April 8, 1546, declared unambiguously the canon of Holy Scripture for the Catholic Church. The old Latin Vulgate edition (vetus e vulgata aeditio) was deemed authentic and approved for use in public lectures, disputations, sermons, and exposition. What is ambiguous here, however, is any explicit reference to editions of Bibles (Latin or otherwise). As John O’Malley notes, “Although in designating the Vulgate as ‘authentic’ (reliable) the drafting committee did not intend to suppress

A. E. Phillips (*) Georgetown University, Washington, DC, USA © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 G. Mannion et al. (eds.), Ecumenical Perspectives Five Hundred Years After Luther’s Reformation, Pathways for Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-68360-3_7

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other Latin versions, the decree was subsequently interpreted that way…. It said nothing about translations of the Bible into the vernacular.”1 Despite the Council’s decree, “[i]n 1559… the Holy Office of the Inquisition, preceded by a similar decree in Venice, published an Index of Prohibited books and ordained that Bibles in the vernacular be not “printed, read nor owned.”2 Thereafter, the Congregation for the Index of Prohibited Books set the tone for how the decrees at the Council should be understood, giving weight to the idea that none other than Jerome’s Vulgate was allowed. Despite the appearance of the vernacular Bibles in the Index, there was not unanimous agreement within the Congregation for the Index about which texts should be considered prohibited or not, particularly Bibles and biblical commentaries. There was internal debate and dissent among the members, and this is nowhere more exemplary than when looking at the Jesuit Robert Bellarmine, who is considered one of the foremost theologians of the Catholic Reformation.3 This essay examines Robert Bellarmine’s positions on the interpretation of Scripture by both Jews and Christians as well on his stance on the authority of the Vulgate, thereby providing deeper insight on how the decrees of the Council of Trent were understood and enacted. This task brings into conversation various scholars who have written on Bellarmine, his exegesis, and his work as a censor for the Congregations of the Index for Prohibited Books. Particular attention to these aspects of Bellarmine have remained on the peripheries of studies4 since he is known largely for his participation in the trials of Giordano Bruno and Galileo, as well as his 1  John O’Malley, Trent: What Happened at the Council? (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2013), 98. 2  Alessandro Guetto, “Antonio Brucioli and the Jewish Italian Versions of the Bible,” in Jewish Books and their Readers: Aspects of the Intellectual Life of Christians and Jews in Early Modern Europe, ed. Scott Mandelbrote and Joanna Weinberg (Leiden: Brill, 2016), 49. 3  Piet van Boxel, “Hebrew books and Censorship in Sixteenth Century Italy,” in Jewish Books, 92. 4  It was only in 1911 that Jesuit Xavier-Marie Le Bachelet’s Bellarmin et La Bible sixtoclementine appeared as one of the first studies specifically on Bellarmine as a biblical scholar who was instrumental in salvaging and shaping the translation of the Sixto-Clementine Vulgate. With the opening of the archives of the Holy Roman and Universal Inquisition in 1998, one of the first books to more fully examine Bellarmine’s role in the Congregation for the Index of Forbidden Books was Peter Godman’s The Saint as Censor: Robert Bellarmine Between Inquisition and Index (Leiden, Boston: Brill, 2000). A more recent study, not included in my present study of Bellarmine as a biblical scholar, has been done by Christian

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role in the Venetian Interdict where he sparred with Paolo Sarpi regarding the limits of papal authority.5

Bellarmine as a Scripture Scholar and Polemicist This essay will now focus on concrete examples of Biblical texts that Bellarmine engages with, first as an exegete and secondly as a polemicist.6 Elsewhere, I have drawn upon Piet van Boxel to note how Bellarmine thought that a knowledge of Hebrew was necessary for interpreting biblical texts.7 Van Boxel once again reiterates this point when he examines Bellarmine’s role in the Congregation, discussed later in this essay. R. Gerald Hobbs’s presentation of Bellarmine’s reading of Psalm 4 in his Explanatio in Psalmos (1611) argues that Bellarmine “rejected claims for the superiority of the Masoretic Text, but identified with that older patristic tradition which considered the Greek Septuagint [LXX] as representing the most accurate and inspired reading of the original Hebrew.”8 At the same time, Bellarmine critically engages with how and why the Vulgate is an authoritative witness. In other words, he does not assume it is without error or textual paradoxes. It is only by careful examination of D.  Washburn, “St. Robert Bellarmine on the Authoritative Interpretation of Sacred Scripture” in Gregorianum 94, 1 (2013): 55–77. 5  R. Gerald Hobbs, “Reading the Old Testament after Trent: Cardinal Robert Bellarmine and his Italian Predecessors on Psalm Four,” in Reformation and Renaissance Review, 12, 2–3 (2013) notes that one of the earliest exclusive studies on Bellarmine as biblical scholar [in the English language] was done by Jared Wicks, “Catholic Old Testament Interpretation in the Reformation and Early Confessional Eras: Robert Bellarmine” Hebrew Bible/Old Testament v. 2: From the Renaissance to the Enlightenment (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2008). 6  When discussing the Hebrew version of the Bible, I will refer to it as the Hebrew Masoretic Text. 7  I wrote: “Bellarmine’s education at Louvain, influenced his opinion that the Hebrew text was important in any learned study of the Bible. Though he learned basic Hebrew from his professor of biblical exegesis, Johan Willemsz, he continued to improve and advance his Hebrew knowledge. He wrote a Hebrew grammar which he published [in] 1578 and revised once again for publication in 1580, the Exercitatio grammatica in Psalmum XXXIII. [Piet van Boxel notes that] ‘From the Exercitatio grammatica in Psalmum it becomes clear that Bellarmine considered Hebrew indispensable from the understanding of the biblical text.’” Amy E. Phillips, “Censorship of Hebrew Books in Sixteenth Century Italy. A Review of a Decade of English and French Language Scholarship” in Bibliofilia 2016, anno CXVIII n. 3, 417, quoting van Boxel from his “Robert Bellarmine, Christian Hebraist…,” 257. 8  Hobbs, “Reading the Old Testament,” 207.

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the Hebrew text that he claims the textual superiority of the Vulgate. Bellarmine, however, did not always side with Jerome on interpretive matters. For instance, on the question of authorship of the Psalms, whether they were written by David or multiple authors, Jerome espouses multiple authors. Bellarmine includes other patristic sides of the debate but finally concludes that Davidic authorship is more plausible, contra Jerome. Bellarmine says: “The reason I think this latter judgement is preferable, is that it is the more widely held and was so a thousand years ago, as Augustine in the City of God book 17, 14, and Theodoret, in his Psalter preface, attest.”9 In some cases where the Hebrew Masoretic Text (MT) differs from the Vulgate, Bellarmine postulates that Jerome’s differing translation is a result of Jerome’s relying on the LXX, which, according to Bellarmine, was in turn, a translation of a purer Hebrew manuscript, an UR text of sorts. Thus, he says, It is likely that there were more correct Hebrew codices in the days of the Seventy interpreters than we have now. Therefore our Vulgate reading is by all means to be retained, as it is indeed found to be conformed to the Hebrew reading which the Septuagint translators had in more accurate form.10

In the case of Psalm 143 (144), the heading in the Vulgate is adversus Goliath, but this phrase is lacking in the MT. That it appears in the Vulgate but not in the Hebrew is not problematic for Bellarmine because the phrase appears in the LXX. Bellarmine reports that Saint Hilary also attests to it being present in Origen’s Hexapla. Thus, Bellarmine concludes, no one knew better what would have been in the Septuagint, which was in the Hexapla, than Origen who compiled the Hexapla. Add to this that since

9  Ibid., 223–4; see also footnote 58 where the Latin Hobbs claims to be working from is thus: “Atque haec quidem de auctore Psalmorum certa mihi esse viden-tur… Probabilem censeo sententiam S. Athansii, Hilarii et Hieronymi, sed probabil…” “iorem Chrysostomi, Augustini, Theodoren et  aliorum qui eos secuti sunt…” “Ratio est quia est communior, et fuit etiam communior ante annos mille …” 10  Ibid., 225; see also footnote 62: “Magna est auctoritas Septuaginta interpretum, quos et doctissimos fuisse et óptimos codices habuisse, dubitari non potest,” and footnote 64: “… Itaque lectio nostra vulgata omnino con-servanda est, quippe quae conformis reperitur lectioni Hebraicae, quam Septuaginta interpretes emendatiorem habuerunt.”

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the title is read in all the Latin books, and expounded by St. Augustine and others, it is not to be rejected.11

These two examples show us that Bellarmine does not dismiss the Hebrew text of the Bible out of hand, but rather, his argument in rejecting it as a superior text to the Vulgate is based on his text-critical notion that “it is credible that titles [and readings] that were present in the Hebrew book when the Seventy translators translated the Hebrew Scriptures into the Greek tongue have fallen out.”12 Put differently, rather than deny that the Hebrew version of the Bible is less authoritative than the Vulgate, he posits a purer Hebrew text-type used by Jerome. His logic therefore manages to preserve the importance of a Hebrew witness, while not undermining the text deemed by Trent as an authoritative text for “public lectures, disputations, sermons and expositions held as authentic.”13 Van Boxel has carefully studied two manuscripts written by Bellarmine, one at the Gregorian University Library, MS 538b, also known as Notae in Genesim (Notes on Genesis). The other is at the Biblioteca Fabroniana in Pistoia, entitled Errores R. Salomonis in quinque libros Mosis (Errors of Rabbi Salomon [i.e., Rashi] in the Five Books of Moses). These are exegetical notes on the book of Genesis and on the Pentateuch, respectively, and they demonstrate Bellarmine’s command of both the Christian and Jewish traditions of interpretation, including his familiarity with the Talmud, a tradition not usually well known to other Christian exegetes of his generation.14 Van Boxel observes, “In a number of cases Bellarmine stresses the reliability of the Hebrew which he is not prepared to change to conform to the Latin.”15 11  Ibid., 227; see also footnote 69: “…Nemo autem melius novit, quid esset in versione Septuaginta quafe habetur in Exaplis, quam Orígenes qui Exapla collegit. Adde quod cum hie titulus legatur in omnibus libris latinis, et a S. Augustino et aliis exponatur, non est ulla ratione tollendus aut contemnendus.” 12  Ibid., 227, see also footnote 70: “…proinde credibile est, excidisse títulos ex codice Hebraeo qui in eo aderant cum Septuaginta interpretes scripturas Hebraicas in graecum idioma transfèrent.” 13  Canons and Decrees of the Council of Trent, translated by Rev. H. J. Schroeder (Charlotte, North Carolina: Tan Books, 2005), 18. 14  Von Boxel, “Robert Bellarmine: Christian Hebraist and Censor,” in History of Scholarship: a selection of papers from the seminary on the history of scholarship help annually at Warburg Institute, ed. Christopher Ligota and Jean-Louis Quantin (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006). 15  Ibid., 259.

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In the case of Genesis 24:32, regarding an encounter between Laban and a servant of Abraham, the Hebrew (and LXX) reads:16 ‫ּומ ְסּפֹוא לַגְ ּמַ לִ ּים ּומַ יִ ם לִ ְרחֹ ץ ַרגְ לָיו וְ ַרגְ לֵי הָ ֲאנ ִָשׁים אֲשֶ ׁר ִאּתֹו‬ ִ ‫וַיִ ּתֵ ּן תֶ ּבֶ ן‬. And he [Laban] gave straw and food to the camels and water to wash his feet and the feet of the men with him.

The Vulgate reads:17 deditque paleas et faenum et aquam ad lavandos pedes camelorum et virorum qui venerant cum eo And he gave straw and hay and water for washing the feet of the camels and his men who were with him.

About the discrepancy, Bellarmine acknowledges that Greek, Syriac, and Hebrew have the same reading contra the Vulgate. He accepts their variants over the Vulgate and says, “since reason amply confirms that this (i.e., the Hebrew) is more correct.”18 In the case of Genesis 2:6, where previous Christian commentators had reconstructed a phrase in the Hebrew to bring it into conformity with the Vulgate, Bellarmine rejects the idea of a reconstruction, both because he wants the Hebrew to remain as it stands and because Jerome had translated the Hebrew ad sensum. This explanation maintains the authority of the Hebrew without having to change its wording as well as suggesting that the Vulgate offers a better translation of the Hebrew original.19 Bellarmine’s Errores R. Salomonis in quinque libros Mosis suggests his extensive knowledge of the Talmud. The Talmud was banned by Paul IV in the papal bull Cum nimis absurdum, issued on July 15, 1555, and had been the target of destruction by the authorities of the Catholic Church as far back as the thirteenth century. When Bellarmine does encounter 16  From Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia. Editio quarta emendata opera H. Rüger (Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 1967/77, 1990). Translation my own. 17  From Biblia Sacra iuxta vulgatam versionem. Editionem quartam emendatam … praeparavit Roger Gryson. Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 1969, 1994. Translation my own. 18  Graeca, chaldea et hebraea habent pedibus eius id est viri non camelorum et hoc ess verius ratio ipsa ample confirmat. (van Boxel, quoting the manuscript, “Robert Bellarmine Christian Hebraist…,”260). 19  Ibid., 260.

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passages or references to the Talmud used by Rashi, he will note them or outright reject them. As I wrote previously: That Bellarmine was well able to discern when a Jewish commentator was using the Talmud, is known from an example in his notes on the passage in Genesis 8:7, where Noah sends the raven to see if there is dry land. The Hebrew text says: the raven went to and fro until the waters dried up. In Rashi’s commentary he explains that the reason the raven circled was because it was worried about its crow-wife. Though Rashi does not state that he is using the Talmud for his interpretation of the raven’s action, he is clearly alluding to an explanation in the Talmud that the crow is worried that Noah will take his mate for his own wife in his (i.e., the crow’s) absence. Bellarmine knows that the Talmud is the source for Rashi’s comments and makes a note of it for himself.20

In his examination of Bellarmine’s Disputationes de controversiis christianae fidei adversus huius temporis haereticos, van Boxel describes the nuanced way in which Bellarmine “contributed to the debates about biblical canon.”21 As mentioned already, what constituted the canon of Scripture for the Catholic Church was determined at the Fourth Session of the Council of Trent, in its Decree Concerning the Canonical Scriptures, which stated: If anyone does not accept as sacred and canonical the aforesaid books in their entirety and with all their parts, as they have been accustomed to be read in the Catholic church and as they are contained in the old Latin Vulgate Edition, and knowingly or deliberately rejects the aforesaid traditions, let him be anathema.22

The battle over which books should be included in the Vulgate constituted a huge point of contention between Protestant biblicists and theologians. Bellarmine’s position on this matter was well known to the Protestants, especially William Whitaker who wrote a rejoinder to Bellarmine’s Disputationes two years after it was published, which was 20  Amy E.  Phillips, “Censorship of Hebrew Books…,” 418–19 referring to van Boxel’s article “Robert Bellarmine Reads Rashi…,” 129. 21  Piet van Boxel, “The role of Josephus in Bellarmine’s Controversial Theology” in International Journal of Classical (IJCT), 23, no. 3 (July 2016): 269. 22  Canons and Decrees of the Council of Trent, 18; also cited in van Boxel, “The role of Josephus…,” 269–70.

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entitled Disputation on Scripture against the Papists, especially Bellarmine and Stapleton. This response of Whitaker’s was given an official published reply on Bellarmine’s behalf by the Jesuit Jacob Gretser in his book Controversiarum Roberti Bellarmini defensio.23 It is in the Disputationes that Bellarmine takes up the issue of the extra seven chapters in Esther that appear in the Vulgate (and the LXX) but are not attested in the Hebrew Masoretic Text. Jerome had declared that the extra chapters were from corrupted translations and preferred the Hebrew text, putting the extra chapters as an appendix at the end of the book. Jerome’s opinion notwithstanding, Bellarmine thought those chapters should be included as part of the entirety of Book of Esther and not merely as an appendix. There are two points worth noting in Bellarmine’s discussion about the extra chapters. First, he completely rejects the rationale of Jerome, just stated, and rejects the arguments by the important thirteenth-century biblical authority, Nicholas of Lyra, who reasoned that the added chapters were an invention of Josephus, the first-century Jewish historiographer, in his work Antiquitates Judaicae. Bellarmine also disagreed with his contemporary, the Dominican Sisto da Siena who, in his book Bibliotheca Sancta, rejected any authority of Josephus’s biblical witness found in the Anitquitates. For Bellarmine, the heart of the matter is that the Vulgate is not an authoritative source because it was declared canonical by the Council, but that the Council declares canonicity based on ancient testimonies, which for Bellarmine, in the case of Esther, comes from Josephus. Josephus becomes an even more reliable witness than the Masoretic Hebrew text because he himself had access to, as Bellarmine posits, an even older Hebrew text-type, a vetus testimonium, which was “therefore more trustworthy than those Church Fathers who rejected it.”24

Bellarmine as a Member of the Congregation for the Index of Prohibited Books We now turn to Robert Bellarmine’s role in the Congregation for the Index of Prohibited Books. Van Boxel has discerned that Bellarmine’s influence there is consistent with his biblical methodology as just described. In his book Jewish Books in Christian Hands: Theology, Exegesis, and  Van Boxel, “The role of Josephus…,” 273, see Note 16.  Ibid., 272.

23 24

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Conversation Under Gregory XIII, van Boxel presents the little-studied manuscripts held at the Vatican Library, namely Vat. lat. 14627, Vat. Lat. 14628, and Vat. Lat. 14630, compilations by both members of the Congregation, including Bellarmine, and Jewish converts who had ties with the Casa dei Catecumeni (aka Casa Dei Neofiti), which was a residence founded by Ignatius of Loyola and subsequently transformed into a college (known as the Collegio dei Neofiti) for intensive academic formation for Jewish converts who intended to enter service for the Church or the priesthood.25 Though once thought to be an Index expurgatorius, that is, a manual for censoring objectionable Jewish literature,26 van Boxel argues that these manuscripts were, rather, a… manual of Christian interpretation of Scripture in confrontation with Jewish biblical exegesis. Equipped with such a manual, preachers could guide the Jews into a correct understanding of the Old Testament. In supervising this project, Bellarmine was given a pivotal role in missionary policy towards the Roman Jews, a policy in which the sermons figured prominently.27

This policy was that issued by Pope Gregory XIII in the Papal Bull Vices ejus nos (September 1, 1577) which called for, in part, the Jews of Rome “to attend conversionary sermons.”28 25  In Jewish Books in Christian Hands…, van Boxel explains that it was the result of the forced sermon attendance as outlined in the papal bull Vices ejus nos that prompted the reorganization of the Casa dei Catecumeni into the Casa dei Neofit. “The new institution [i.e., the Casa dei Neofiti], officially called Collegium Ecclesiasticum Adolescentium Neophitorum, offered an extensive and thorough education for young men converted from the Jewish or Islamic faith. Students accepted for theological training enrolled at the Collegio Romano, the university founded by the Pope. Classes in music, Arabic, Hebrew and Syriac, and advanced course in philosophy, were given at the Casa dei Neofiti.” (35) For more on the origins and development of the Casa dei Catecumeni, see “Grafting New Shoots: Jewish and Muslim Converts and the First Jesuits: The Casa dei Catecumeni and the Arciconfraternita di S. Giuseppe” in Working in the Vineyard of the Lord: Jesuit Confraternities in Early Modern Italy, ed. Lance Gabriel Lazar (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2005), 99–124. 26  By the scholar Gustavo Sacerdote in his “Deux index expurgatoires de livres hebreux” in Revue des etudes juives 30 (1895): 257–83 (cf. van Boxel, Jewish Books, 11). 27  Van Boxel, Jewish Books, 13. 28  Ibid., 34. Obviously forced attendance to sermons is a horrifying thought. Yet, we must consider that Gregory XIII’s immediate predecessor Pius V enforced heavy taxes on the Jews to pay for running the institution, the Casa dei Catecumeni which, as already noted, was responsible for their evangelization. Moreover, Pius V “expelled the Jews from all towns in

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Focusing on the exegetical criteria through concrete examples, van Boxel offers us insight into the scope of the undertaking. He concentrates primarily on Vat. Lat. 14628 because this manuscript is the manual in its final form; that is, Vat. Lat 14629 and 14630 appear to be earlier drafts of 14628.29 The texts included in this compilation are primarily passages from all three editions of Daniel Bomberg’s printed Rabbinic Bible, which, as evidenced by the name, included the biblical text with annotations from the most important rabbinic commentators, most notably Solomon Ben Isaac (better known as Rashi) and David Kimhi. Many of the copied passages are taken from the Rabbinic Bible with simple comments from the compilers that “resulted [in] an unprecedented catalogue of alleged blasphemies against God and the divine attributes, errors in the supernatural sphere, insults and imprecations of holy men and women, unacceptable Jewish dogmas and beliefs, invented miracles, lies, obscenities and sheer ignorance.”30 The compilers also took issue with how the rabbis might interpret a passage that could contradict a rendering found in the Vulgate or with the rabbis even mentioning that there could be a corruption of the Hebrew Masoretic text.31 Van Boxel notes that “As a reviser, however, Bellarmine took a different stance [from the widespread notion that the Vulgate was the absolute authority]. Already in Louvain, when teaching biblical exegesis, he had advocated a limited authority to the Vulgate.”32 Moreover, in his Disputationes he makes the observation that “the Hebrew Scriptures are neither completely corrupt nor totally reliable and faultless,” thus leaving room for their consideration in the Pontifical State apart from Ancona, Rome and Avignon” (Ibid., 30). He also reinstituted the policies of Paul IV as articulated in the papal bull Cum nimis absurdum, issued July 15, 1555, which banned the Talmud, “prohibited Jews from owning real estate, limited their commercial activities…forced them to wear a distinctive badge and forbade in general all social relations with Christians, regulations that culminated in the institution of the Roman ghetto” (Ibid., 30). When Gregory took the papal throne in 1572, he reversed or softened the policies toward Jews that his predecessors had written and enforced. He brought tax relief to the Jews and used his own papal finances to support the Casa dei Catecumeni (Ibid., 32). It was for the Casa dei Catecumeni that Bellarmine and members of the Index designed their source book for giving preachers the insight and sensitivity to bring about the conversion of Jews or the Christian indoctrination of already converted Jews. Thus, this can be viewed as an improved paradigmatic shift from the forced conversion that occurred before this period. 29  Ibid., 39–41. 30  Ibid., 88. 31  Ibid., 108. 32  Ibid., 109.

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exegetical matters.33 Van Boxel’s claims are consistent with what is described above regarding Bellarmine’s methods as a scripture scholar. The methodology and organization of Vat. Lat. 14628 should be mentioned: A compiler would write a passage from the Rabbinic Bible that could be anything from problematic to blasphemous. A comment would be left by the compiler. Bellarmine would either agree or take issue with the compiler’s assessment. The Master of the Sacred Palace (who was at this time Giulio Santoro) had the final word on the discussion, and in most cases he would side with Bellarmine’s position. An example of this is in a passage from Vat. Lat. 14628, in which a compiler includes a passage where the question of the discrepancy of number of cities granted to the sons of Merari, as stated in Joshua 8:21 and Joshua 21:34–40, is given an expansive explanation by David Kimhi. The biblical text says (and here I’ll translate the Vulgate version): And the sons of Merari because of their blood-relationship [received] twelve towns from the tribes of Ruben and Gad and Zebulan.34 Kimhi comments on this passage: In this verse he says that there were 12 cities for the sons of Merari from the tribe of Ruben, the tribe of Gad and the tribe of Zebulon and later in the enumeration of the cities [which occurs in Joshua 21:34–40] he mentions only eight cities, four from the tribe of Zebulon and four from the tribe of Gad, and of the tribe of Ruben he did not write anything. I have seen books which were corrected where the four cities of Ruben were enumerated [in Joshua 21:36–37], but I have not seen these two verses in any correct ancient codex apart from some that had been amended.35

The compiler’s comment (also known as censura) on this Kimhi commentary is: “It appears that Hebrew Books are not without lies.”36 In response to this Bellarmine says: About this censura I think the same as about the first one, and I really do not see what the advantage it is to us to emphasize the corruption of the Bible so much, for by harming the Jews, we involuntarily help the Anabaptists to  Ibid., 109, note 108.  et filiis Merari per cognationessuas de tribubus Ruben et Gad et Zabulon urbes duodecim. From Biblia Sacra iuxta vulgatam versionem. Editionem quartam emendatam … praeparavit Roger Gryson, (Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 1969, 1994). English translation, my own. 35  Van Boxel, Jewish Books, 110. 36  Ibid., 111 cf. Appendix V, 15. 33 34

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profit…. After all, all the passage, which R.  David and others mention as corrupt and changed by scribes, Saint Jerome translated, and we now have them in the Vulgate edition in the form that they claim has been corrupted or changed.

Here we have access to Bellarmine’s skilled analysis “in which he combines political awareness with the authority of the Church Fathers and an insight into textual transmission.”37 That Kimhi agrees with others (presumably past Christian commentators) gives his insight validity. Failing to account for textual transmission, as Bellarmine notes, places the arguments the censura gives into an unwanted position of agreeing with the Anabaptists who point out the textual corruptions of the Vulgate. In another example, a compiler notes Rashi’s interpretation of Jeremiah 1:5, where God deems Jeremiah a prophet to the nations.38 Rashi interprets “nations” as Jews who use the customs of Gentiles, rather than simply Gentiles. Of course, the compiler takes umbrage at this interpretation to which Bellarmine responds: The statement “I made to you a prophet to the nations,” that is to Israel, is true. Contrary to the [censura] I would assert that God did not make a promise to the gentiles. For although the prophets made many predictions about the conversion of the nations, God did not make them any promises as He did to the Jews, and the prophets were not sent to the nations, but to the Jews alone. That is what we read in Romans 15[:8–9]… This explanation by Rabbi Salomon could therefore perhaps be tolerated.39

Bellarmine here invokes the New Testament as a critical witness validating Rashi’s remarks and in doing so gives a historical critical analysis of the Sitz im Leben of Jeremiah that the censor failed to account for. Remembering that these passages were intended to be used in discussion with and preaching to the Jews, it is understandable that Bellarmine would be careful to give persuasive and scholarly arguments for Christian interpretations of biblical and rabbinic literature. To dismiss Jewish  Ibid., 111 cf. Appendix V, 20.  priusquam te formarem inutero novi et antequam exires devulva sanctificavi te prophet amgentibus dedi te. From Biblia Sacra iuxta vulgatam versionem. Editionem quartem emendatam… praeparavit, Roger Gryson (Stuttgart: Duetsche Bibelgesellschaft, 1969, 1994). 39  Van Boxel, Jewish Books, 114. 37 38

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tradition completely could impede conversion and furthermore give validity to Protestant claims about the Vulgate’s inferiority. Bellarmine’s dialogue with his fellow compilers reined in their quickness to read Jewish commentators as thoughtless or blasphemous, and therefore he provided a way for Christians to have a meaningful engagement with the Jews of Rome.

Conclusion For Bellarmine as the biblical scholar, an attempt has been made to demonstrate how he was obedient to the decrees of Trent but not without first being guided by the text-critical principle of preferring ancient witnesses over later ones. Bellarmine was trained to understand that the Masoretic Hebrew text was just one of many text-types used or known to Jerome. Where Jerome departs from the Masoretic Hebrew text, Bellarmine assumed that Jerome’s Hebrew Vorlage was still more reliable. He never failed to point out when Jerome’s testimony could be verified by Jewish sources like the Septuagint or Josephus. With the exception of the Talmud, he never rejected a Jewish tradition outright for polemical purposes and trusted the Jewish witnesses even when they were in opposition to earlier Church traditions of reading. Moreover, in the cases of his close readings of Genesis, it can be seen that he was not opposed to giving preference to the authority of the Hebrew. The hope is to have shown that, for Bellarmine as a member of the Congregation for the Index of Prohibited Books, his engagement with Jewish exegesis was methodical and sensitive, much more so than his fellow compilers of the manuals for preaching, as attested in Vat. Lat. 14628. As someone engaged in aiding the conversion of the Jews, he took seriously their interpretations. Rather than dismiss or belittle them, he found in them exegetical insight that could lead them into an encounter with a new textual tradition, namely the New Testament and the traditions of Christian interpretation. It is difficult to view Bellarmine’s work without considering the implications for our present intellectual milieu, especially for anyone committed to inter-religious dialogue. In light of the scientific methods of biblical scholarship which emerged during and after the Enlightenment and especially historical-criticism as it developed in the nineteenth century, Bellarmine’s evangelistic and therefore supersessionistic worldview might make us shy away from uncovering the upsetting failures of the Christian

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side of the Jewish-Christian relationship. Contextualizing Bellarmine’s work as a censor and exegete highlights the ways in which Bellarmine was open to Jewish sacred texts and scholarship in a way his peers and interlocutors were not. In this, he therefore opens a path forward to a Catholic biblical scholarship that would influence Pius XII’s Divino afflante Spiritu issued in 1943, to the Second Vatican Council’s Dogmatic Constitution, Dei verbum, issued in 1965, and to the same council’s Declaration on the Relation of the Church to non-Christian religions Nostra aetate, also issued in 1965.

CHAPTER 8

Ecumenism and Jewish-Christian Dialogue: New Ways of Approaching Old Problems Luc Forestier

The anniversary of the beginning of the Reformation offers an opportunity to measure the road facing the different “Churches and ecclesial Communities” toward full reconciliation, even if they do not agree on what unity really means, especially in relation to ecclesiological questions.1 These ecumenical issues contain two different dimensions, intimately 1  On the eve of 2017, Cardinal Kurt Koch, president of the Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity, gave a lecture in Strasbourg (6 December 2016) which aroused considerable interest, in which he explained that “First, we have to acknowledge that the purpose of ecumenism is less and less clear […] different conceptions of ecclesial unity still continue to be opposed and unreconciled: the Catholic Church, like Orthodoxy, understands Church unity as a visible unity in faith, in sacramental life and in ministry. However, many Churches and ecclesial communities have largely abandoned this conception of unity, which was originally common to all.” Kurt Koch, “Fifty years after Vatican II: The Challenges of Ecumenism Today,” Documents Episcopat 12 (2016): 15.

L. Forestier (*) Theologicum, Institut Catholique de Paris, Paris, France e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 G. Mannion et al. (eds.), Ecumenical Perspectives Five Hundred Years After Luther’s Reformation, Pathways for Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-68360-3_8

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connected. First, on the pastoral level, most of our fellow-Christians live their Christian faith displaying little concern about ecumenism. However, it is a major issue since there will be no reconciliation without a shared consciousness of the necessity of unity. Second, on the theological level, some difficulties seem inextricable, especially those regarding ministry. Since ministry is closely connected to the unity of the Church, how can we conceive of a “reconciliation of ministries”?2 These old problems need new approaches, as Pope Francis exemplifies regarding what he calls “ecumenism of blood.” The witness to the Christian faith of contemporary martyrs, who are persecuted whatever denominations they belong to, urges all believers to realize that ecumenism is an “existential emergency,” as stated by Cardinal Koch at the Strasbourg Conference. Thirty years after the close of Vatican II, Pope John Paul II published Ut Unum Sint (1995) which, until now, remains one of the most important contributions of the Catholic Church to the Ecumenical Movement. This encyclical started with the same demand which is now more relevant than ever.3 Alongside this ecumenism of blood, the topic of this exploratory paper is to show that the rather complicated question of relationships between Christianity and Judaism could offer new opportunities for insights into ecumenical questions, especially at the level of fundamental theology. I will briefly recall the multiple connections between ecumenism and dialogue with Israel, and then explore three ecclesiological questions. These fresh perspectives on the relationship between Judaism and Christianity offer new paths since all the Churches and ecclesial communities stand together in relationship to Israel. 2  “Towards a Reconciliation of Ministries” is the title of the work published in 1972 by the Groupe des Dombes, which, each year since 1937, gathers together 40  Protestant and Catholic theologians in a monastery, which is now the Abbey of Pradines, near Lyons (France). Cf. Groupe des Dombes, Pour une réconciliation des ministères: éléments d’accord entre catholiques et protestants (Taizé, Presses de Taizé, 1973). An English translation is to be found in Catherine E. Clifford, ed., For the Communion of the Churches: the Contribution of the Groupe des Dombes (Grand Rapids, MI: W.B. Eerdmans Pub., 2010), 25–36. 3  “The courageous witness of so many martyrs of our century, including members of Churches and Ecclesial Communities not in full communion with the Catholic Church, gives new vigor to the Council’s call and reminds us of our duty to listen to and put into practice its exhortation. These brothers and sisters of ours, united in the selfless offering of their lives for the Kingdom of God, are the most powerful proof that every factor of division can be transcended and overcome in the total gift of self for the sake of the Gospel.” John Paul II, Ut Unum Sint (1995), §1.

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The Connections Between Ecumenism and Dialogue with Israel In 1966, while he recognized that ecumenical relationships were happily developing, Karl Barth stated that the first ecumenical question was the relationship with Israel. According to Barth, “ecumenism suffers more seriously from the absence of Israel than from the absence of Rome or Moscow.”4 Indeed, there are important connections between growing consciousness within Christianity of the permanency of Israel’s election and the ecumenical movement. At least, it is possible to notice three points of contact, mainly after World War II and the Shoah, starting with the Declaration Nostra aetate of Vatican II. Writing Nostra Aetate During Vatican II, in the difficult process of redaction of the text which finally would become Nostra aetate, there was a close connection between ecumenism and the relationship with Israel. The Declaration on the Relationship of the Church to Non-Christian Religions was slowly elaborated following on from the prior question of Judaism, which was essential according to John XXIII.  Indeed, the Pope had asked Cardinal Bea to oversee the Secretariat for Promoting Christian Unity and, at the same time, to write a text about the relationship with Judaism.5

4  “There are now many good contacts between the Catholic Church and many Protestant Churches, between the Secretariat for Christian Unity and the World Council of Churches— the ecumenical movement is driven by the Spirit of the Lord. But do not forget, there is only one really important, deep ecumenical question: our relation to Israel.” Quoted in Adriaan Cornelius Rijk, “Ecumenism and Dialogue,” Service international documentation judéochrétienne (SIDIC) Periodical 1, no. 3 (1968): 17. 5  In a book published a few months after Vatican II, Agustin Bea explained that it was the first time that an “Ecumenical Council” considered the question of the relationship with other religions. “Furthermore, instead of confining itself to a purely practical decree or a simple condemnation of anti-Semitism, the Council has approached the problem in the wider context of the relations of the Church with non-Christian religions in general. At the same time it has sought a solution of it at a profoundly biblical level. This is done in such a way that the Declaration may well be said to offer valuable directives for all Christians, irrespective of denominational diversities.” Augustin Bea, The Church and the Jewish people: a Commentary on the Second Vatican Council’s Declaration on the Relation of the Church to non-Christian Religions (New York: Harper & Row, 1966), 7.

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Up until now, even if relations between the Catholic Church and other religious authorities or communities are managed by the Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue, the “religious relations” with Judaism are entrusted to the Commission for Religious Relations with the Jews, which is fully connected with  the Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity since they have the same Cardinal President.6 Influences Between Denominations Moreover, at this ecumenical level, it would be easy to show the reciprocal influences between the statements of different Churches or Communions about the relationship between Christianity and Judaism. The history of these influences began even before the end of World War II, when the Theological Declaration of Barmen (1934) was received and completed in the “Eight Theses of Pomeyrol,”7 written in September 1941 by a group of Protestant ministers and leaders, with the participation of Willem Visser ‘t Hooft who, from 1938 on, was the first Secretary General of the World Council of Churches. After World War II, the Ten Points of the Seelisberg Conference (1947) had a longstanding influence on different denominational statements.8 The participants were Christians from different denominations and, of course, Jews from different backgrounds. Among them, Professor Jules

6  The very name of the “Commission for Religious Relations with the Jews” shows that diplomatic relations between the Holy See and the State of Israel belong to another Curial organism, namely the Secretariat of State. This line of demarcation partially springs from the debates about Nostra Aetate, since part of the powerful opposition to this document came from diplomatic circles connected to Arab states which feared that this text could be interpreted as a recognition of the State of Israel by the Holy See, which however occurred in 1993. 7  In these Protestant theses, the question of Israel was explicitly raised. Cf. Christine Prieto, “Les thèses de Pomeyrol. Une position protestante méconnue,” Autres Temps. Cahiers d’éthique sociale et politique 63, no. 1 (1999): 99–113. 8  “Regarding the evolution of the Jewish-Christian dialogue, it is significant to note that the Commission III [The task of the Churches] recommendations were fully integrated into the Vatican Council II document, Nostra Aetate, attributing to them, from the Roman Catholic side, the authority of a Church Council. Similar things can be said about many documents of the Reformed churches that radically revise their relationship with Jews and Judaism.” Christian Rutishauser, “The 1947 Seelisberg Conference: The Foundation of the Jewish-Christian Dialogue,” Studies in Christian-Jewish Relations 2, no. 2 (2007): 47.

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Isaac (1877–1963) played a prominent role after writing his famous book on the Gospel.9 Other points of contact would be found between the numerous statements of the different denominations, especially after the declaration of the New Delhi Assembly of the World Council of Churches (1961).10 Among these ecumenical convergences, which are not always explicit, it is striking to note how two different contributions concerned the biblical question.11 If most of the Christian denominations seem to refuse any replacement theology and affirm that the covenant with Israel is not revoked, the interpretation of the “First” Testament raises difficult questions since, for centuries, the Jewish interpretation of the Bible was completely discredited. Even if neither of these two documents explicitly quotes a text from another Church, the convergence between the statements is striking, especially when both recognize that the Jewish interpretation of the Bible is not only legitimate but fertile for Christians themselves.12

9  Jules Isaac, Jesus and Israel, ed. Claire Huchet Bishop, trans. Sally Gran (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1971). The first French edition was published in 1948. This famous French historian was dismissed by the Vichy regime, and some members of his family were victims of the Shoah. In this book, he showed the distance between the gospels, which he read in Greek, and the life of the Churches. He founded the French Judeo-Christian Friendship and was received by Pius XII (1949) and then by John XXIII (1960). This last audience is recognized as an important step toward the decision of John XXIII to obtain a text about Judaism from the Council which was to begin in 1962. 10  Even if the First General Assembly of the WCC in Amsterdam (1948) condemned any kind of antisemitism, it is only in 1961 that the accusation of “deicide” was rejected. 11   These Catholic and Protestant texts were published in 2001: Pontifical Biblical Commission, The Jewish People and Their Sacred Scriptures in the Christian Bible (Città del Vaticano: Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 2002); Leuenberger Kirchengemeinschaft, Kirche und Israel: ein Beitrag der reformatorischen Kirchen Europas zum Verhältnis von Christen und Juden (Frankfurt am Main: Otto Lembeck, 2001). German text and English translation (Church and Israel: A Contribution from the Reformation Churches in Europe to the Relationship Between Christians and Jews, mandated by the Executive Committee of the Leuenberg Church Fellowship). 12  The text of the Pontifical Biblical Commission states that “Christians can and ought to admit that the Jewish reading of the Bible is a possible one, in continuity with the Jewish Sacred Scriptures from the Second Temple period, a reading analogous to the Christian reading which developed in parallel fashion” (no. 22). The text from the Leuenberg Conference states: “The Jewish exegesis of the Holy Scriptures of Israel, namely that which is not influenced by faith in the Christ event, contains a perspective which is also not only legitimate but even necessary for the Christian interpretation” (Part II, no. 2.2.7). In his

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The connection between ecumenism and the relationship with Israel is not only a historical or a biblical question, but also a pastoral one, which raises hitherto unseen problems for all denominations facing the different Messianic Jewish Movements. Messianic Movements Even if the number of members of these different Messianic movements is rather small,13 there have always been some Jews who, for very different reasons, have chosen to be baptized. Confronted with these men and women from a Jewish background who asked to become Christians, there used to be a kind of unanimity among the Churches on a practical level, despite the doctrinal differences between Christian denominations. If a Jew wanted to become a Christian, he was requested to refrain from all Jewish customs, even if he still believed himself to be, at the same time, Jew and Christian.14 In the long history of the Churches, there have been explicit rules on some occasions,15 but this “evidence” was completely article, A.  Massini noticed this convergence, cf. Alain Massini, “Genèse du texte de Leuenberg,” Foi et Vie 106, no. 5 (2007): 85. In his first apostolic exhortation Evangelii gaudium (2013), Pope Francis took a further step when he said: “God continues to work among the people of the Old Covenant and to bring forth treasures of wisdom which flow from their encounter with his word. For this reason, the Church also is enriched when she receives the values of Judaism” (no. 249). 13  According to Richard S.  Harvey, an estimation would be 150,000 Christian Jews (of whom 100,000 in the US) among 16 million Jews in the world. Richard S. Harvey, Luther and the Jews: Putting Right the Lies (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2017), 51. 14  Jean-Marie Lustiger (1926–2007), was born Aaron Lustiger. At the age of 15, he was baptized, then became a priest, bishop of Orleans, and cardinal-archbishop of Paris, but still claimed to be Jew. Cf. Jean-Marie Lustiger, Choosing God, Chosen by God: Conversations with Jean-Louis Missika and Dominique Wolton (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1991). Translated by Rebecca Howell Balinski from Le choix de Dieu (Paris: Editions de Fallois, 1987). He is buried inside the cathedral of Notre-Dame; he himself wrote the text of the plaque: “I was born Jewish. I received the name of my paternal grandfather, Aaron. Having become Christian by faith and by baptism, I have remained Jewish as did the Apostles. I have as my patron saints Aaron the High Priest, Saint John the Apostle, Holy Mary full of grace. Named 139th Archbishop of Paris by His Holiness Pope John Paul II, I was enthroned in this Cathedral on 27 February 1981, and here I exercised my entire ministry. Passers-by, pray for me.” 15  For example, the eighth canon of the Second Council of Nicaea (787) seems to punish the Christian Jews who respected the Sabbath. In fact, after a campaign of forced baptism, the aim was to bring about a separation between “real” Christian Jews and others who were asked to live as Jews.

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internalized by most denominations, as a Jew who is baptized has left the people of Israel to become a full member of the Christian Church. This is particularly true in the Catholic Church, as Mark Kinzer noted: “it is rare for those of them [Jews baptized in the Catholic Church] who marry to have children or grandchildren who identify as Jews.”16 He gives a definition of a “Messianic Jew,”17 explaining the rise of these diverse communities, even if they have doctrinal differences and different relationships with Orthodox Judaism. Most of the Messianic movements grew up in a Protestant context, often mistrusting the mainline Churches. But some of them now discover what ecumenism could mean for them, not only between the Messianic movements, but also with other Christian Churches.18 From this point of view, it is interesting to note the “Helsinki Consultation on Jewish Continuity in the Body of Christ”19 which gathers Christian Jews from different ecclesiastical backgrounds. All of them know from experience that it is not easy to be at the same time Jew and Christian! This growing awareness of a Christian unity could be more complex than we imagined up to now, since there are some Christians who wish to stay Jews at the same time. This presents a common challenge to all Churches and ecclesial communities. The connections between different Churches in their slow and painful evolution of ideas regarding the permanency of Israel, to Jewish interpretations of the Bible and to the pastoral and theological questions raised by Messianic movements, show the intertwining of the Ecumenical Movement and Christian relationships with Israel. But this historic glance is not sufficient to illustrate how the actual mystery of Israel could be an effective resource in moving toward Christian unity. Even if it is not yet possible to aim at exhaustiveness, three different ecclesiological questions at least show us how the permanency of God’s chosen people could be a resource for Ecumenism, helping us to identify the very theological questions that address all Churches and ecclesial communities. 16  Mark S.  Kinzer, Searching Her Own Mystery: Nostra Aetate, the Jewish People, and the Identity of the Church (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2015), 17. 17  According to him, “a Jewish disciple of Jesus who lives a traditional Jewish way of life and seeks to be a loyal member of the Jewish people,” Id, 17. 18  Even if this dialogue is rather discreet, since 2000, with the benediction of John Paul II, Messianic Jewish theologians meet regularly with Catholic leaders. This recent book of Mark Kinzer shows the relevance of this ecumenical concern, because he seeks from his Protestant background to study some dogmatic texts, especially those of Vatican II. 19  See the website http://helsinkiconsultation.squarespa (Accessed: 15 September, 2017).

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Questions and Resources: The Grace of God and the Mystery of Israel For many Churches, indeed, the permanency of Israel throughout its troubled history is now interpreted as a concrete sign of God’s mercy for all humankind. However, the fact that this permanency, and the awareness of the questions it raises, could be a resource for Christian unity is not so obvious, since some questions critically divide denominations, especially those regarding the political situation in Israel and Palestine, and sometimes lead to intense divisions inside the different Churches. A Dividing Issue Denominational illustrations could easily be provided, both on the pastoral and theological levels. For example, in the Catholic Church organizing a pilgrimage to the Holy Land can be a rather complicated affair. Some consider the Holy Land just as a setting for their spiritual and biblical journey; others are eager to meet “real” people, especially from Palestine, and may leave the Holy Land with anti-Zionist feelings which could become, at worst, anti-Judaism. Still other pilgrims are not able to realize the difficult situation of Palestinians—even those who are citizens of Israel—especially when the pilgrimage involves no stop-over in Palestinian territories. Another difficult question in the Catholic Church is the agenda of the Society of Saint Pius X: it is obvious that Pope Francis, like his predecessors, wants a reconciliation. But the question of Vatican II and, especially, of Nostra aetate §4, will be very difficult, as Benedict XVI has himself experienced. The longstanding debate about the hermeneutics of Vatican II on this point mix political, doctrinal, and liturgical questions,20 and it is by no means obvious that these issues, particularly those concerning

20  In their contribution, Marianne Moyaert and Didier Pollefeyt explained the background of the difficulties Benedict XVI met with Summorum pontificum (2007), the motu proprio liberalizing the “extraordinary form” of the Roman Rite, that is the eucharist celebrated according to the typical edition of the Roman Missal which was promulgated by John XXIII in 1962. A polemical question was raised about the famous prayer for Jews in the Good Friday liturgy. Marianne Moyaert and Didier Pollefeyt, Never Revoked. Nostra Aetate as Ongoing Challenge for Jewish-Christian Dialogue (Leuven; Walpole, MA: Peeters; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2010).

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relations with Israel raised by the forthcoming reconciliation of the Society of Saint Pius X within the Catholic Church, will find lasting solutions. While being aware of these debates between and within denominations, it is nonetheless possible to address three different ecclesiological questions, raised by the ongoing alliance with Israel as a concrete sign of God’s mercy, which could eventually be fruitful if Churches and ecclesial communities agree to face up to them together, especially if Christians from a Jewish background are to belong to a special community, fully integrated but not completely merged into the Church. Interpreting the New Testament The first question concerns the influence of the relationship between the Church and Israel on the hermeneutics of the New Testament. Since the middle of the last century, ecumenical reflection on the divisions within Christianity has focused on what is sometimes called the first “schism,” that is, the separation between Jews and Christians. Seeking to explain how separations are possible, some authors noted that, from the very beginning, this division within the people of God forced the idea of excommunication and exclusion, even if this is completely at odds with the universal reconciliation in Christ which is clearly stated in the New Testament. Acts 15 is then understood as the first “council,”21 since Luke shows how the first Christians tried to overcome the separation between Jews and pagans regarding the question of the necessity of circumcision. Today, exegesis pays attention to the literary construction by Luke, together with Acts 10, pondering on the relationship between the meeting in Jerusalem and the incident at Antioch (Ga 2, 11–21). Moreover, on the historical level, we have less certainty about the “partition” between Church and

21  This non-biblical expression is to be found in contemporary Evangelical literature, for example: Jeffery Morton and Harley Talman, “Does the Jerusalem Council of Acts 15 Support Insider Movement Practices?”, Evangelical Review of Theology 37, no. 4 (2013): 308–20. But this expression existed also in Catholic texts, especially when they try to explain what a council is. For example, Yves Congar noted that, in the Middle Ages, some theologians found up to eight councils in the Acts. He added that this quality of “council” for Acts 15 is questionable from his point of view. Cf. Yves Congar, Le concile de Vatican II: son Église, peuple de Dieu et corps du Christ (Paris: Beauchesne, 1984), 34. This text was previously published in Concilium, no. 187 (1983).

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Synagogue,22 not only because we have evidence of intimate relations between Jews and Christians in the first centuries of Christianity, as shown by the eighth canon of Nicaea II (787) already quoted, but also because we are better informed concerning the complexities of Judaism at the time of the beginnings of the Church as well as the diversity of the first Christian groups. These historiographical evolutions have helped interpreters of the New Testament to understand the different books not primarily as a historical account of the first Christian communities, but as the very place in which are recounted the first debates and which offer the first interpretations concerning the ecclesial consequences of the resurrection of Christ for Jews and pagans. Since we know better than before that Israel is a living reality today, gathering Jews in God’s covenant, and since we know that a small portion of these Jews are, at the same time, Christians, we cannot but interpret the Scriptures within the ongoing relationship between Israel and the Church. For example, what is the meaning of the fact that, in the gospel according to Matthew, the same Jesus says: “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel” (Mt 15, 24) and, after his resurrection, “go and make disciples of all nations” (Mt 28, 19)? How can we explain that the last parable of Luke 15 is the only one in the New Testament to be unfinished, since we do not know what the elder brother will do after the invitation of the father to join the banquet with the youngest? There could be different answers to such biblical questions, but these answers must account for the fact that Israel is a living people. Even if our context is completely different from that of the first century in the eastern part of the Roman Empire, debates and polemics about the Church and Israel are enduring, and always influence the interpretation of the Bible. From this first point of view, there could be no biblical hermeneutics without taking into consideration the unique people of God, which is, at one and the same time, one and complex, Israel and the Church. Hence, reading and interpreting the Bible always imply becoming aware of the ecclesial position we hold within an ensemble which is more mottled than a supersessionist ecclesiology would allow. And this unavoidable link

22  Daniel Boyarin, Border Lines: the Partition of Judaeo-Christianity (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004). The theses of Boyarin gave rise to various polemics: see Adam H.  Becker, Annette Yoshiko Reed, ed., The Ways That Never Parted: Jews and Christians in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2007).

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between Bible and Church is also highlighted for a second reason, namely the newly awakened awareness of “the never revoked Alliance.” The “canonical process” In the long history of the Churches, there has always been a struggle to consider the whole Bible, with its two main parts as at one and the same time different and united, since the “Marcionite” temptation is always close to hand, in preaching, in catechism, in Bible study, even in theology. The longstanding struggle within the Church to determine which parts of the Scriptures are normative—what James A. Sanders called the “canonical process”23—took on a new importance with Martin Luther. As Rasmussen explained, “His protest against ‘tradition’ (in Luther’s terminology this meant first of all the councils and the Pope, but also the Church Fathers) as a necessary and normative context for interpreting the Bible forced upon him a new answer to the question of church authority.”24 Even if Luther had taken over from his theological education the conceptions of the biblical canon of the theology of the Middle Ages, his main principle of the justification by faith led him to a hierarchy within the canon of Scripture, with hesitations concerning the letter of James, for example, which seems to refute the doctrine of justification by faith alone. Indeed, Luther always had two interlocutors, not only his Curial opponents, but also the Schwärmgeister, whose enthusiastic interpretation of the Bible gave, according to him, too large a place to subjectivity. Against Roman authority, he appealed to biblical principles. Against too excited and sometimes revolutionary Christians, he appealed to his own doctoral authority. Thus, Martin Luther, throughout his life, in his work of translation and interpretation of the Bible, produced not only a new tradition of reading the Scriptures which eventually became an orthodoxy, but also a new approach to the canon, what is usually called “a canon within the canon.”25 23  James A.  Sanders, Torah and Canon, 2nd edition (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2005), 136–41. 24  Tarald Rasmussen, “The Biblical Canon of the Lutheran Reformation,” in Einar Thomassen, Canon and Canonicity. The Formation and Use of Scripture (Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum Press, 2010), 143–58. 25  Of course, the canon is a list of authorized books for liturgy and teaching, but it also refers to the structure of both the Old and the New Testament. For example, biblical intertextuality would be rather different depending on whether the Old Testament is

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In this way, Martin Luther provides a good illustration of the fact that it is not possible to conceive of the canon as a simple list which was given once and for all, but that there exists a permanent question of biblical hermeneutics for the Churches throughout their complicated histories, which alone would explain the differences between different confessions regarding the canon. Moreover, thanks to historical and exegetical discoveries, our representations of the conception of the Hebrew canon have slightly changed. We are more aware of the complexities of the constitution of this canon, especially as regards the differences between the Septuagint and the Massoretic Text, because of the rivalry between Jewish and Christian-Jewish groups which may have interfered in the transmission of biblical traditions. Even if not completely in the same way, both Old and New Testaments are witnesses to the interaction between a text and a people. Hence, it is not possible to read the Bible without considering the people of God who, at the same time, decides what is the canon and hears “the word of God with reverence” (Dei verbum §1). Since there is no list of authorized books in any part of the Bible, since biblical intertextuality is sometimes wider than the official canons, since the transmission, the translation, and the commentary—and, above all, the closure—of the Scriptures are always actions implemented by the people of God, we are now aware of the intimate relationships between the Bible and the people of God. Even in the Catholic Church, the decision of the Council of Trent concerning the biblical canon received its authority from the whole Church, and not only from the conciliar assembly, nor from the Pope.26 But, at the same time, the Scriptures are confessed to be received from God himself, especially in the liturgy. Vatican II’s Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy states that Christ “is present in His word, since it is He Himself who speaks when the Holy Scriptures are read in the Church” (Sacrosanctum concilium, §7). structured in three or four parts. This difference can have serious consequences for “fulfillment” theology, that is, the relationship between Old and New Testaments in Jesus Christ. 26  Indeed, the criterion is an ecclesiological one: the canon is defined by the use of the Church, both on the liturgical and doctrinal levels. During the fourth session of the Council of Trent (1546), the first decree affirms: “But if any one receive not, as sacred and canonical, the said books entire with all their parts, as they have been used to be read in the Catholic Church, and as they are contained in the old Latin vulgate edition; and knowingly and deliberately contemn the traditions aforesaid; let him be anathema.” http://www. thecounciloftrent.com/

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This hermeneutic circle existing between the Bible and the people of God, of which we are now aware since we know better the complexities of the constitution of the canons of both the Old and New Testaments, has ecclesiological repercussions. It is no longer possible to separate completely, on the one hand, the Bible, which is this complex collection of books whose binding is the work of the Church alone, and, on the other hand, the people of God, who is this not less complex articulation of Israel and Christian communities.27 As Martin Luther himself witnesses, Sola Scriptura does not mean a simple printed text, but always a text collected and handed down by the Church. Since the different parts of the New Testament show the importance of liturgy as the melting pot for the slow constitution of the biblical texts, and since these very texts express the progressive construction of a Christian doctrine along with the affirmation of the Church ministers’ authority, the Lambeth Quadrilateral may find a new pertinence since it seeks to include in a unique and complex system all the Christian ordinances.28 The constitution of the canon of Holy Scripture, which is the primary authority for all Christian communities, is a process which implies, at one and the same time, the existence of different liturgies which are regulated as Paul demonstrates in the First letter to the Corinthians, explanations of the Christian kerygma as the same Paul shows in the Letter to the Romans, and a Christian ministry whose profile depends largely on Paul’s personal example as we see in the “Pastoral” letters which are 27  In a 1993 text, the Pontifical Biblical Commission introduced the word “mirror” for a modeling of the relations between the Bible and the Church. “In discerning the canon of Scripture, the church was also discerning and defining her own identity. Henceforth Scripture was to function as a mirror in which the church could continually rediscover her identity and assess, century after century, the way in which she constantly responds to the Gospel and equips herself to be an apt vehicle of its transmission.” Pontifical Biblical Commission, The Interpretation of the Bible in the Church (1993), III.B.1. 28  Cf. Robert B.  Slocum, “The Chicago-Lambeth Quadrilateral: Development in an Anglican Approach to Christian Unity,” Journal of Ecumenical Studies 33, no. 4 (1996): 471–86. From the nineteenth century, the Chicago-Lambeth Quadrilateral states that Christian unity requires four elements: Scripture, creeds, sacraments (essentially, baptism and eucharist), episcopate. For obvious reasons, the last element has been differently interpreted, and is still questioned. “Churches remain divided, however, as to whether or not the “historic episcopate” (meaning bishops ordained in apostolic succession back to the earliest generations of the Church), or the apostolic succession of ordained ministry more generally, is something intended by Christ for his community.” The Church. Towards a Common Vision, no. 47 (Faith and Order Paper No. 214, Geneva: World Council of Churches, 2013), 27.

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probably written by some of his disciples under his patronage. Indeed, these four regulations still exist in the New Testament, and they are essential to Christianity, even if different denominations do not completely agree on the relationship between them. Thus, one of the exegetical and theological questions which is addressed by the permanency of Israel is certainly the place of the “canonical process,” for the New Testament as for the Old Testament. But, from the ecclesiological point of view, the complexification of the constitution of the Bible has serious consequences for the articulation of the different Christian regulations. For example, the question of the “historic episcopate” is not to be separated from the importance of Paul in the New Testament. Even if there is in the New Testament a diversity in the conception of ministries, Paul’s model of regulation was to be largely received as shown by the place of Pauline literature in the whole Bible. The role of Paul, however, cannot be separated from the question of relations between Jews and pagans in early Christianity. In this way, the permanency of Israel and the existence of Jewish Christians can lead to a renewal of the structure of Christian ordinances. But there could be an even greater impact of these lines of evolution with regard to the way in which the People of God continues its pilgrimage in human history. The Kingdom and Human History Indeed, there is a third ecclesiological question which, more than the others, offers new opportunities for Christian unity. It is not only a biblical question, nor a question of ordinances, but a more fundamental question about the relationship between Christianity and Judaism because, since 1948, the same word “Israel” means the people of God and a state among the other states of the world. We have already referred to some of the pastoral difficulties for Christian pilgrimages to which this situation gives rise, and there are also many divisions between denominations concerning Zionism, depending on their biblical hermeneutics and their connections with Palestinians. The position of the Catholic Church has slowly changed, from the first reactions of Pope Pius X when he received Theodor Herzl,29 through the 29  Theodor Herzl (1860–1904), founder of the World Zionist Organization, described this audience on 25 January 1904 when Pius X explained to him that the Holy See is unable to help the Zionist movement, stating that the Jews did not recognize Jesus Christ, and

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first journey of Paul VI to the “Holy Land,”30 to the Fundamental Agreement between the Holy See and the State of Israel signed on 30 December 1993. Of course, we know that the process is not yet finished, since some technical questions must be finalized, but the first words of the Agreement show that the horizon is not only diplomatic.31 Indeed, by this recognition, some theological questions are raised which are common to Judaism and Christianity, even if the answers may diverge. From the fall of Jerusalem in 70 AD up to 1948, Judaism existed as a “religion” without any political realization, though fully alive in the Diaspora. The question of existence as a nation could only be a prayer or a dream and became a powerful political driving force in the Zionist movement. In the case of Christianity, from the conversion of Constantine onward, the articulation between faith and politics has always been a painful question, with divisive consequences between the denominations. Yet, the World Council of Churches had its first General Assembly in 1948, and the State of Israel was proclaimed the same year. Of course, we know that the people of Israel does not coincide with the State of Israel, since there are non-Jewish citizens or inhabitants of the State of Israel, and since most Jews want to live their Judaism in their own countries, even if each year many Jews make the “Aliyah” to Israel. From this point of view, both “Church” and “Israel” indicate a political but non-national reality, even if the connections between Jews and the State of Israel have no Christian equivalent. In any case, these two words designate a singular political body, which challenges the “separation” between religion and politics, because faith in God generates a social and political group. According to the Jewish faith, Israel is a “little” people (Deuteronomy 7:7), gathered by God, to be God’s witness before all nations. And the constitution of a partially separated group finds its finality in the eschatological meeting of all nations. Fulfilling this vocation in therefore Christians cannot help Jewish organizations. Theodor Herzl, Journal (1895–1904). Le fondateur du sionisme parle (Paris: Calmann-Lévy, 1990), 374–77. 30  Even if he greeted the “authorities” when he left the Hebrew state to return to Jordan, on 5 January 1964, Paul VI never pronounced the word “Israel” in order to avoid any recognition which could upset Arab countries. 31  “The Holy See and the State of Israel, mindful of the singular character and universal significance of the Holy Land; aware of the unique nature of the relationship between the Catholic Church and the Jewish people, and of the historic process of reconciliation and growth in mutual understanding and friendship between Catholics and Jews; […].” Source: www.vatican.va.

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Jesus Christ, the Christian Church is only a prolepsis of the coming Kingdom of God, as stated by Lumen gentium §9. Even though there are differences among denominations in this articulation between the Kingdom of God and the Church, all face the same ecclesiological questions: what is the relationship between the coming Kingdom of God and the present history of humanity? Up to what point is it possible to anticipate this eschatological kingdom in a political body, with all the ambiguities that human life implies? How is it possible to embody the grace of God even on a political level? Despite the differences between the Christian Churches and Israel, we all stand together in this extraordinary combination of contradiction and necessity. We could help one another to avoid major mistakes, which itself would constitute a dramatic development. And the presence of Judaism in such a matter could, at the same time, help all Christian denominations to relativize their differences and to increase their awareness of what they receive today from Israel. The permanency of Israel could be the most powerful remedy against Christians’ obliviousness of the eschatological reservation. The existence of the State of Israel could provide an excellent way of urging Christians of different denominations to new thinking in Church and political questions. Facing together the mystery of Israel might also lead Christians to the avoidance of any anti-Judaism, even if this operation could be very painful. It can help Christians to become deeply aware of what ecumenism means. It means that the main question is the political realization, in a globalized world, of the Christian faith, which at the same time waits for the heavenly Kingdom and pays attention to the poorest among us. Then, different Churches and ecclesial communities might shed light on the articulation between Christian ordinances, of which the episcopate may not be the most complicated. Lastly, ecumenical movements may look for a biblical model of unity, while rejecting any political models like monarchy, federation, or other associations. Unity among Christians implies necessarily a relationship with Israel, refusing both supersessionism and parallelism. Unity is to be found in the Bible itself—which is a book brought into being through the People of God. Moreover, appreciating the mystery of Israel leads Christians to recognize that, in ecclesiology, the fundamental questions are the most urgent. In public debates, there should be a place for fundamental theology; this implies also that we, as professional theologians, would be tasked with addressing these issues in a public debate, in such a way that everybody can understand and become participants. Here is the challenge!

CHAPTER 9

From Conflict to Communion: Ecclesiology at the Center of Recent Lutheran-Orthodox Dialogues and the 2016 Orthodox Council of Crete Radu Bordeianu

Five hundred years ago, Martin Luther published ninety-five theses in which he expressed his grievances with his own Catholic Church. To mark this anniversary, I set out a while ago to write a list of ninety-five grievances with my own Orthodox Church. I quickly wrote my first twenty-­ two objections and then I suddenly stopped. Where would this exercise take me, if I got to twenty-two so quickly and so passionately? Would I have as much love as Martin Luther’s love for his own Church to be able This essay was first published in Worship 91, November (2017): 518-39. Reprinted here with permission. R. Bordeianu (*) Duquesne University, Pittsburgh, PA, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 G. Mannion et al. (eds.), Ecumenical Perspectives Five Hundred Years After Luther’s Reformation, Pathways for Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-68360-3_9

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to list ninety-five grievances and yet attempt to remain in it—something that I admire greatly? Although I abandoned this exercise after twenty-­ two points, one thing became clear: my theses all boil down to the tension between two types of ecclesiology: inclusivist and exclusivist. The thought and practice of the majority of laity, clergy, monastics, theologians, and bishops represent the inclusivist position, while a small, yet influential minority of ultraconservative monastics and bishops impose the exclusivist stance, a closed attitude in both pastoral life and ecumenism. These intra-­ Orthodox dynamics came into the spotlight at the Holy and Great Orthodox Council that took place in Crete in 2016. Future ecumenical dialogues—which now have a conciliar mandate—depend on the reception of this Council. This chapter first briefly outlines the history of the Orthodox-Lutheran dialogue to show its progress and document its ecclesiological turn. Then, to anticipate the direction of future dialogues, I focus on three ecclesiological themes that were prominent in Crete: the designation of Western Christians as “churches,” the interference of worldly–political  concerns with church unity, and Orthodoxy’s commitment to ecumenism.

Orthodox-Lutheran Dialogue In 1558 Patriarch Joasaph II of Constantinople sent deacon Demetrios Mysos to Wittenberg to learn about the Reformation. The deacon stayed with Philip Melanchthon for several months in 1559, and together they worked on a Greek translation of the Augsburg Confession. Melanchthon then addressed the Ecumenical Patriarch in writing, hoping that Orthodox and Reformers would come together, united by their common allegiance to the decisions of the early councils and patristic writings, as well as by their tense relations with Catholicism and Islam.1 After Melanchthon’s death in 1560 cut short this encounter and thus the translation of the Augsburg Confession never reached the Patriarch, in 1573, several theologians from Tübingen established the first major Lutheran-Orthodox dialogue with Ecumenical Patriarch Jeremias II in correspondence form.2 Upon receiving the professors’ letter in 1574, the Patriarch established a 1   John Travis, “Orthodox-Lutheran Relations: Their Historical Beginnings,” Greek Orthodox Theological Review 29, no. 4 (1984): 304. 2  Risto Saarinen, Faith and Holiness: Lutheran-Orthodox Dialogue 1959–1994 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1997), 16.

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committee of Orthodox theologians to discuss the Augsburg Confession and respond. The Lutheran theologians then replied in 1577; the Patriarch responded in 1579 and the professors wrote back in 1580. The entire correspondence, totaling nearly 300 pages, was published in Wittenberg in 1584.3 The tradition begun in the sixteenth century continued in modern Lutheran-Orthodox bilateral dialogues. The Evangelical Church in Germany (EKD) and the Russian Orthodox Church have engaged in dialogue since 1959, then other local dialogues followed suit. Beginning in 1967, both the Ecumenical Patriarchate and the Lutheran World Federation (LWF) began the process of expanding these local dialogues to a global level. This gradual process bore fruit with the establishment of the Joint Commission for Theological Dialogue between the LWF and the Orthodox Church, which first met in Espoo, Finland, in 1981.4 Over the years, the Orthodox-Lutheran dialogues have reached agreements regarding essential topics such as Trinitarian theology, the apostolic authority of ecumenical councils, the inspiration of scripture, and soteriology. This international dialogue took a decisive ecclesiological turn in 1990, and since then, the Joint Commission discussed the following themes: The Ecumenical Councils (1993, Sandbjerg, Denmark); Understanding of Salvation in the Light of the Ecumenical Councils (1995, Limassol, Cyprus); Salvation: Grace, Justification and Synergy (1998, Sigtuna, Sweden); Word and Sacraments (Mysteria) in the Life of the Church (2000, Damascus, Syria); Mysteria/Sacraments as Means of Salvation (2002, Oslo, Norway); Baptism and Chrismation as Sacraments of Initiation into the Church (2004, Durau, Romania); The Mystery of the Church/The Holy Eucharist in the Life of the Church (2006, Bratislava, Slovak Republic); The Mystery of the Church: The Holy Eucharist in the Life of the Church (2008, Paphos, Cyprus); The Mystery of the Church: The Nature, Attributes and Mission of the Church (2011, Lutherstadt Wittenberg, Germany); and a discussion of

 See more in Travis, “Orthodox-Lutheran Relations,” 305–07.  For more on the history of the Lutheran-Orthodox dialogue, see Council of EKD, Wort und Mysterium: Der Briefwechsel über Glauben und Kirche 1573 bis 1581 zwischen den Tübinger Theologen und dem Patriarchat von Konstantinopel (Witten: Luther Verlag, 1958). Reinhard Thöle and Martin Illert. Wörterbuch zu den bilateralen theologischen Dialogen zwischen der Evangelischen Kirche in Deutschland und orthodoxen Kirchen (1959–2013) (Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2014). 3 4

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the theme of Ordained Ministry/Priesthood in the life of the Church without producing a final statement (2015, Rhodes, Greece).5 When the time came to evaluate the work of the Joint Commission, a May 2011 inter-Orthodox meeting in Athens issued a generally positive report and committed itself to continuing the dialogue. It did not hesitate to refer to Lutherans as “Church.”6 The dialogue continued on this ecclesiological path up to the latest meeting of the Preparatory Committee in Nicosia in 2016.7 Co-chaired by LWF Vice-President Bishop Dr. Christoph Klein of Romania, and Metropolitan Gennadios of Sassima representing the Ecumenical Patriarchate, the committee analyzed the Draft Statement of Rhodes (2015) and enriched it by providing new perspectives on the theme of Ministry/Priesthood as Lutheran and Orthodox members saw it reflected in the Bible, the early Church and the Middle Ages, focusing on the relationship between the ordained and royal priesthood and between the episcopate and apostolic succession. Moreover, the committee made its own preparations to mark the 500th anniversary of the Reformation during the seventeenth Plenary Session of the Joint Commission in Helsinki, Finland, November 7–14, 2017.8 Regardless of that meeting’s formal agenda, discussions will undoubtedly revolve around the Council of Crete.

The 2016 Council of Crete and Its Preparation The Council reaffirmed the Orthodox commitment to ecumenism, thereby giving the Lutheran-Orthodox bilateral dialogue a conciliar mandate. Unfortunately, the document on “The relations of the Orthodox 5   Documents of the Joint Commission are available at http://blogs.helsinki.fi/ ristosaarinen/lutheran-orthodox-dialogue/ and http://www.strasbourginstitute.org/en/ dialogues/lutheran-orthodox-dialogue/. 6  Theodoros Meimaris, “Thirty Years of the International Theological Dialogue between Orthodox and Lutherans (1981–2011): Evaluation and Prospects,” Greek Orthodox Theological Review 58, no. 1–4 (2013): 189–91. 7  As a general description of these dialogues, Saarinen notes a reluctance of Orthodox participants to commit to a concrete ecclesiology, be it a eucharistic or a communion ecclesiology. Even when Lutheran participants opened up to the possibility of integrating external marks such as apostolicity and ordained ministry, the Orthodox retreated further back into canonical forms of school theology, which hindered the progress of the dialogue. Saarinen, Faith and Holiness, 263–65. 8   h t t p s : / / w w w . l u t h e r a n w o r l d . o r g / n e w s / lutheran-orthodox-commission-celebrate-reformation-anniversary.

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Church with the rest of the Christian World”9 (hereafter, “On ecumenism”) also took some steps backward. Whereas pre-conciliar drafts referred to Western Christians as “churches,” the final document used expressions such as “historical designations of churches and confessions,” which were meant to appease ultraconservative concerns, but in the end satisfied no one. To better understand Crete’s ecclesiology and its historical origins, in the remainder of this chapter I focus on three themes as they have evolved over the past hundred years: the designation of Western Christians as “churches,” nationalistic pressures, and commitment to ecumenism.

Church and Churches The Council of Crete promised to be pastorally oriented and not proclaim any new dogmas. But practical realities are always rooted in theology and in turn influence theology. In addressing pastoral situations—some of which have prompted my twenty-two theses—and ecumenical dialogues, the Council tried to accommodate two competing ecclesiologies. On the one hand, it displayed traits of what I would call an inclusivist ecclesiology that regards the Orthodox Church as the fullness of the Una Sancta—the Church—but sees others, to differing degrees, as also part of the Church. This inclusivist ecclesiology is reflected in the pre-conciliar drafts, the views of the majority of participating bishops, most of the Orthodox faithful and representative theologians. On the other hand, the Council also adopted what could be regarded as an exclusivist ecclesiology that regards Orthodoxy as the totality of the Una Sancta in which other Christians have no place. This exclusivist ecclesiology represents the root cause of Crete’s hesitancy to refer to Western Christians as “churches,” a hesitancy rooted in the insistence of a minority of bishops representing a smaller—but vocal—group of faithful, especially monastics. Because in official dialogues Orthodoxy is oftentimes represented by some of its more conservative elements, the statements issuing from these dialogues are as minimalist as possible, and participants justifiably fear rejection by the so-called traditionalist circles within Orthodoxy. Pantelis Kalaitzidis identifies the latter primarily with the council of elders of Mt. Athos who have forcefully replaced the rest of Orthodoxy as the judges of Orthodoxy, in the sense that they claim an authority that was not delegated to them. Their 2012 “Confession of Faith” denounces 9

 https://www.holycouncil.org/official-documents.

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ecumenism as a heresy and refers to the bishops involved in ecumenism as heretics and apostates. Hence the monks at Mt. Athos do not consider themselves under the obedience of these specific bishops.10 Moreover, in April 2014, Metropolitans Andrew and Seraphim of the Church of Greece wrote an eighty-nine-page letter to “His Excellency Francis, Head of State of the Vatican City, Rome” in which they denounce what they perceive as numerous heresies and false doctrines related to the Papacy—thirty-one such teachings in just one paragraph! To date, the Greek Synod has not disciplined the two Metropolitans and they continue to oppose ecumenism and the Council of Crete. These ultraconservative circles are not confined to Mt. Athos and some insular bishops. The issue is so pressing that the delegates of all autocephalous Orthodox churches that met in 1998 in Thessaloniki declared that they “unanimously denounced those groups of schismatics, as well as certain extremist groups within the local Orthodox Churches themselves, that are using the theme of ecumenism in order to criticize the Church leadership and undermine its authority, thus attempting to created divisions and schisms in the Church”11 Without similar bold references to “schismatic” and “extremist” groups, Crete’s document on ecumenism attempts to preserve this idea in par. 22, adding that individuals should not consider their authority higher than that of a council: The Orthodox Church considers all efforts to break the unity of the Church, undertaken by individuals or groups under the pretext of maintaining or allegedly defending true Orthodoxy, as being worthy of condemnation. As evidenced throughout the life of the Orthodox Church, the preservation of the true Orthodox faith is ensured only through the conciliar system, which has always represented the highest authority in the Church on matters of faith and canonical decrees (Canon 6, 2nd Ecumenical Council).

In the aftermath of the Council of Crete, some few but very vocal Orthodox priests and bishops in Greece protested the Council, gathered followers, and stopped commemorating the bishops who signed the document on ecumenism. In response, the Ecumenical Patriarchate 10  Pantelis Kalaitzidis, “Quelques réflexions conclusives au term du colloque,” Contacts 243(2013): 624–25. 11  Thomas FitzGerald and Peter Bouteneff, eds., Turn to God, Rejoice in Hope: Orthodox Reflections on the Way to Harare: The Report of the WCC Orthodox Pre-Assembly Meeting and Selected Resource Materials (Geneva: Orthodox Task Force, WCC, 1998), 136.

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officially appealed to the Greek Synod to discipline these clerics, but to no avail. Three of the four churches that ended up absenting themselves from Crete, namely the Patriarchates of Georgia, Bulgaria, and Russia (Antioch did not have insurmountable difference in this regard), also advocated these positions before the Council of Crete. I cannot identify any distinguished contemporary Orthodox theologian who would advocate this exclusivist position, despite the ultraconservatives’ undocumented claim that this position is in accordance with the Orthodox tradition and the Fathers.12 These two opposing ecclesiologies resulted in internally contradictory statements. For example, the first paragraph on the document on ecumenism refers to the Orthodox Church “as the One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church”—in other words, the Una Sancta confessed in the Creed—without any qualification that would make this statement less exclusivist. But throughout the rest of the document, it clearly treats Western Christians as belonging to the Church, sometimes accepting their historical designation as “churches” (par. 6), or even speaking outright of the WCC as made up of “non-Orthodox Christian Churches and Confessions” in par. 16. These compromises that the Council of Crete ended up adopting proved unsatisfactory. Here are just two examples. Instead of acknowledging the Church’s lack of unity as the inclusivist position would, the Council referred to the quest for “the unity of all Christians” (par. 5) so as not to give the impression that the Church can be anything other than one, as exclusivist ecclesiology claims. Furthermore, in par. 6 the Council affirms: 12  The clearest synodal instance of the exclusivist position came after the Council on November 15, 2016, when the Synod of the Bulgarian Orthodox Church adopted a declaration on Crete’s document on ecumenism. In my opinion, the declaration is gravely lacking a solid theological foundation, honesty, and good will. Delving into obscure incursions into theories of created grace, models of Christian unity that Crete explicitly rejected, and Vatican II’s Decree on Ecumenism (the only quote provided in the entire document), the Bulgarian Patriarchate affirms without offering any evidence: “With regards to the search for the ‘lost unity of all Christians’ expressed and asserted in paragraph 5, we deem this unacceptable and inadmissible, inasmuch as the Orthodox Church never lost its internal unity despite heresies and schisms which represent a breaking away from the Body of the Church, by which the Body does not lose its initial ontological integrity, which consists in the ontological indivisibility of Christ’s Hypostasis. … no heretical or schismatic community can be called ‘Church.’ The presence of a multitude of churches is unacceptable, according to the dogmas and canons of the Orthodox Church.” Pravoslavie.ru, December 2.

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In accordance with the ontological nature of the Church, her unity can never be perturbed. In spite of this, the Orthodox Church accepts the historical name of other non-Orthodox Christian Churches and Confessions that are not in communion with her, and believes that her relations with them should be based on the most speedy and objective clarification possible of the whole ecclesiological question, and most especially of their more general teachings on sacraments, grace, priesthood, and apostolic succession.

First, the ecclesiological themes mentioned at the end of par. 6 represent the focus of the Joint Lutheran-Orthodox Commission, underlining the relevance of the Lutheran-Orthodox dialogue today. Second, the document leaves the expression “ontological nature of the Church” unexplained, but seems to oppose a theoretical and ontological reality of the Church that remains one with the historical and phenomenological reality of a disunited Church. The theological and pastoral consequences of this opposition are significant and the Council should have been more concerned with the effects of their statement than with reaching a compromise.13 Other examples of expressions meant to replace the straightforward term “church” are the rather confusing and historically inaccurate description found in par. 20 of the Council’s Encyclical, which speaks of “those who have severed themselves from communion with [the Orthodox Church],” as if all Western Christians originated in a schism from Orthodoxy (certainly not the case of Lutherans!), and the preferable expression, “the rest of the Christian world” used in the document on ecumenism par. 8. This latter expression, however, is not ideal, either, since it projects a negative identity upon Western Christianity. Churches do not define their identity as non-other, but in fairness, such expressions are sometimes unavoidable. Clearly, referring to Western Christians as “churches” represents a contested point today, highlighting the tensions between inclusivist and exclusivist ecclesiologies. This is a very recent phenomenon, however. As 13  Georges Florovsky—though not solving the problem—was much more nuanced when he wrote about the tragedy of schisms in which the Church remains in a sense united but also suffers from schisms, the paradoxical character of division, and the abnormal state of a disunited Christianity, where no theology can properly explain how we are “separated brethren”—a paradox that deals both with our unity and our disunity. Georges Florovsky, “The Tragedy of Christian Divisions,” in Ecumenism I: A Doctrinal Approach, Collected Works of Georges Florovsky, Emeritus Professor of Eastern Church History, Harvard University; vol. 13 (Belmont, MA: Nordland, 1989), 28–33.

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early as 1902, the Ecumenical Patriarchate consulted all major Orthodox sees on the initiation of dialogue with the West. In 1904, Patriarch Joachim III of Constantinople issued a letter that included the responses of the other Orthodox sees, calling for a dialogue with the Western churches, which he called “holy local Churches of God.” Most notable is the unprecedented 1920 invitation of the Ecumenical Patriarchate “unto the Churches of Christ everywhere” to form a fellowship (koinonia) of churches.14 This invitation, which became programmatic for the ecumenical movement, included a request for common agreement: “we earnestly ask and invite the judgment and the opinion of the other sister churches in the East and of the venerable Christian churches in the West and everywhere in the world.”15 This initiative was the result of an intra-Orthodox consultation process, and all local Orthodox churches felt the urgency to act together toward Christian unity. Hence, the 1923 Pan-Orthodox Congress in Constantinople first proposed the idea of a Pan-Orthodox Council; in 1930 a preparatory commission was set up in Vatopeti on Mount Athos, unfortunately with limited results.16 The next major development in Orthodoxy’s relationship with the West was the founding of the World Council of Churches in Amsterdam in 1948. All Orthodox churches were invited to be founding members and, indeed, some accepted right away, while the rest waited until 1961 to join the WCC,17 having only transitory qualms about referring to others as “churches” and being involved in ecumenism. These transitory qualms refer to the Orthodox churches behind the Iron Curtain that invoked ecclesiological reasons for not joining the WCC at the 1948 synod that took place in the USSR. Their concerns were answered shortly thereafter in 1950 at Toronto, when the WCC stated that its members recognize in other churches elements of the true Church, but are not obligated to

14  Gennadios Limouris, ed. Orthodox Visions of Ecumenism: Statements, Messages and Reports of the Ecumenical Movement 1902–1992 (Geneva: WCC Publications, 1994), 9–11. 15  Michael Kinnamon and Brian E. Cope, The Ecumenical Movement: An Anthology of Key Texts and Voices (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1997), 12–13. 16   Damaskinos Papandreou, “Pan-Orthodox Conferences,” in The Encyclopedia of Christianity, ed. Erwin Fahlbusch and Geoffrey W. Bromiley (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2005), vol. 4, 25–26. Given the general negative attitude of today’s Athonite monks toward the Council, it is rather ironic that this council was first prepared on Mount Athos. 17  The Church of Albania, which at that time could not exist legally within its territory, joined the WCC in 1994.

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recognize them as churches in the full sense of the term.18 Clearly, by this point referring to others as “churches” had become a contested issue and the WCC successfully offered a reply that all Orthodox accepted. This theological question, however, was also motivated by a political isolationist attitude toward the West as Communist regimes dictated, an attitude that would partially change by the 1960s. While the ecumenical question was an older theological theme, with the 1950 Toronto statement, it became a central one. Georges Florovsky was one of the influential figures who tailored this statement.19 Other Orthodox theologians of the first rank from that period, such as Nicholas Afanasiev, Paul Evdokimov, and Dumitru Staniloae, embraced this attitude of openness and illustrated Orthodox theology at its best, in dialogue with other churches. It is impossible to present here a full account of the ecclesiologies of these theologians. Their main principles can be summarized thusly: Florovsky pointed out that some heretics were received into the early Church without the re-administration of Baptism and their orders were recognized as valid, so those heretics were in a practical sense members of the Church. Their sacraments were validly performed “by virtue of the Holy Spirit.” Consequently, he distinguished between the canonical and charismatic boundaries of the Church. He identified the first boundary, the canonical boundary, with the unified early Church and its continuation today—the Orthodox Church, and the second one, the charismatic boundary, with the entirety of Christianity. Moreover, according to 18  The Council of Crete referred explicitly to this important event and its contemporary relevance in the document on ecumenism, par. 19: “The Orthodox Churches that are members of the WCC regard as an indispensable condition of their participation in the WCC the foundational article of its Constitution, in accordance with which its members may only be those who believe in the Lord Jesus Christ as God and Savior in accordance with the Scriptures, and who confess the Triune God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, in accordance with the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed. It is their deep conviction that the ecclesiological presuppositions of the 1950 Toronto Statement, On the Church, the Churches and the World Council of Churches, are of paramount importance for Orthodox participation in the Council. … No Church is obliged to change her ecclesiology on her accession to the Council… Moreover, from the fact of its inclusion in the Council, it does not ensue that each Church is obliged to regard the other Churches as Churches in the true and full sense of the term” (Toronto Statement, § 2). 19  Matthew Baker and Seraphim Danckaert, “Georges Florovsky,” in Orthodox Handbook on Ecumenism: Resources for Theological Education—“That They All May Be One” (John 17, 21), ed. Pantelis Kalaitzidis and Thomas FitzGerald (Oxford/Volos: Regnum Books International / Volos Academy Publications, 2013), 214.

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Florovsky, “the unity of the Church is based on a twofold bond—the ‘unity of the Spirit’ and the ‘union of peace’ (cf. Eph 4:3). In sects and divisions the ‘union of peace’ is broken and torn apart, but in the sacraments the ‘unity of the Spirit’ is not terminated. This is the unique paradox of sectarian existence.” Thus, because of the work of the Holy Spirit outside the canonical Orthodox Church, Florovsky did not hesitate to refer to Western Christians as “churches.”20 Afanassieff considered that assemblies that have a valid Eucharist are fully Church, as is the case with the Roman Catholic Church, which he regarded as a local church of the same Una Sancta as the Orthodox Church. Their dogmatic differences (including in regard to the papacy) simply caused a canonical separation, but did not create an essential schism.21 Staniloae, however, placed more emphasis on the current doctrinal divergences and considered that they create schisms. He regarded the Orthodox Church as the fullness of the Church because it has the fullness of truth, while other denominations belong to the Una Sancta in different degrees, depending on how close they are to the fullness of the Church as found in Orthodoxy. On this issue, Evdokimov added the memorable words, “We know where the Church is, but we cannot judge where the Church is not.”22 But the official attitudes of various Orthodox churches were not as open as those of their theologians. Internal Orthodox struggles—based primarily in secular politics, not theology—also complicated the relationship with the WCC after the New Delhi Assembly of 1961, when churches from communist countries joined the WCC. First, there was the suspicion that churches from the Eastern bloc became WCC members to further the Communist propaganda of their countries: they gave the impression of openness, peace, and understanding, while using the WCC meetings as opportunities to gather information about the West. Second, the Russian 20  Georges Florovsky, “The Boundaries of the Church,” in Ecumenism I: A Doctrinal Approach, Collected Works; vol. 13 (Belmont, MA: Nordland, 1989), 37–42. ———, “St. Cyprian and St. Augustine on Schism,” in Ecumenism II: A Historical Approach, Collected Works; vol. 14 (Belmont, MA: Nordland, 1989), 48–51. 21   Nicolas Afanassieff, “Una Sancta,” Irénikon 36, no. 4 (1963): 436–75. ———, “L’Eucharistie, principal lien entre les Catholiques et les Orthodoxes,” Irénikon 38, no. 3 (1965): 337–39. 22  See more in Radu Bordeianu, Dumitru Staniloae: An Ecumenical Ecclesiology (New York, London: T&T Clark/Continuum, 2011), 199–205.

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Orthodox Church justified its membership in the WCC not as a common initiative with the West (which would have been a political faux-pas), but by its decision to seek Christian unity virtually by canonical absorption within Orthodoxy. Third, the internal quarrels among Orthodox delegates increased because they rarely met outside the limited pre-Assembly meetings, due mainly to their inimical geopolitical situations. Fourth, the tension between Orthodox representatives and the WCC became more pronounced when Orthodox refused to sign common statements and the number of separate Orthodox statements increased; when the Orthodox did not share in eucharistic services with Protestant members; when Orthodox delegates became increasingly dissatisfied with the nature of the unity that the WCC was seeking and with its voting procedures. The number of autocephalous Orthodox churches was unlikely to increase, but the WCC continued to admit a great number of Protestant churches as members, thus limiting the impact of the Orthodox delegations who were easily outvoted. The tensions between Orthodoxy and the WCC ran high, affecting the Orthodox stance, not toward ecumenism as such, but toward ecumenical institutions, as reflected in the long process of preparation of the 2016 Crete Council. Thirty years prior to Crete, the 1986 Third Pan-Orthodox Pre-Conciliar Conference in Chambésy unanimously adopted the first set of draft documents.23 Among them, the statement on The Orthodox Church and the Ecumenical Movement affirmed that “an essential Orthodox witness and its specific theological contribution will be weakened, if we cannot find within the WCC the necessary conditions which will enable the Orthodox Churches to act on an equal footing with the other WCC members … concern is expressed about the ongoing enlargement of the WCC, resulting from the admission of different Christian

23  The Conference was unable to agree on the issue of the diaspora, which ended up being dropped from the Council’s agenda. These drafts underwent a major revision in 2015 and the updated texts were publicized for consultation with the faithful. In this sense, the Orthodox Theological Society of America gathered an impressive number of Orthodox scholars who responded to the pre-conciliar drafts, first online at https://publicorthodoxy. org/archives/otsa-special-project-on-the-great-and-holy-council/ and then in print in Toward the Holy and Great Council: Theological Reflections, ed. Archimandrite Nathanael Symeonides, “Faith Matters Series,” (New York: Greek Orthodox Archdiocese of America, 2016).

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communities as new members. … Consequently it is necessary to make new adjustments within the Council.”24

In 1997 and 1998 respectively, the Georgian and Bulgarian Patriarchates withdrew from the WCC. In response, at its eighth assembly in Harare (1998), the WCC created a Special Commission on Orthodox Participation in the WCC. The 2006 Final Report of the Commission deals with common prayer at WCC gatherings, decision-making by consensus (a significant Orthodox contribution!), and theological criteria for churches applying for membership in the WCC. Although opinions could differ regarding the real changes that this Report has brought about, the willingness of the WCC to accommodate Orthodox concerns is exemplary. This good will proved enormously influential on the Council of Crete’s positive attitude toward the WCC. The Council’s document on ecumenism affirms: 16. One of the principal bodies in the history of the Ecumenical Movement is the World Council of Churches (WCC). Certain Orthodox Churches were among the Council’s founding members and later, all the local Orthodox Churches became members. … The Orthodox Churches of Georgia and Bulgaria withdrew from the WCC, the former in 1997, and the latter in 1998. They have their own particular opinion on the work of the World Council of Churches and hence do not participate in its activities and those of other inter-Christian organizations. 17. The local Orthodox Churches that are members of the WCC participate fully and equally in the WCC, contributing with all means at their disposal to the advancement of peaceful co-existence and co-operation in the major socio-political challenges. The Orthodox Church readily accepted the WCC’s decision to respond to her request concerning the establishment of the Special Commission on Orthodox Participation in the World Council of Churches, which was mandated by the Inter-Orthodox Conference held in Thessaloniki in 1998. The established criteria of the Special Commission, proposed by the Orthodox and accepted by the WCC, led to the formation of the Permanent Committee on Consensus and Collaboration.

24  Par. 11, http://www.oikoumene.org/en/resources/documents/wcc-programmes/ ecumenical-movement-in-the-21st-century/member-churches/special-commission-onparticipation-of-orthodox-churches/first-plenary-meeting-documents-december-1999/ third-panorthodox-preconciliar-conference.

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As Peter De Mey observed, “whereas the 1986 text reflects the growing dissatisfaction of the Orthodox churches about certain aspects of the WCC policy, the 2015 draft and the approved conciliar statement express satisfaction about the work achieved by the Special Commission on Orthodox Participation in the WCC.”25 Moreover, it should offer our Lutheran partners an explanation for the Orthodox hesitation regarding ecumenism: it was not primarily due to bilateral dialogues or theological reasons, but to Orthodox participation in the WCC and geopolitical motivations. All of this, of course, played into the issue of who can be designated “church,” a theme that has evolved over time in significant ways. While the pre-conciliar drafts leading up to Crete consistently used the term “church” for Western Christians, a major shift too place with the 1976 first Pre-Conciliar Pan-Orthodox Conference in Chambésy, which produced a draft entitled, “The Relationship of the Orthodox Church to Other Christian Churches and Communities.” Noteworthy is the addition of the term, “communities” without a clear explanation as to how churches are different from communities. At the insistence of the conservative party, the 2016 Council would introduce a similar expression, namely “churches and confessions” (par. 6, 16). Why add “and communities” or “and confessions,” when previous documents referred only to “churches”? The explanation might be found in the major event that took place shortly before 1976, namely the Second Vatican Council, which introduced the distinction between “churches” and “ecclesial communities” (Unitatis Redintegratio 22). Let us briefly turn to that council. As a WCC observer at Vatican II, Nikos Nissiotis advocated on behalf of Protestant churches, supporting those Catholic bishops who considered that the Council should speak of other Christians from the perspective of their own charismatic activity, not from the point of view of what is lacking in them from a Catholic perspective. These same bishops proposed that the council should not refer to Protestants as “communities” and “groups” arising from the sixteenth-century crisis—as initially proposed— but as “ecclesial communities.”26 They also wanted to respect the 25  Peter De Mey, “Parallel Agendas of Vatican II and Crete I? A Close Look at ‘Relations of the Orthodox Church with the Rest of the Christian World,” forthcoming. 26  Nikos Nissiotis, “Ecclesiology and Ecumenism of the Second Session of the Vatican Council II,” Greek Orthodox Theological Review 10, no. 1 (1964): 20–26. ———, “Is the Vatican Council Really Ecumenical?,” The Ecumenical Review 16, no. 4 (1964): 367.

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self-­identification of some Christian families, such as the Anglicans, who refer to themselves as a “communion.” Moreover, Nissiotis emphasized the “ecclesial” aspect—meaning that the churches of the Reformation are, indeed, churches possessing an ecclesial character.27 While from the Catholic perspective, the expression “ecclesial communities” was intended as a theological step forward, from an Orthodox perspective, this same expression is a step backward. The distinction between “churches” and “communions” (or its equivalents) is a Catholic novelty that found its way into Orthodox vocabulary to manifest an exclusivist ecclesiology. Ironically, it is the ultraconservative party within Orthodoxy that designates the West as “communions” and not “churches,” unaware that this is actually a recent Catholic influence.

Politics and Nationalism One of the most unpleasant aspects of the Council of Crete was the undue influence of politics, nationalism, and worldly concerns on its work. It is an unavoidable subject because of its relevance to the Lutheran-Orthodox dialogue, but I will only address it briefly here. Under the guise of theological and procedural objections, four of the fourteen unanimously-recognized autocephalous Orthodox churches did not attend the Council of Crete. The following Patriarchates—Bulgaria, Antioch, Georgia and Russia—announced their non-participation between June 1 and June 13—just three days before the opening ceremony. Their absence was a significant blow to a Council that intended to be pan-­ Orthodox, but ended up without representatives of most Orthodox faithful, numerically speaking. This absence was not merely symbolic; it also influenced the Council’s works. Whenever the conciliar deliberations led to calls to change draft documents, participants were warned that if they made substantial changes to the documents, which all autocephalous churches had pre-approved, then the absent churches would not accept the conciliar decisions. The four absent churches held the Council hostage. In the aftermath of the Council, this proved to have been a futile effort, since the Bulgarian Patriarchate officially declared: “The first 27  See also: J.-M.-R.  Tillard, Church of Churches: The Ecclesiology of Communion, trans. R. C. De Peaux (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1992), 314–15. Francis A. Sullivan, The Church We Believe In: One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic (New York: Paulist Press, 1988), 30–32.

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important conclusion is that in comparison with their pre-conciliar versions, the documents voted upon and adopted by the Crete Council have undergone certain significant changes, insufficient for their pan-Orthodox acceptance.”28 Because of this, the Council was prevented from going far enough, and failed to satisfy the absent churches. Why were these churches absent in the first place? The Kyiv Patriarchate—which is not recognized by any other Orthodox church, but which claims a significant portion of the Orthodox faithful in Ukraine and is seeking Constantinople’s recognition—issued a statement that straightforwardly addressed the Council’s political ramifications: Regretfully, under the influence of external secular considerations, the Churches of first Bulgaria, then Antioch, Moscow, and Georgia, announced just days prior to the Council the impossibility of their participation … there is little question that the Moscow Patriarchate’s position was a main factor in their decisions. Despite official assurances of wishing to participate in the Council, the Moscow Patriarchate was not, and is not, interested in this. … Wishing to dominate World Orthodoxy, the Moscow Patriarchate fights against [Constantinople’s preeminent role in the Council and Orthodoxy in general]. The confrontation of the Moscow Patriarchate with Constantinople, its effort to dominate World Orthodoxy as the “Third Rome”, was the main cause for both the drawn-out preparations for the Council and the attempts to postpone it at the last moment. we deeply regret the response of the Church of Moscow, to employ ethnophyletism (the primacy of ethnical issues over church matters) and etatism (servility to state power) to divide and separate, to the harm of its own flock and the entire Orthodox Church.29

The references in this quote to “external secular considerations” or related expressions refer to both the worldly ambitions that hinder Orthodox unity and the tense diplomatic relations between Ukraine and Russia. Certainly, Russia’s annexation of Crimea and intrusion into Eastern Ukraine motivated in part the Ukrainian Parliament’s intervention. Ukrainian autocephaly would greatly reduce the influence that the Russian political regime exercises through the Russian Orthodox Patriarchate’s jurisdiction over Ukraine. Constantinople is currently considering this  November 2016 declaration analyzed earlier.  Press Center of the Kyiv Patriarchate, July 1.

28 29

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petition, which, if approved, would weaken the Russian Patriarchate and strengthen Constantinople’s authority. Thus, the above references to Moscow’s worldly interests are certainly not meant to be one-sided, as if the Ecumenical Patriarchate did not succumb to similar motivations. One respected theologian who denounced the political motivations of intra-Orthodox tensions is Paul Gavrilyuk, who wrote that the Patriarchate of Moscow, scarred by the Soviet totalitarian regime, appears to be repeating history by aligning itself with the propaganda machine of Vladimir Putin’s authoritarian state. Constantinople sees the council as the means of consolidating its authority; Moscow fears that its status as the largest Orthodox church numerically may be diminished by the conciliar process. … the long hand of Moscow was discernible behind [Antioch, Bulgaria, and Georgia’s decision to be absent from the Council].30

These are just two of the many examples of Orthodox institutions and theologians who spoke openly about the undue influence of worldly interests on the Council. In light of these considerations, the Council of Crete’s reminder that the 1872 Council of Constantinople condemned ethno-­ phyletism as an ecclesiological heresy31 resonates strongly. The Lutheran-Orthodox dialogue will have to seriously consider the role of politics in ecclesial matters, especially since both our churches have suffered over the centuries from the state’s hindering of Church unity. What applies to the Orthodox today has certainly applied to Lutherans in the past. It is important to remember that not only did Pope Leo X excommunicate Martin Luther, but Emperor Charles V also outlawed him. In this sense, in their 206-page report entitled, “The Reformation in Ecumenical Perspective” (August 9, 2016), the German Catholic Bishops’ Conference admitted the role of political figures in the exacerbation of divisions during the Reformation era. The Orthodox further complicated the already-strained relationships between Lutherans and Catholics. For example, in sixteenth-century Poland where the Catholic authorities mistreated religious minorities, Protestants and Orthodox became allies in their common struggle for justice. Rome was rather aggressive in that context, culminating with the 30  Paul L. Gavrilyuk, “Church Council meets despite absence of four patriarchates under the sway of Russia,” in America, July 7, 2016, https://www.americamagazine.org/issue/ historic-orthodox-council-meets-despite-absence-four-churches. 31  “Encyclical” I.3.

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1596 Union of Brest Litovsk, which included both religious and sociopolitical aspects. That same approach extended further East, toward Russia. Rome attempted to create an alliance with Poland and Russia against the Ottomans, but with the secondary motive of bringing these two Eastern powers under its own sphere of influence. In response, the Ecumenical Patriarch chose to solidify the role of the Russian Orthodox Church by raising its status to that of Patriarchate in 1589—a move also meant to counter Rome’s influence in the East, even though it meant the weakening of the anti-Ottoman alliance at a time when the Ecumenical Patriarchate was suffering greatly under Ottoman rule. The Ecumenical Patriarch’s gesture encouraged Protestants to continue their dialogue with Orthodoxy.32 Clearly political and ecclesial matters were closely intertwined and, unfortunately, the actions of the Orthodox world contributed to the further distancing between Lutherans and Catholics. In contrast to times past, today there are no notable instances of political interference in Catholic-Lutheran relations and the Orthodox do not act as arbiters of Western churches, so the time is ripe to set aside historical shortcomings and recognize their role in the exacerbation of our ecclesial differences. To do that, Lutherans and Orthodox need to overcome an important hurdle, namely the theological and political anti-Western attitudes among ultraconservative Orthodox, and the rising nationalistic trends in the Western world, so that politics, nationalism, and worldly concerns do not contribute to our division today.

Commitment to Ecumenism As shown earlier, throughout the conciliar preparatory process, the attitude toward various ecumenical institutions fluctuated. Commitment to ecumenism, however, remained consistent, as the decision to invite observers from other churches demonstrated practically.33 Relevant to our topic was the presence of the Rt. Rev. Donald McCoid, former Lutheran co-chair of the Lutheran-Orthodox Commission.34 Unfortunately,  See Travis, “Orthodox-Lutheran Relations,” 306–08.  “Decision of the Synaxis of the Primates of Orthodox Churches, Chambésy, 21–28 January, 2016,” par. 8, in Nathanael Symeonides, ed. Toward the Holy and Great Council: Discussions and Texts (New York: Greek Orthodox Archdiocese of America, 2016), 111–113. 34  Similarly, the Vatican appointed two observers to the Council: Cardinal Kurt Koch and Bishop Brian Farrell—president and secretary of the Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity, respectively. 32 33

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however, the observers were only allowed to attend the opening and closing sessions. They had too few opportunities to interact with the Orthodox bishops and influence the Council even indirectly. But if Crete 2016 was just the beginning (or rather, modern restoration) of PanOrthodox conciliarity, even a timid involvement of observers is a welcome improvement. Another practical proof of Orthodoxy’s commitment to ecumenism came shortly after the Council, in September 2016, when the Joint International Commission for Theological Dialogue between the Roman Catholic Church and the Orthodox Church met in Chieti, Italy. Three of the four Churches that were absent from Crete, namely Antioch, Georgia, and Russia, came to the meeting, despite having disagreed with Crete’s document on ecumenism. Their presence in Chieti both challenges the argument that ecumenism was the central reason for their absence from Crete35 and illustrates Orthodoxy’s ecumenical commitment. The Council’s commitment to dialogue is also reflected in the text of the document on ecumenism: 4. The Orthodox Church, which prays unceasingly “for the union of all,” has always cultivated dialogue with those estranged from her, those both far and near. In particular, she has played a leading role in the contemporary search for ways and means to restore the unity of those who believe in Christ, and she has participated in the Ecumenical Movement from its outset, and has contributed to its formation and further development. … Hence, Orthodox participation in the movement to restore unity with other Christians in the One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church is in no way foreign to the nature and history of the Orthodox Church, but rather represents a consistent expression of the apostolic faith and tradition in new historical circumstances. 5. The contemporary bilateral theological dialogues of the Orthodox Church and her participation in the Ecumenical Movement rest on this self-­ consciousness of Orthodoxy and her ecumenical spirit, with the aim of seeking the unity of all Christians on the basis of the truth of the faith and tradition of the ancient Church of the Seven Ecumenical Councils.

35  Nicolas Kazarian, The First Test for Orthodox Unity after the Holy and Great Council: The Chieti Document, https://publicorthodoxy.org/2016/10/18/the-chieti-document/. The Antiochian Patriarchate’s absence was motivated primarily by its lack of eucharistic communion with the Patriarchate of Jerusalem, and only marginally by its reservations toward the document on ecumenism.

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Noteworthy here is the positive use of the term “Ecumenical Movement,” despite ultraconservative pressures and past tensions. Furthermore, the recognition of different degrees of estrangement in the expression “far and near” reflects an inclusivist ecclesiology that regards all Christians as belonging to the Una Sancta to different degrees. The same document then unequivocally affirms that “all the local Most Holy Orthodox Churches participate actively today in the official theological dialogues, and the majority of these Churches also participate in various national, regional and international inter-Christian organizations, in spite of the deep crisis that has arisen in the Ecumenical Movement” (par. 7). The statement then takes a welcome practical turn, addressing the absence of some national churches from dialogues,36 which should not impede the continuation of the ecumenical process or the pan-Orthodox recognition of these dialogues: 9. The contemporary bilateral theological dialogues, announced by the Pan-­ Orthodox meetings, express the unanimous decision of all local most holy Orthodox Churches who are called to participate actively and continually in them, so that the unanimous witness of Orthodoxy to the glory of the Triune God may not be hindered. In the event that a certain local Church chooses not to assign a representative to a particular dialogue or one of its sessions, if this decision is not pan-Orthodox, the dialogue still continues.

“the dialogue still continues.” These are hopeful words for Orthodoxy in general and for the Lutheran-Orthodox dialogue in particular. Churches and theologians who are favorable to ecumenism need to move forward, continue along the journey toward unity, and not let ultraconservatives slow them down. Perhaps the Council of Crete has accomplished this crucial feat: it has demonstrated that the “traditionalist” elements within Orthodoxy will not be satisfied with any compromise and that seeking such compromises is unsatisfactory for all involved. It is unrealistic to think that ultraconservatives would agree with any statement by a pan-­ Orthodox Council or with ecumenical agreements. In the laudable effort to include them, the rest of Orthodoxy is missing the opportunity to respond to the pressing needs of the Church today and advance on the path toward unity. Leaving ultraconservatives behind is, indeed, a bold 36  For example, in 2007 the Russian Patriarchate withdrew its representatives from the Orthodox-Catholic dialogue in Ravenna, but subsequently retuned to the table.

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call. But living out an exclusivist ecclesiology in pastoral life results not merely in theologians composing lists of grievances with their Orthodox Church. More importantly, exclusivist attitudes create untenable pastoral situations, forcing the separation of our churches upon mixed marriages so that Christians find it impossible to commune together; these attitudes leave their clergy few means of ministry even to the sick and dying. They make us afraid to today’s challenges. Yet the Holy Spirit continues to work today. Moving forward is both an intra-Orthodox and an ecumenical necessity. The Lutheran-Orthodox dialogue will thus continue on an optimistic note, knowing that the hesitations of the Crete Council were mainly due to intra-Orthodox dynamics, negative experiences at the WCC that have now been addressed, and worldly concerns that overshadowed the ecclesiological concerns that are now front and center. The Council of Crete brought into the open these issues that previously had only been suspected. This is an important first step in solving the conflict. It will be a long journey to communion. Now with a conciliar mandate, “the dialogue still continues.”

CHAPTER 10

A Lutheran Reflection on Lived Ecumenism Samuel Wagner

As a life-long Lutheran, I have had the unusual job of representing Catholic positions related to ecumenical and interreligious dialogue for nearly 20 years. Though I remain deeply connected to the Lutheran tradition, my work for the Catholic Church has been a great privilege and a tremendous learning experience that continues to bear fruit. I was asked by my Georgetown colleagues, Gerard Mannion and Leo Lefebure, to present my reflections on this lived ecumenism, which I am happy to do. However, in order to provide a fuller picture of my lived ecumenical experience, it might be helpful to first provide some background. My father was a U.S.  Army officer. As was typical for many military households in the 1980s, my family spent several years stationed in Germany. We lived in Stuttgart. Though unknown to me at the time, I now look back at those years as the critical foundation of my Lutheran religious identity. Among other things, I had the unique opportunity to be confirmed in the city of Worms. Also, throughout my childhood I

S. Wagner (*) Georgetown University, Washington, DC, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 G. Mannion et al. (eds.), Ecumenical Perspectives Five Hundred Years After Luther’s Reformation, Pathways for Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-68360-3_10

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visited many of the famous Lutheran historical sites located in what was then West Germany. My first real exposure to the Catholic world came much later on when I was in graduate school. I attended the Catholic University of America, in Washington, DC, as part of a History of Religions consortium program in order to study the religions of India. It was then that I first experienced being an “outsider” in a predominately Catholic academic community. My advisor was William Cenkner, a Dominican priest who was an expert on Asian religions. Cenkner was also the first graduate of the History of Religions and Theology program at Fordham University, where he studied under Thomas Berry, the cultural historian and scholar of Asian religions later known for his work in ecology.  Studying with Professor Cenkner, as he preferred to be called, was my introduction to the Catholic world. In 1999, shortly after completing my master’s degree at Catholic University, I was hired to work in the Secretariat for Ecumenical and Interreligious Affairs at the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB). The Executive Director of the office at that time was the post-­ Vatican II American ecumenical leader, Fr. Jack Hotchkin. Fr. Hotchkin had an extraordinary staff. It was then that I met Dr. John Borelli (interreligious relations), Brother Jeffrey Gros, F.S.C. (Protestant relations), Rev. Ronald Roberson (Orthodox relations), Dr. Eugene Fisher (Jewish relations), and Dr. Ann K. Riggs, who would later move on to be Associate General Secretary of the National Council of Churches USA for Faith and Order. While my initial position was essentially to answer the phones, it was made clear to me upon being hired that the fact that I was not Catholic, but a Lutheran, was viewed by the staff as an asset to the ecumenical mission of the office. At the time, I had no idea that it would be the beginning a career of working in ecumenical and interreligious relations. Fast forward eighteen years, and I am now the director for Dialogue and Catholic Identity in the President’s Office at Georgetown University. In my present role, I continue to have the privilege of doing ecumenical and interreligious work alongside John Borelli. In full disclosure, it is fair to say that I am not a theologian (I was trained in the History of Religions). However, I have worked with, and alongside, theologians and church leaders planning dialogue meetings and others events for many years now. While my work has not primarily involved the sorting out of theological issues, I have found myself living in

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the midst of these issues with a bird’s eye view of watching these matters unfold. Simply being present, and working together with theologians and church leaders, has taught me a great deal of how ecumenism operates. So, what has been learned? At this point in time, I believe it is fair to say that what Lutherans and Catholics share is far greater than that which divides us. At least, that has been my experience. In my time working for the Catholic Church over the course of the past eighteen years, with post-­ Vatican II trained colleagues, many of whom are Jesuits, or Jesuit educated, in general I find very little of great substance that differs from current church teaching within the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America  (ELCA). Aside from different church structures, and different understandings of ministry, we do share a great deal. Here, I simply would point to our shared liturgical traditions, which are important living examples of a mutual understanding of church that is based on both Scripture and Tradition. Perhaps the greatest lesson I have learned is that dialogue which is life changing, whether ecumenical or interreligious, is rooted in friendship and trust. My understanding of the Catholic Church has been deeply affected by friendships that I have formed with colleagues and mentors over the years. While I would acknowledge that understanding the roots of theological differences is absolutely necessary, it is often friendship that opens the door to understanding. Through sharing mutual struggles and accomplishments, one who might have been previously perceived as “the other” begins to be seen in a new light, as a friend. Within the specific context of Lutheran-Catholic relations, I will give an early example of this experience of friendship. In my initial years of working at the US Conference of Catholic Bishops, I often found myself helping my colleague, and ecumenical giant, Brother Jeff Gros, with tech issues related to PowerPoint presentations. Over the course of time, I gradually found the courage to engage this expert in the topic of his presentations, many of them dealing with Lutheran-Catholic relations and the history of Lutheranism. It was at this time, around 2003, that a movie titled Luther had just been released into theaters in the United States. Going through Bro. Jeff’s PowerPoint, I came across slides detailing the history of Martin Luther and his dealings with the Catholic Church in his time. Since we had both recently seen the Luther film, it begged the question of what he thought of the movie and its depiction of the Pope and the Catholic Church. To begin on a humorous note, Bro. Jeff referred to the film as “Luther in Love,” saying that for a historical moment steeped in

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theological complexities, the film more or less glazed over most of the technical issues of the day. However, in regard to the film’s depiction of Pope Leo X (negative by all estimates), he said that it was “a kind depiction.” To hear this kind of self-criticism of one’s own tradition was eye-­ opening at the time. It led me to have a deep appreciation of his understanding of Lutheranism, but, perhaps even more importantly, the authenticity of his commitment to his own tradition, in spite of its flaws. I would point to those years with Bro. Jeff Gros as, in many ways, a starting point that led to a greater appreciation of my own Lutheran tradition. In fact, to this day I have often said that I may have learned more about being a Lutheran from him than from any Lutheran pastor. Another significant early insight was that the Catholic Church is a large tent religious tradition. Like any other group of people, there is not just one kind of Catholic. I had firsthand experience of the diversity of the church in November 2004, when the plenary assembly of the USCCB discussed a vote on whether or not the USCCB should join a new U.S.based ecumenical organization called Christian Churches Together. While most bishops were vocal about their support, a few were not. In fact, although the assembly ultimately voted in favor of the motion, at one point, a bishop stood up and said to the body of bishops in no uncertain terms, “Why do we need to join an ecumenical organization? WE are the Church.” In a church of over a billion members, it is not surprising that one might come across clergy, laity, and church leaders who view the Catholic Church in pre-Vatican II terms fifty years after the Decree on Ecumenism, or at least through a lens in which Vatican II has effected little change. At times, I have worked alongside those who come from this perspective. While navigating those dynamics can be a challenge for an outsider, in the long run I have found that exposure to the variety of expressions of Catholicism has been helpful for understanding the multi-layered and ongoing complexities involved at so many levels within the church. During my years at the USCCB, I had the unique experience of observing momentous church events from the perspective of the U.S.  Catholic hierarchy. Some highlights include: the signing of the Lutheran-Catholic Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification; the reaction among Catholic theologians to the CDF document Dominus Iesus; the election of Pope Benedict XVI (and later his Regensburg address and also the controversy over the Good Friday prayer); and the visit of

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Pope Benedict to the United States, for which my office planned and staffed both ecumenical and interreligious events. Upon being hired at Georgetown in 2012, my esteem for the Catholic Church deepened. In particular, a greater appreciation for the Second Vatican Council took root. While there are multiple factors involved, I would single out two. First, 2012 was the fiftieth anniversary of the opening of the council. John Borelli, several others, and myself planned a massive two-day conference titled “Vatican II After Fifty Years” around the theme of “Dialogue and Catholic Identity.” That conference, held in the waning years of Pope Benedict XVI, was a moment for post-Vatican II scholars and theologians to publicly reaffirm that the changes of Vatican II had been positive for the church. It was, for me, a reminder that in spite of what had by then become a conservative trend in the U.S. church, that of rolling back Vatican II, in fact the so-called “Spirit of Vatican II” and its openness to those outside the church was still alive and well. Second, it was also around this time that I began to work closely with Fr. Thomas Stransky, C.S.P., a Vatican II expert. Fr. Stransky, who was a staff member of the Secretariat for Promoting Christian Unity during the time of the council, offered his “Reflections of an Insider” at our Vatican II conference. These “Reflections,” I would soon learn, were actually part of a book project that Fr. Stransky and John Borelli had been working on for several years. Soon enough, I also became involved with this book project (still in progress) concerned with telling the inside story of the development of the Catholic Church’s interreligious mission statement, Nostra aetate. In the course of immersing myself in the narrative of Fr. Stransky’s experience at the council, I found that my level of respect for the event grew immensely. As a non-Catholic who was not yet living at the time of the council, I had long assumed that Vatican II, with the church opening up to the world, was simply a product of the times, the 1960s. Fr. Stransky opened my eyes to the difficulties and complexities experienced by those involved. During the preparatory period, and after the establishment of the Secretariat for Promoting Christian Unity in 1960, its staff, of which Fr. Stransky was a member, was charged by Pope John XXIII to explore the possibilities of ecumenical and interreligious engagement. They had a strong sense that they were doing the right thing, but they had no idea if anything would ever come of it. This uncertainty, and yet willingness, commitment, and courage of the SPCU staff to submit to the will of the Spirit was profound. Furthermore, of course, they were not the only ones

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embarking on this new venture. Other Christians from a variety of traditions were also involved and were observers at the council. In fact, in Stransky’s telling of the ecumenical story, often the other “insiders” at Vatican II were, notably, the partners in dialogue from other churches, as opposed to some of the Catholic leaders and representatives at the council who were not comfortable with the idea of promoting these new forms of relationships outside of the Church. As I have gained a better understanding of Vatican II both through Stransky’s writing and through personal conversations with him, one important point has become very clear to me. Although ecumenical endeavors had started long before Vatican II, it was when the Catholic Church, like a keystone, joined the ecumenical movement that the process finally began to move forward in a meaningful way. As we now reflect on the 500th anniversary of the Reformation, the importance of that turning point, even today, after 50 years of dialogue, cannot be minimized. Other projects that I have worked on at Georgetown have provided further insights. One, in particular, was a conference titled “Trent and Its Impact.” At first glance, it might have seemed odd to have a Lutheran involved with organizing a conference commemorating the 450th anniversary of the closing of a council which is understood (by Protestants, at least) as the official Catholic response to and condemnation of Luther and the Reformation. Preconceived notions aside, the conference was actually a tremendous ecumenical experience. Working closely with John Borelli and Fr. John O’Malley, S.J., renowned Jesuit historian and a Georgetown colleague, the organizers took the approach of examining the Council of Trent together as Catholics and Protestants. My own experience was reflected in comments that I later heard from other Lutheran attendees at the conference. There was a sense that this invitation to look back at Trent together, with its difficulties and its gifts, was both a deeply needed and meaningful form of ecumenical hospitality, and  an occasion  for reconcillation. Perhaps most significant for my work has been what I have learned from the Catholic approach to interreligious dialogue. I was once told by a Protestant theologian that in terms of interreligious dialogue (and other areas of church and theology in which the parameters are still being defined), the primary difference between Catholics and Protestants is that Catholics first work out their theology, then move forward. Protestants, however, seem to be impatient with that strategy, so tend to prefer engagement in a new endeavor first, then work out the theology later. Perhaps

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each approach has its merits, but I have certainly experienced the value of the Catholic approach. With an interreligious mission statement like Nostra aetate, along with an established global church presence and network (generally guided by the Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue), and theologians throughout the globe questioning the meaning of the presence of other religions, it’s no surprise that the Catholic Church is a step ahead in interreligious dialogue. Over the years, I have also learned the value of doing interreligious work ecumenically. I have had the privilege of being involved in two dialogues which take this approach. The first is the Vaishnava (Hindu)— Christian dialogue, which has been taking place in the Washington, D.C. area annually for the past twenty years. The other is the Building Bridges Seminar, an annual week-long conference which convenes Christian and Muslim scholars from across the globe. (Building Bridges was initiated in 2002 by the Archbishop of Canterbury and is now stewarded by Georgetown  University.) In both of these dialogues, the Vaishnava-Christian Dialogue and Building Bridges, the richness of the discussion has been greatly enhanced as a result of the broad spectrum of Christian traditions represented at the dialogue table. My sense is that doing this work ecumenically has been helpful for both the Hindu and Muslim dialogue partners in gaining a more comprehensive understanding of Christian theology and practice. Another common pattern that I have experienced with both the Vaishnava-Christian dialogue and the Building Bridges Seminar is that, over the years, a dialogue of friendship begins to emerge. In the process of working toward mutual respect and better understanding, and time spent with one another, especially over meals, real friendships are created. In my observation, these friendships (both the ecumenical friendships among fellow Christians and the interreligious friendships) are often the critical foundation for moving a dialogue forward. Dialogue operates best within an environment of trust, when individuals are prepared to open themselves up to the religious other, and even willing to be self-critical of one’s own religious tradition. Openness to a genuine theological exchange, particularly around more challenging issues, is difficult to achieve unless it is done within an atmosphere of friendship and trust. Lastly, I should briefly mention that the election of Pope Francis has been very positive and fortuitous for Lutheran-Catholic relations. In commemorating the 500th anniversary of the Reformation and celebrating fifty years of extraordinary ecumenism between Lutherans and Catholics,

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it is particularly hopeful that the current pope seems to be uniquely encouraging progress, and not only in this ecumenical dialogue, but in others as well. Also, the reaction to and admiration for Pope Francis among American Lutherans, from the leadership down to the congregational level in the ELCA, is unprecedented, especially in light of previous Lutheran assessments of reigning popes. It should also be said that Pope Francis’ approach to ecumenism is unusual as well. He has an impatience for waiting for theological progress. He encourages action to be done now, as we witnessed when he visited Lund in October 2016. Besides, who would have thought 500 years ago that the person leading reform in the twenty-first-century Catholic Church would be the pope himself, rather than a simple German monk? This really is an exciting time for ecumenism. In conclusion, what have I learned that I would not have otherwise by way of being a Lutheran working inside the Catholic Church? Three main points: First, Catholicism is a very dynamic and large-tent church. While there is great diversity, I have experienced tremendous ecumenical hospitality over the years both through working for the U.S. Catholic bishops, and now at Georgetown University. Second, the Catholic Church paved the way and set the standard for doing interreligious dialogue. The Vatican II document, Nostra aetate, remains fresh and relevant today, and continues to set an example for all Christians. Third, doing interreligious dialogue ecumenically, when it is possible and makes sense, is good for interreligious partners to gain a broader understanding of Christianity. It also, interestingly, imposes a kind of ecumenism of necessity for the Christian participants, which can bear unexpected fruit. Moreover, in these past twenty years I have been in the unique position to see a shift in the way in which ecumenical and interreligious work is being done. For the first fifty years of post-Vatican II ecumenical and interreligious dialogue, these initiatives have been done from centralized, nationalized church institutions (like the U.S. bishops’ conference). What we are seeing now is a move toward this work being done at local institutions, like Georgetown University (as with the Building Bridges Seminar)

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and also organizations like the Ecclesiological Investigations International Research Network. Perhaps, though, the most important lesson that I have learned through my ecumenical experiences is that reconciliation through friendship is the key to resolving centuries-long divisions. The point is this: the deepest and longest lasting learning occurs at the level of friendship. Friendship builds trust.  In order to promote reconciliation in the world, we must get to know one another to better understand our differences. Only then can we recognize that, in fact, what we have in common is greater than that which divides us.

CHAPTER 11

Spreading the Word through the Image: Luther, Cranach, and the Reformation Gesa E. Thiessen

Introduction The decisive changes that affected the universal church and theology during the sixteenth century included the second great occurrence of iconoclasm in Christian history. However, while each of the major Reformers commented on this subject, their views were far from univocal. Even just a brief glance at older as well as contemporary Lutheran and Calvinist church buildings provides an immediate idea of the differing views adopted by Luther on the one hand, and Zwingli and Calvin on the other. Indeed, to this day, a visit to places of worship of the Catholic, Lutheran, Anglican, and Reformed traditions provides pointers to the central tenets of their respective theologies of the image and the liturgical priorities of each denomination. In places where the Lutheran Church was to establish itself as the major denomination, that is, in the north and some other parts of Germany and in Scandinavia, iconoclasm had little or no impact, apart from the removal

G. E. Thiessen (*) Trinity College Dublin, The University of Dublin, Dublin, Ireland © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 G. Mannion et al. (eds.), Ecumenical Perspectives Five Hundred Years After Luther’s Reformation, Pathways for Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-68360-3_11

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of multiple side altars in the alcoves of larger churches. Lutherans continued to worship in pre-Reformation churches with some alterations of the interiors. Thus many beautiful pieces of medieval art and architecture survived. Paintings and sculpture were and still are liberally displayed, frequently including an imposing crucifix in the sanctuary, a clear reference to Luther’s concern with the theologia crucis. Luther’s recommendation that priests were to stand behind the altar facing the congregation was generally adopted. Yet many older churches contain altars and high altars toward the back of the sanctuary and are still in use today. The Augsburg Confession Article XXI says: “Our churches teach that the history of saints may be set before us so that we may follow the example of their faith and good works, according to our calling.” Lutheran churches therefore include images and sculptures not only of Christ but also of biblical and occasionally even of extra-biblical saints, as well as stained glass windows, ornate interior reliefs and architecture, beautifully carved or otherwise embellished high altar pieces, liberal use of candles on the altar and elsewhere, and a special emphasis on the prominence of pulpits, which can also be highly ornate in older churches with didactic depictions of central biblical stories. Today parishes with pastors interested in culture and the arts at times  include exhibitions of contemporary art and crafts in their parish churches and community centres. In older churches, numerous images and altarpieces of Mary are present. Compared to a Roman Catholic church interior, usually the only striking difference is the absence of the tabernacle, sanctuary lamp, the Stations of the Cross and a small holy water font at the church portal. Yet, in a few Lutheran churches, tabernacles and sanctuary lamps have been kept or re-introduced and the adoration of the sacrament continued. Luther wrote a treatise, “The Adoration of the Sacrament,” in 1523 in which he defended eucharistic adoration, an aspect of devotion which in most Lutheran Churches was not kept after Luther’s death due to the influence of Melanchthon, who did not favour it. Regarding images and the Eucharist, a similar scenario is evident in Anglican churches, even if, of course, there, too, are significant differences between high and low church interiors. In low Anglican churches, due to the Calvinist influences, sculptures and images are less prevalent than in Lutheran or Roman Catholic places of worship. Reformed Calvinist and Methodist churches are generally quite different. These often strike one as rather bare and sometimes lacking in aesthetic expression. They contain only a small altar or none but usually

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have a prominent pulpit as everything centres on the preached word. A baptismal font is present, while pictures and statues are largely absent, candles few or none, and crucifixes or crosses are also basically absent. While the buildings, especially older ones, may convey an atmosphere of austere grandeur, the stark, as one might say, “puritan” interiors usually have little aesthetic appeal. However, it must be said that at times the austerity can convey its own sense of a calm aesthetic free of clutter and distraction. This is, of course, a very brief and therefore generalised account within the scope of this chapter. That there have been notable exceptions and developments, especially in the past fifty years, whether in Lutheran, post-­ Vatican II Roman Catholic, Anglican, or Reformed churches, shall not be disputed or denied. The intention is merely to create something of a brief visual introduction to the various kinds of liturgical interiors in the respective traditions before we will now go on to focus on Luther and Cranach.

Luther on the Role of Images The Reformation concerns included, among other far more pressing issues, the role of images, relics, and saints in the church. Given that the veneration of these was so much part of church life in the Middle Ages—at times in an exaggerated and even idolatrous fashion—Luther and other reformers saw the need to tackle this issue. If one reads and compares the Reformers in this context, one is immediately struck by the noticeably balanced approach Luther adopted. While he was aware of the danger of images and cautioned against their use, he valued their didactic and evangelical role in spreading the biblical message as well as his theological-­ reformatory aims, and he acknowledged their importance in remembering the Trinity and the saints. As with so many occasions in his life, Luther did not set out to write a systematic treatise on the theology of the image but rather events propelled him to take a stance. In late 1521 he secretly returned to Wittenberg from the Wartburg due to the turmoil and iconoclasm, which had broken out under his former teacher and fellow reformer Andreas von Bodenstein Karlstadt and his followers. We find Luther’s most important comments on images and relics in two of his fulminant Invocavit sermons, which he preached from 9 to 16 March 1522 to restore order in Wittenberg as well as in a piece entitled Against the Heavenly Prophets in the Matter of Images and Sacraments

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(1525), which was an attack on Karlstadt, who had rushed into implementing radical liturgical reforms in Luther’s absence. Luther’s all-consuming issue was, of course, justification by grace through faith as well as the abuse of indulgences. However, these issues and the possession of relics and use of images were related. The buying and selling of relics was a widespread custom at the time. Luther’s protector, Frederick the Wise, for example, owned over 19,000 relics. This business was similar to the whole question of indulgences. To own such relics or to donate images to churches came into the realm of good works; they were thus considered a means of accumulating grace earning salvation. For Luther, fundamentally, images were adiaphora. They were a minor issue. He considered it a matter of Christian liberty whether to have images and crucifixes or not. In his own words, images are a “small matter,” they “are neither good nor bad,” they are “unnecessary and we are free to have them or not, although it would be much better if we did not have them at all.” “If I were asked, I should have to admit that images do not anger me [as such]. If there were only one human being on earth who used images rightly, the devil would immediately urge against me: Why, oh why do you condemn that which may be used rightly? He would then have achieved his triumph and I would have to concede it.”1 Luther’s concern was centrally the freedom of the Christian justified before God by faith, and this he applied to most spheres of life. For example, as with images, Luther would point out that to marry or to remain in the monastery was a matter of liberty. It is not the presence of religious images in churches that Luther attacks, but the reasons as to why they are installed. He points out that among his opponents the worst misuse regarding images is that they believe that thereby they are doing good works, serving God. This connects with his overall concern that the Christian, as Paul had emphasised, is saved through grace. Luther, in his sermons in March 1522, develops his argument as to why images should be allowed, and he does so in relation to his opponents who, as he concedes, have reasons to oppose the use of images. He asserts that images may be of considerable benefit in preaching and teaching the Good News. He notes:

1  Helga Robinson-Hammerstein, Faith, Force and Freedom, Translation of the Fourth Invocavit Sermon & Introduction, A Navicula Publication (Dublin: Trinity College, School of History, 2001).

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It is true that they are dangerous, and I wish there were none of them on the altars. But we cannot prove it right to mutilate and burn them instead of tolerating them…. We must permit the images to remain, but preach vigorously against the wrong use of them.2 Thus, images and crucifixes should be allowed as long as they are not worshipped but used “for memorial and witness.” Works of art, Luther comments, can also be used for pleasure and decoration. Karlstadt and the radical reformers, on the other hand, wanted to have statues and images destroyed, abandon the use of music in worship, and hold masses in civil clothes. In 1525, three years after the iconoclastic events in Wittenberg, Luther writes a refutation of Karlstadt in a more systematic discussion of images. He asserts that he does not want to defend religious images, but that no one is obligated to destroy them, as long as one puts one’s trust not in them but in God alone. The fundamental issue here for Luther is the distinction between external material images in churches and the internal idols worshipped in the human heart. If images of Christ, Mary, and the saints are used in proper fashion for helping us remember and give witness to these, they have a positive role. Further, as a means of proclaiming the Gospel and aims of reform, images are welcome and even powerful. Luther points out that Karlstadt, in his obsession with material images, failed to attack and reject the far more dangerous and real idols, the idols of the heart. This is one of the most important arguments in his whole discussion of images and it remains pertinent to this day: the danger not of material religious images but the ever-present proneness to idolatry within the human being. The temptation of mammon and greed, the misuse of power—these are the truly dangerous idols we need to destroy. Material religious images are not the real issue, but rather the false images and idols which occupy the human self. Luther concludes with a resounding endorsement of images: Yes, would to God that I could persuade the rich and the mighty that they would permit the whole Bible to be painted on houses, on the inside and outside, so that all can see it. That would be a Christian work. Of this I am certain, that God desires to have his works heard and read, especially the 2  Martin Luther, “Receiving both Kinds in the Sacrament” (Invocavit Sermon 1522), Luther’s Works, vol. 38, Word and Sacrament II, trans. and ed. Abdel Ross Wentz, general ed. Helmut T.  Lehmann (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1959), in Gesa Thiessen, ed., Theological Aesthetics—A Reader (London: SCM Press/Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2004), 130f.

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passion of our Lord. But it is impossible for me to hear and bear it in mind without forming mental images of it in my heart. For whether I will or not, when I hear of Christ, an image of a man hanging on a cross takes form in my heart, just as the reflection of my face naturally appears in the water when I look into it. If it is not a sin but good to have the image of Christ in my heart, why should it be a sin to have it in my eyes? This is especially true since the heart is more important than the eyes, and should be less stained by sin because it is the true abode and dwelling place of God.3

It is noteworthy that Luther here recognised that the sense of seeing, just like the sense of hearing, is intrinsic to the human being. The visual shall not be denied because it is simply part of the human being to have and create mental and material images. We can have images and even need them, but we must not worship them. All that the believer ought to be aware of is to make use of such images in a healthy fashion, conducive to educating people in the faith and aiding them in remembering Christ, the saints, and the Gospel stories.

Lucas Cranach: Painting the Reformation Luther’s and Melanchthon’s aims of reform were significantly supported by the painter Lucas Cranach the Elder (1472–1553) and later by his son Lucas (1515–1586).4 A leading German Renaissance painter and printmaker in woodcut and engraving, Cranach became court painter to Frederick the Wise, Elector of Saxony, in 1504 and became the painter of the Reformation. Lucas Cranach the Younger, somewhat in his father’s shadow, should in fact also be remembered as such. Cranach the Elder developed a close friendship with Luther and his family. He became wealthy, had a pharmacy and a large workshop in Wittenberg, and, as a shrewd business man, despite his firm support for the Reformers, continued with commissions for the Catholic Church, including commissions for 3  Martin Luther, “Against the Heavenly Prophets in the Matter of Images and Sacraments” (1525), Luther’s Works, vol. 40, Church and Ministry II, trans. Bernhard Erling and Conrad Bergendoff, general ed. Helmut T.  Lehmann (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1958), in Thiessen, ed., Theological Aesthetics—A Reader, 132–34. 4  The year 2015 in the Luther Dekade leading up to the feast of the 500th anniversary in 2017 was dedicated to the theme “Bild und Bibel” (“Image and Bible”). The year 2015 was chosen for this theme as it was the 500th anniversary of the birth of Lucas Cranach the Younger.

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some of Luther’s fiercest opponents. Cranach painted portraits of the Reformers and large works which contained the central theological teachings of Luther et al. It is well known that the Reformation could succeed largely due to the recent invention of the printing press in 1450 and thus the new possibilities of spreading ideas fast. As Eamon Duffy points out, Cranach’s mass-­ produced images made Luther’s the most familiar face in the sixteenth century.5 With Luther and Melanchthon, Cranach produced a number of highly polemical prints in the comic book-like pamphlets current at the time, satirising the pope, clerics, and corrupt church practices. Such pamphlets, forerunners of today’s newspapers, were used by both Reformers and Catholics to spread crude propaganda against each other. However, those produced on the Reformers’ side proved far more effective than those of their opponents. Propaganda from the Reformers had four main themes—anti-popery, individual salvation, social morality, and scriptural stories, whereas Catholics focused on anti-Luther agendas, morality, veneration of the saints, and scriptural stories.6 Having read St Paul, Luther’s central insight and concern was about the human being justified by faith through grace. Luther thereby drew attention to the distinction between law and gospel/grace (Gesetz und Gnade), and this distinction became the fundamental hermeneutical principle in Lutheran biblical exegesis of scripture. Article 4 of the Apology of the Augsburg Confession (1531) reads: “All Scripture ought to be distributed into these two principal topics, the Law and the promises. For in some places it presents the Law, and in others the promise concerning Christ.” Luther did not understand the law as belonging solely to the Old Testament and the Gospel to the New Testament. Rather, those who believe in Christ will continue having to obey the law; they must live according to God’s ethical will. Ultimately, however, they live in the promise of salvation in and through Christ’s abundant gracious love. Thus the law prepares the way to the gospel, and faith in the gospel of Christ grants justification and salvation (see Illustration 11.3).

5  Eamon Duffy, “Spiritual Surrender,” The Guardian, 1.3.2008. Accessed: 12.12.2017. http://www.theguardian.com/books/2008/mar/01/art.art. 6  John Hartmann, “The Use of Propaganda in the Reformation & Counter-Reformation.” Virginia Commonwealth University, Accessed 12.12.2017. http://www.people.vcu. edu/~jahartmann/writings.html.

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Illustration 11.1  Lucas Cranach the Elder, Law and Gospel, Herzogliches Museum, Schloss Friedenstein Gotha, 1529, accessed at https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=49211482 {PD-art-US}

Cranach was to image this fundamental idea in pictorial form in several works titled “The Law and Grace.” The image of 1529 (Gotha Schlossmuseum), which is the most famous example of these works, served as the prototype for later images of the same theme.7 The painting is divided by a tree with a crown, which on the left bears no leaves, while on the right leaves are clearly visible. On the left side, the Old Testament motifs essentially are to convey that the law alone will not grant salvation and get us into heaven. In the distance we see Christ in Judgement in heaven, while Adam and Eve are placed underneath with the snake and the tree of knowledge indicating the fall from grace. To their right is the story 7  For an analysis how law and gospel found expression not only in paintings but in richly adorned weaponry, medals and drinking vessels among Lutheran political leaders in the sixteenth century, see Jutta Charlotte von Bloh, Yvonne Fritz, Dirk Syndram, Das Wort im Bild, Biblische Darstellungen an Prunkwaffen und Kunstgegenständen der Kurfürsten von Sachsen zur Reformationszeit (Staatliche Kunstsammlungen Dresden/Sandstein Verlag, 2014).

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of Moses and the brazen serpent from the Book of Numbers (21:4–9). In the foreground, a skeleton and a demon, reminiscent of the monstrous monk calf used by Luther in his anti-Catholic polemic pamphlets, pursue a desperate man into eternal damnation. Moses on the bottom right looks on these events. The white tablets with God’s law stand out against the orange and black robes. These scenes show that the law will inescapably lead to hell if mistaken as a path to salvation, most clearly demonstrated in the damned naked man.8 On the right side of the image, in contrast, the central message is that it is faith in Christ the crucified God which will lead to salvation. The naked man here is not damned but stands before, prays to, adores, and looks onto Christ on the Cross, aided by John the Baptist pointing towards Jesus. St John writes in his Gospel: “Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so the Son of Man must be lifted up” (Jn 3: 14). The naked man on the right side of the image does not come with a score of his good deeds, and he does not vainly follow the law. He is stripped bare and knows that salvation is dependent on faith in Christ’s grace. The risen Christ is standing in a large, bright sun-like halo above the empty tomb, triumphant with the flag of the resurrection, the saviour of those who believe in him. The whole image conveys that God is both judge and saviour and that the law alone will not save but should lead us to faith in Christ and his Gospel, to the promise of forgiveness of sin and eternal life (see Illustration 11.2). Another image, begun by Cranach the Elder shortly before his death and completed much later by Cranach the Younger in 1555, is located in the Peter and Paul Church in Weimar. It is a variation of the same theme on law and gospel. Here Jesus is centre-stage and the Old Testament scenes have moved into the background. The figure of Christ is repeated on the left; he is conquering death and an evil demon, similar in appearance to the work from 1529. In the background, we see the Expulsion from the Garden of Eden reminding us of the reality of sin and our need for salvation. Moses is again shown with the tablets as well as the tale of Moses and the Brazen Serpent and the New Testament story of the Annunciation to the Shepherds are depicted as examples of God’s grace. John the Baptist to the right of Christ points one of his fingers at Christ and with the index and middle finger of his left hand to the Agnus Dei, the 8  Bonnie Noble, “Cranach’s The Law and Gospel,” Khan Academy, essay accessed at https://www.khanacademy.org/humanities/ap-art-history/early-europe-and-colonialamericas/reformation-counter-reformation/a/cranach-law-and-gospel-law-and-grace.

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Illustration 11.2  Lucas Cranach the Elder, finished by Lucas Cranach the Younger, Christus am Kreuz, from Weimar Altarpiece, Peter and Paul Church, Weimar, 1555, accessed at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St._Peter_und_Paul,_ Weimar#/media/File:Weimaraltar-­1555-­B.jpg {PD-art-US}

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Lamb of God. Next to him stands Lucas Cranach. Striking is the stream of blood issuing from Christ’s side and flowing directly on Cranach’s forehead, implying the direct access of the believer to the triune God with no need of a priest as intercessor. Luther, stately and confident, on the far right, points to passages (1 Jn 1:7; Hebr 4:16 and Jn 3:14–15) from his German Bible concerning the redemptive blood of Christ freeing all believers from sin. In this much later work there is a heightened focus on the gospel, that is, on Christ, and a pronounced didactic and ecclesiastical emphasis, pointing to Luther and his followers as those who have the correct understanding of the gospel, the ones who in the tradition of the biblical saints and the early church are spreading the good news of Christ. This concentration on the figure of Christ was a new development in Reformation and post-Reformation art, and is visible to this day in Lutheran churches through the presence of crucifixes in places of worship. It is also interesting to note that Luther and Cranach the Elder had died at this stage and are here, and also in other images, put into the picture in strikingly similar fashion to depictions of saints or donors in Renaissance art.9 Yet, the emphasis is also different—Luther and his followers are shown as defenders and teachers of the true faith in a merciful Christ, while the donors in Renaissance art had their images included like plaques presenting themselves as pious believers, doing a good work by financing the production of ecclesiastical art.10 In 1521, Cranach produced the Passional Christi und Antichristi, the most devastating of polemic pamphlets in the sixteenth century, with thirteen pairs of woodcuts illustrating texts by Philip Melanchthon. Blatant and easily understood by all, this little picture book compares the passion of Christ with that of the pope, the anti-Christ. In visual antitheses, these woodcuts powerfully juxtapose the truth of Christ’s life and passion with the pope’s wholly corrupt practices. In one image Christ is driving the money changers out of the temple (Mt. 21).11 The image opposite shows the pope enthroned like God in a temple who sells to a subservient people indulgences and dispensations, 9  Philip Stoellger, “Emanzipation des Bildes, Cranach’s Blutstrahl der Gnade als wirksames Zeichen,” Das Magazin zum Themenjahr 2015, Reformation—Bild und Bibel, Evangelische Kirche Deutschland (EKD), 2015. 10  The Brera sacra conversazione altarpiece by Piero della Francesca, commissioned by Federico III da Montefeltro, Duke of Urbino, and portraying him in his armour kneeling at the feet of the Madonna, is a striking example. 11  Lucas Cranach the Elder, Passional Christi und Antichristi, British Library.

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and to the clergy bishoprics and other church offices. Another set of images juxtaposes Jesus in simple clothes and washing the feet of his disciples with a depiction of political leaders and people arriving to kiss the pope’s feet. A further pair of pages shows on the left Christ taking up his cross to die for the salvation of humankind and implying that those who follow Christ must, like Jesus, be ready to take up their Cross (Mt. 16), while, on the right, the pope is carried around by the clergy in the pomp and splendour of a divine-like emperor.12 Luther’s Catholic critics were not slow to respond. A woodcut on the cover of a pamphlet in 1529 by Johann Cochlaeus, a leading German humanist and adversary of Luther, shows Luther as the seven-headed beast mentioned in the Book of Revelation.13 Luther is shown as a scholar, monk, priest, turban-wearing Turk, a fanatic goaded by hornets, a Church Visitor correcting abuses, and a wild-man, identified as Barabas. This monster is the Anti-Christ, the arch-enemy of the true church and the herald of the terrible trials before Christ’s second coming. A year later the Lutheran side hit back with the seven-headed pope animal, the “regnum diaboli” of the pope, the anti-Christ.14 Monstrous births were seen as bad omens in the Middles Ages. Luther, still a medieval man, firmly believed that unusual natural phenomena, such as comets and “monstrous prodigies,” were God-willed and signs of impending disaster. The “most notorious” and best known monstrous births in his time were two creatures that came to be known as the “papal ass” (see Illustration 11.3) “washed up on the banks of the Tiber in Rome in 1496,” and the “monk calf,”15 born in Freiberg, Germany, in 1522.16 Luther and Melanchthon wrote a polemical pamphlet in 1523 titled “The Meaning of Two Gruesome Figures, the Papal Ass of Rome and the Monk Calf of Freiberg found in Meissen” (Deuttung der czwo grewlichen Figuren, Bapstesels czu Rom und Munchkalbs zu Friberg ijnn Meijszen funden). It 12   Lucas Cranach the Elder, Passional Christi und Antichristi, Taylor Institution Library, London. 13  Hans Brosamer, The Seven-Headed Luther, German History in Documents and Images. 14  Unknown German Artist, The Seven-Headed Papacy, German History in Documents and Images. 15  Lucas Cranach the Elder, Monk Calf, Reformation Monster, Staatliche Kunstsammlungen Dresden, Kupferstich Kabinett. 16  Jennifer Spinks, Monstrous Births and Visual Culture in Sixteenth-Century Germany (London: Pickering & Chatto, 2009), 59. For my discussion on these two images, I rely on Spinks’s analysis, 59–79.

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Illustration 11.3   Lucas Cranach the Elder, Der Babstesel zu Rom (The Papal Ass in  Rome), 1523,  New York Public Library Digital Collections, accessed at http://digitalcollections.nypl.org/items/74a8af59-­2 a7a-­c 882-­e 040-­ e00a180604ac {PD-art-US}

contained two woodcuts produced by Cranach. The papal ass was based on an engraving by Wenzel von Olmutz. Representing the pope and a monk, these two images were used to show that the Day of Judgement was near. They were regarded as illustrations of the degeneracy of the

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church. Jennifer Spinks has argued that, while monstrous births before Luther and Melanchthon could be interpreted both in negative and in positive terms, with this publication there was a decisive shift whereby such images not only became more polemical and anti-papal but also took on a notably “apocalyptic” and “eschatological” aspect, as is also evident in the seven-headed anti-Christ in reference to the Book of Revelation. The papal ass is a female figure with an ass’s head; women’s breasts, belly, and vagina; an elephant’s foot in the place of the right hand; fish scales on the neck, arms, and legs; a face of an old man protruding from its back and a dragon’s head on its tale; and one foot of an ox, the other of the legendary figure of the griffin. Melanchthon noted that God considered the donkey a lowly figure, hence the papal ass’s head and the female breast and belly represented “the body of the papacy: that is Cardinals, bishops, clerics, monks… their life is simply guzzling food, boozing, unchaste lechery, and leading “the good life” on earth.”17 The right foot represents “the servants of the church: priests, papal teachers, and in particular, scholastic theologians”; one hand, “like an elephant’s foot,” represents the forceful spiritual regime of the pope, which “tramples and grinds down” while the human hand signifies “the pope’s worldly regiment of secular rulers” who support the pope.18 Luther’s interpretation of the monk calf is no less damning. He alludes to the golden calf, the false idol. He says that God has dressed this calf in monks’ habits and so, in Luther’s words, the calf shows that “monks and nuns are nothing other than false liars who externally lead a spiritual life.” Individual body parts are symbolic of their failings: the creature’s blindness shows the monk’s and nun’s ignorance of the true nature of God; the donkey’s ears refer to the “intolerable tyranny” of the forced practice of confession. The tight cowl conveys the monk’s stubbornness, and the mouth, half human jaw and half bestial, indicates that instead of preaching God’s word they preach for their own good. The papal ass thus represented the pope and the monk calf his followers, two powerfully repulsive figures which aided the Reformers’ polemics. However, the Pope and abuses in the Catholic Church were not the only subjects of Lutheran polemics. Theological differences between Lutherans and Calvinists brought about growing conflict in the latter part of the sixteenth century. In 1591, Zacharias “Rivander” Bachmann, a  Melanchthon as cited in Spinks, 68.  Ibid., 68.

17 18

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Lutheran pastor, wrote Lupus excoriatus (the wolf stripped of its skin). The book’s title is clear evidence of what orthodox Lutherans thought of Zwinglians and Calvinists. The book contains an image titled the “Calvinist wolves of discord,” The wolves are dressed in monks’ habits and devour a sheep named “concordia,” The sheep refer to the Concordia Wittenbergensis, a failed attempt at reconciling Lutherans and Zwinglians in 1536. The caption underneath the illustration reads: “Beware the false prophets coming in sheepskins to you, but inside they are rapacious wolves” (Mt. 7). Having considered a few of the most gruesome polemical images in Christian history, one’s theological and aesthetic sensibilities will find relief in the famous Reformation altarpiece located in the city church in Wittenberg.19 It bears testimony to the central Lutheran understanding of being Church as mentioned in Article 7 of the Augsburg Confession of 1530: “Also they teach that one holy Church is to continue forever. The Church is the congregation of saints, in which the Gospel is rightly taught and the Sacraments are rightly administered.” On the left, Melanchthon, aided by Luther and Cranach, baptises a child. In the central panel Luther distributes Holy Communion in a Last Supper Scene, and on the right panel the Reformer of the north of Germany, Johannes Bugenhagen, with the keys, hears Confession. It is interesting to note that in this altarpiece confession features as the third sacrament, alluding to the fact that Luther did not want to abolish its practice, even though he would harshly criticise the papal abuse of coercing people to confession instead of it being encouraged as a voluntary act. Article 11 of the Augsburg Confession states that private absolution should remain in the church. However, private confession is not generally practised in Lutheran churches. On the predella, underneath we see Luther on the right with the open Bible preaching the Gospel and pointing to the small figure of Christ on the cross set in the centre against a bare church wall and the people of Wittenberg as the congregation, including Cranach, on the left. Joseph Leo Koerner begins his magisterial book The Reformation of the Image with an expansive analysis of this predella image and compares it with Caspar David Friedrich’s The Cross in the Mountain (1807/8), painted in the context of Romanticism and the Enlightenment. Friedrich, the foremost German Romantic painter, an ardent Lutheran who appears to have had contact with Schleiermacher, painted this first altarpiece dominated by landscape, that 19  Lucas Cranach the Elder, Wittenberg Altarpiece, Town and Parish Church of St. Mary, Wittenberg.

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is Christian faith expressed in the context of transcendence in nature. One sees a thin, tall cross embedded in an image of rocks and fir trees and the small, slight figure of Christ turned away from the viewer and towards the sun, symbolised through three rays, implying the Trinity. It is at once an expression of Luther’s deus absconditus and deus revelatus, with a stress on the hidden God, yet a God who, despite modernity’s doubts and questioning, is still there. Koerner writes that Cranach had deliberately detached his crucifix from the scene of preaching in which it rises. This was neither the historical, flesh-and-blood Crucifixion, nor a miraculous vision, nor a crafted effigy of Christ on the cross. Markedly removed from the physical world, yet still also visibly there, this quintessential Lutheran image marked a first step toward the pure facticity of Friedrich’s landscape view: where the Reformation located the sacred in a separate realm of inner faith, Romanticism made do with the residual void. The modern age dawned within the Protestant altarpiece at the place where, in Luther’s own church, painting endeavoured to show divinity’s detachment from the world…. Friedrich and Cranach, it seemed, addressed the same question: How visually to represent a hidden God?20

It seems to me that one could push this argument further, namely that Friedrich, about 250 years later in a context of the transition into the modern age, found himself not only trying to render the hidden God, but was painting in an era in which faith itself became increasingly privatised, hidden, and no longer quite as much taken for granted as it once was— hence the Romantic tendency of transposing religious sensibility into feeling and nature. Koerner comments that “at first glance” Cranach’s and Friedrich’s works appear to be “paradigmatic instruments of a disenchantment of the world,” the process in which, according to Max Weber, “magic was eliminated from salvation.”21 Koerner asserts, however, that Cranach’s works actually replaced both the Catholic retable and the “iconoclastic blank that gave the new painting space,”22 He thus concludes that the Lutheran crucifix is “an icon and an iconoclasm. It does not simply restore, reactively, sacred pictures to a cleansed church. It maintains itself in a state of remove, asserting by visual means that what it shows is 20  Joseph Leo Koerner, The Reformation of the Image (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2004/2008 pbk.), 9–10. 21  Ibid., 11. 22  Ibid., 11.

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e­ lsewhere and invisible. Yet, it also stubbornly stands there.”23 Koerner calls this effect of having and not having images “iconoclash” and points out that Lutheran art renewed rather than removed church art. Yet, as an art historian he also notes that, in fact, works like Cranach’s evidence a “decline in the craft of painting,” the portrayal of Christ on the Wittenberg altarpiece “being aesthetically unengaging.”24 What came to matter was the didactic, communicative dimension in art, rather than the emphasis on “superior craftsmanship” and the aesthetic which would celebrate that a “sacred likeness was humanly made” and which thus might “advertise its kinship with an idol.”25 Having considered some works by Cranach the Elder and Younger, ranging from outstanding altarpieces to crude polemic pamphlets, one is made aware how both powerfully contributed to the spread of the ideas of Luther and his followers, thereby aiding the Reformation in conceptual-­ artistic fashion. Despite the decline in the aesthetic quality of art noted by Koerner and other art-historians, the reputation of Cranach as belonging to the leading painters in early sixteenth-century Europe as well as his and his son’s legacy as the artists of the Reformation remains undisputed.

Conclusion: From Wittenberg to the World Wide Web The Council of Trent, in its response to the Reformers, reiterated mainly what the Second Council of Nicaea had affirmed about 800 years earlier. It stressed that those responsible for teaching the Catholic faith were to “instruct the faithful diligently” regarding the saints, relics, and images. Luther similarly and essentially commended the educational, evangelical, and memorial role of images and abundantly used them for his reformatory aims. He fundamentally considered images in religious contexts a minor issue, a matter of Christian liberty. In this way Luther lowered the status of images. They were no longer to be regarded as means of good works by those who commissioned them, and they were no longer to be venerated but used primarily for teaching, witness, and memorial. In this way Luther’s approach assuaged any danger of associating such objects with “magic” powers, that is the danger of idolatry was removed. At the  Ibid., 11–12.  Ibid., 13. 25  Ibid., 13. 23 24

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same time, Luther did not go down the iconoclastic route of image destruction but nuanced its use. The Council of Trent, however, encouraged the continued invocation of saints and a proper honouring of relics and images. Those who deny the honour due to relics of the saints should be “condemned absolutely,” Yet, in order to distance themselves from accusations of idolatry, the Council clearly points out that veneration is understood to be paid to the “original subjects,” not to the material image.26 Luther essentially took a balanced approach to the question of images and crucifixes in places of worship. While he was critical of the possibility of their idolatrous abuses, he, unlike Zwingli’s and Calvin’s vehement iconoclasm, advocated moderate changes in the use of images, noting that it is essentially a matter of Christian liberty to have images or not. While Lutherans interpreted this liberty as a mandate to keep and value images, Calvin, Zwingli, and their followers took it to be the freedom and even imperative to destroy them.27 Luther and the Lutheran Church ever since have stayed thus in much closer proximity to Rome than to Zürich and Geneva regarding the question of religious imagery. As we have seen, to this day Christian spaces of worship significantly reflect the theological and liturgical aesthetics of their denominations. However, in the latter half of the twentieth century with the ecumenical movement and Vatican II, and with the unprecedented expansion over the past twenty-five years of interdisciplinary studies in theology and the arts among theologians of various denominational backgrounds, including even Calvinist and Pentecostal scholars, there is now large agreement on the necessity of developing aesthetic sensibility and art-historical awareness of the wealth of art with Christian subject matter in those studying for church ministry today as well as among the faithful. Unlike in the Middle Ages, art no longer functions as the biblia pauperum for an illiterate Christian laity, but rather it is the gallery which has become the clichéd “modern temple” for many among the educated middle classes, and the art market a promotion of good art at best and of the golden calves of the super-rich at worst. In our intensely visual age, people are bombarded like never before with images through internet and 26  On Luther, Zwingli, Calvin and the Council of Trent concerning images and aesthetics see my Theological Aesthetics—A Reader, 125–45. 27  Koerner, op.cit., 157–58. The first version of this article was published as ‘Luther and the Role of Images’ in Remembering the Reformation. Martin Luther and Catholic Theology, eds. Declan Marmion, Salvador Ryan, Gesa E. Thiessen, Minneapolis, Fortress Press, 2017, 167–192.

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television, including much imagery which is truly idolatrous and harmful, promoting consumerism, violence, and pornography. In the face of such negative influences, it is all the more important that the role of the visual arts conducive to worship, faith life, and education is explored and furthered in theology and ministry. Lutherans and Catholics willing to learn from, and co-operating with, one another need to give importance to the preached word and to the sacrament of Holy Communion, to communal singing and to visual art. Christians together must challenge, ask questions, and explore how images can play a positive, creative, and critical role in the church into the future. Hence, not unlike Luther 500 years ago, one would suggest that Christians today must be both, iconodules and iconoclasts, that is promoting images that are life-enhancing, while not being shy to question images that promote the antithesis of fundamental human and Christian values. If all of these components—word and music, sacramentality and image—are present in worship, communities will be sustained in their faith, in their aesthetic and liturgical sensibilities, and in their search for meaning, truth, beauty, and goodness in a suffering and fragmented world.

CHAPTER 12

Book Panel: Conversations with Bernhard Knorn, S.J. Dennis M. Doyle, Simone Sinn, Ralf K. Wüstenberg, and Bernhard Knorn

A. Reading Knorn’s Versöhnung und Kirche: Theologische Ansätze zur Realisierung des Friedens mit Gott in der Welt with a Focus on Ecumenism Dennis M. Doyle As soon as I got my hands on Bernhard Knorn’s book, Versöhnung und Kirche (Reconciliation and Church), I connected it with the theme of the

D. M. Doyle (*) Department of Religious Studies, University of Dayton, Dayton, OH, USA e-mail: [email protected] S. Sinn Ecumenical Institute, Château de Bossey, Bogis-Bossey, Switzerland e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 G. Mannion et al. (eds.), Ecumenical Perspectives Five Hundred Years After Luther’s Reformation, Pathways for Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-68360-3_12

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Ecclesiological Investigations conference held in Jena in 2017.1 It is such a good book. Yes, it is a German doctoral dissertation. It is, however, written by someone who obviously had more concerns than simply to earn his academic credentials. It is a book written with depth, sincerity, and integrity. I am most interested in what the book has to say about ecumenical matters as well as about Christian contributions toward reconciliation in the world. I want to be clear that the main intention of the author was to undertake as a Roman Catholic theologian a systematic study of the topic of reconciliation. To treat the book as primarily an ecumenical work is to come at it from a certain angle. The themes I will treat are there explicitly, but perhaps my own emphasis will not precisely capture the main emphasis of the text itself. In a way, I am asking, if this text were primarily ecumenical, what type of ecumenical approach does it offer and how does this impact questions concerning Christian contributions to reconciliation in the world? One could read the book as a bilateral dialogue between Roman Catholics and Protestants written as a monologue by a Jesuit priest. Yes, I am being facetious, but I mean it seriously when I say that it is truly good that we have not only Knorn and myself but also actual Protestants as part of this book forum. I will consider the book first in relation to the approach known as “receptive ecumenism.” Second, I will read it as a work in “we’re all in the same boat and so we’d better get our act together” ecumenism. Third, I consider it in connection with the idea of “ecumenical gift exchange.”  Bernhard Knorn, Versöhnung und Kirche: Theologische Ansätze zur Realisierung des Friedens mit Gott in der Welt, Frankfurter Theologische Studien 74 (Münster: Aschendorff, 2016). This essay and the following ones have been developed from presentations given on a panel in Jena in 2017 addressing Knorn’s book. 1

R. K. Wüstenberg Institut für Gesellschaftswissenschaften und Theologie, Flensburg, Germany e-mail: [email protected] B. Knorn Boston College, Newton, MA, USA Frankfurt–Sankt Georgen, Frankfurt, Germany e-mail: [email protected]

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Receptive Ecumenism Receptive ecumenism is a movement that began in frustration over the lack of real ecumenical progress among Christian traditions.2 It was not meant to replace the bilateral and multilateral dialogues, but rather to complement them and help to move things along. The main idea was to have scholars study traditions that are not their own in an open and appreciative manner. What can we learn from one another? How can we appreciate and recognize the Christianity of the other? How might we allow our knowledge of the other to impact our own beliefs and practices? Knorn’s Versöhnung und Kirche can be read as a work of receptive ecumenism in several ways. Knorn says explicitly that he was trying to arrive at a Roman Catholic take on what has been mostly a Protestant subject. Traditional Catholic reflection on reconciliation has been mainly limited to the Sacrament of Penance, now known as the Sacramental of Reconciliation. In contrast, Protestants have a well-developed teaching on reconciliation, a Versöhnungslehre. For Lutheran and Reformed theologians, reconciliation understood as atonement has been a topic at the heart of soteriology. It has also been a central topic in German Protestant philosophy, especially in the work and influence of Georg W.F. Hegel. Much of Knorn’s book consists in a study of traditional and contemporary Protestant sources. The traditional Protestant theological sources place their emphasis mainly on the vertical question of what it means to be reconciled with God. The traditional Protestant philosophical sources place their emphasis mainly on horizontal questions concerning reconciliation among peoples in the world. More recent Protestant theologians from Karl Barth to Miroslav Volf have placed great emphasis upon both of these things at the same time. Roman Catholics have much to learn from these Protestant thinkers, and Knorn’s book serves as a knowledgeable and appreciative guide. “We’re all in the same boat” Ecumenism Knorn also thinks that these questions about vertical and horizontal reconciliation are extremely important for all peoples in the world today. 2  For an introduction to this concept, see Paul D. Murray, ed., Receptive Ecumenism and the Call to Catholic Learning: Exploring a Way for Contemporary Ecumenism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008).

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He looks to Charles Taylor among others to express how today we live in a world that has difficulty connecting the immanent with the transcendent.3 This brings me to the “we’re all in the same boat” dimension of Knorn’s ecumenical approach. Christians who used to contend with each other in predominately Christian societies now experience a shared marginalization in societies that are increasingly secular and diverse. In these societies the loss of a sense of the transcendent exacerbates the consequences of ecumenical divisions, making Christian witness ever less credible. Knorn thinks that all Christians are especially challenged today to make the connection between reconciliation with God and Christian action directed toward reconciliation among peoples in the world. Knorn’s concern can be related to a contemporary pastoral problem. Some Christians are interested in the vertical dimension of reconciliation with God and see little need to be concerned about reconciliation among peoples in the world. Other Christians are devoted to social action of various kinds but see little reason to belong to a liturgical community. Yet other Christians think that both sides of this equation are of great importance but would be unable to articulate theologically how the two things are connected. Knorn thinks that both Barth and Volf manage to emphasize both sides of the equation, yet each could do a better job of explaining how these dimensions fit together.4 Barth is better at explaining the importance of vertical reconciliation with God. Barthian communities can tend toward withdrawal from the world. Volf is better at articulating why Christians should be involved in working toward the reconciliation of peoples in the world. As Knorn sees it, both Barth and Volf can use some help in connecting all the dots. Connecting these dots is the main emphasis of Knorn’s book and a crucial intellectual task in today’s world. How can Christian communities be simultaneously internally strong in terms of their

3  Knorn, Versöhnung, 270–72; Charles Taylor, A Secular Age (Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press, 2007). 4  Knorn, Versöhnung, 117–31. For Barth, Knorn looks mainly, though not exclusively, to Kirchliche Dogmatik, IV/1; English translation, Church Dogmatics, vol 4.1, trans. G.W. Bromiley (New York: T&T Clark, 2010). For Volf, Knorn draws much from Von der Ausgrenzunn zur Umarmung: Versöhnendes Handeln als Ausdruck christicher Identität, trans. Peter Aschoff (Marburg: Francke, 2012); English original, Exclusion and Embrace: A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and Reconciliation (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1996).

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reconciliation with God and committed to their mission of fostering reconciliation among peoples in the world? Ecumenical Gift Exchange This brings me to the “ecumenical gift exchange” dimension of Knorn’s book.5 This is where one Christian tradition offers something of its own belief and practice to the ecumenical table. The expectation is not that those of other Christian traditions will buy the offering wholesale, but rather that they will appreciate it and learn something from it. A good example of the potential for ecumenical gift exchange is the Baptist practice of adult-only Baptism. Christians who practice infant baptism can learn much from the Baptists. The core theological meaning of Baptism comes from what happens when a believing adult is baptized. Infant Baptism might remain statistically normative for most Christians, but all should recognize that adult Baptism is theologically normative. Contemplating the meaning of adult Baptism can help all Christians avoid collapsing the sacrament into a merely cultural ritual. It can help all Christians to recognize more fully the importance of the role of family, sponsors, and the entire faith community in the Baptism of an infant. So, what does Knorn bring to the ecumenical table? Remember, he thinks that all Christians are in the same boat today insofar as we live in a world that has trouble connecting transcendent mystery with immanent earthly experience. He has received from scripture study as well as from Protestant theology a dual focus on reconciliation with God and reconciliation among peoples in the world. Yet he thinks that the task of connecting the dots between these two forms of reconciliation remains. What Knorn brings to the ecumenical table is a Roman Catholic approach to sacramental theology and to ecclesiology. He offers to the ecumenical gift exchange a Catholic concept of a sacramental ecclesiology purified through the fires of the Second Vatican Council. It is a sacramental ecclesiology fit for a pilgrim church engaged in a humble journey of sharing both the message and the reality of God’s gift of reconciliation. Traditional Roman Catholic theology teaches that sacraments are visible signs of invisible grace. They allow one to experience the transcendent through immanent signs. Knorn thinks that Thomas Aquinas 5  See Margaret O’Gara, The Ecumenical Gift Exchange (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1998).

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provided an ontological understanding that supported this Catholic approach to sacraments. After Aquinas, however, Catholic sacramental theology became overly objectified. It placed relatively little emphasis on the reception of the sacrament by the subject. Vatican II addressed this deficiency and tried to arrive at more of a balance between the objective and subjective dimensions. Moreover, the council applied this purified version of sacramental theology directly to the church. Through the work of Otto Semmelroth, Karl Rahner, and others, the church as sacrament became one of the leading images of the church in Lumen gentium.6 It is this theological understanding of the church as sacrament that Knorn brings with him to the ecumenical gift exchange. He does not expect Christians of other traditions to buy the notion wholesale. Nevertheless, he wants everyone to take note that the church as sacrament provides a way of connecting the dots between reconciliation with God and reconciliation among peoples in the world. It does this in several ways, of which I will highlight two. First, understanding the church as sacrament supports the idea of the church as providing a space in which reconciliation with God and with each other can take place. Knorn believes strongly that reconciliation needs a place in which it can happen. The apostolic ministry of reconciliation must remain integral to the mission of the church today. A sacramental ecclesiology helps us to understand church communities as places in which our reconciliation with God and with each other can be played out. Church communities can provide a place of playfulness, a place where there is room for unexpected concepts. Relative to the world, a church community should create a kind of Verfremdungseffekt.7 Like a Bertold Brecht play, church communities should awaken their members to their role as social critics. Christians should be inspired to have new insights concerning absurd and unacceptable elements of the status quo as well as visions of what might be done about it. Understanding the church as sacrament thus makes needed connections between reconciliation with God, reconciliation within church communities, and work for reconciliation among peoples in the world. 6  Knorn, Versöhnung, 272–44. See also Otto Semmelroth, Die Kirche als Ursakrament (Frankfurt: Joseph Knecht, 1953); Karl Rahner, Kirche und Sakramente (Freiburg: Herder, 1961); English translation, The Church and the Sacraments, trans. W.J. O’Hara (Freiburg: Herder, 1963). 7  Knorn, Versöhnung, 206.

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Second, a sacramental approach offers a way of understanding the presence and activity of God within Christian action in the world. On this point Knorn draws a brief point of contrast between Volf and his own position.8 On the one hand, Knorn thinks that Volf does a good job of arguing that Christians should be inspired by their faith to engage in the work of reconciliation among peoples in the world. On the other hand, Knorn thinks that a Catholic sacramental approach can take us a step farther. Christian action in the world is not only inspired by Christian faith. It also represents sacramentally the presence and activity of the triune God. In Christian action, Christ is present reconciling the world to himself. Conclusion Knorn is not asking that all Christians adopt wholesale a contemporary Roman Catholic approach to a sacramental ecclesiology. Also, I am sure that he is aware of the work of various theologians who, for some time, have already been retrieving a more sacramental vision within the context of their own traditions. Still, he brings his gift to the ecumenical table, hoping that Christians of various traditions might in some way be inspired by it. I end by raising one question. There was some conflict at the Second Vatican Council concerning the notion of the church as sacrament.9 Some voices spoke out against it. Other voices expressed concern that the concept not be exaggerated. Some of these concerns are still around today. Does Knorn see a need for selling his approach not only to other Christians but also to many Roman Catholics?

B. Theology Empowering the Ministry of Reconciliation in the World Simone Sinn Bernhard Knorn’s book Versöhnung und Kirche addresses the urgent question of how to understand and speak of realizing peace with God in today’s world. One of the main goals of this publication is to clarify  Knorn, Versöhnung, 311–12.  Dennis M. Doyle, “Otto Semmelroth and the Advance of the Church as Sacrament at Vatican II,” Theological Studies 76 (March 2015): 65–86. 8 9

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theologically the relationship between reconciliation as a phenomenon in this world and reconciliation as a matter of faith. Today, as throughout many centuries, people talk about reconciliation in worldly and in religious terms. Both diplomatic language and theological language use the notion of reconciliation, and both develop models of reconciliation. The theological use focuses not only on God’s relationship to human beings, but also on reconciliatory processes among human beings. One of Knorn’s key questions is how we can articulate theologically the link between, on the one hand, reconciliation between God and human beings and, on the other hand, reconciliation among human beings. This guiding question caught my interest. One of the questions that I often encounter in my work at the Lutheran World Federation (hereafter LWF) is how can we articulate our theology, our own narrative, in ways that communicate to others outside? Theology is not just giving an account to ourselves as to what we believe and how we embody that belief; theology should also be a means of giving an account to others and of enhancing dialogue with others. In order to engage in meaningful conversation with others, it is helpful to try to learn the other’s grammar, the basic structures of his or her narrative. It is clear throughout the book that Knorn’s end goal is not simply to further refine an internal ecumenical conversation, but that his passion is geared toward more deeply understanding the relationship to the world. Not only Reformed, Lutheran, Catholic, and other insights are there for their mutual delight, but interaction among them is also emphasized in order to deepen the theological engagement with the world. There are strong passages where Knorn explores the incarnational dimension of faith and shows that more profound engagement with the world indeed deepens theology. And, in turn, in order to convincingly be present in the world, theological clarity is helpful. I would like to illustrate the significance of Bernhard Knorn’s theological contribution by pointing to a conference called “Responsibility of Religions for Peace” held in May 2017 in Berlin.10 The German Federal Foreign Office invited more than 100 religious leaders because of their capacity in peacebuilding. Religious communities are perceived as an important part of civil society; indeed, their message of peace is seen as 10  Auswärtiges Amt, Dokumentation. Berliner Treffen, 21.-23. Mai 2017, https://www. auswaertiges-amt.de/cae/ser vlet/contentblob/768990/publicationFile/230223/ FriedensverantwortungReligionen.pdf (24 September 2017).

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relevant for diplomatic peacebuilding efforts regionally and internationally. This new opening of the political-diplomatic realm for religious actors is at the same time an opportunity and a challenge for the religious communities. Their unique expertise on peacebuilding is asked for, and indeed they can contribute and make a difference. However, there are also questions. The two most prominent are will religious communities and their leaders be instrumentalized in this process such that they will be used for the interests of others? And, secondly, will religious communities be able to contribute with their distinct narratives of reconciliation and peace, or should the conversation on peace stay on a general level? For Christians, conversation about peace will include not only reflection on conflict and violence but also the theological categories of sin and grace. When Martin Luther explained the sinfulness of the human being, he spoke about the human as being “incurvatus in se ipsum,” turned into oneself. This is at the heart of what sin is. In order to break out of this self-centeredness and the concern for oneself, the human being needs the verbum externum, the word coming from outside ourselves, calling us into relationship. And this call to relationship actually empowers us to engage in relationship with others. Here we already see the basic structure of a reconciliation process. If we take the Lutheran-Mennonite process of repentance and reconciliation, we realize that Mennonites and Lutherans, as they started to listen to one another, came to recognize that they were stuck in their own stories about themselves. Not only did they develop a shared story, but their own stories about themselves also changed.11 Structure of the Book In the first part of the book, Knorn offers phenomenological observations that outline the use of the term “reconciliation.” He draws upon Paul Ricoeur as one of the important voices for understanding the complex distinctions of guilt and responsibility, and of the processes of forgiving, forgetting, and reconciling. Knorn outlines the phenomenon of reconciliation through its constituents: justice, truth, and peace.

11  The Lutheran World Federation, Healing Memories. Implications of the Reconciliation between Lutherans and Mennonites (Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2016).

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In the second part, Knorn provides reflections on a theology of reconciliation that is informed by the biblical witness as well as prominent systematic theological contributions, as, for example, Karl Barth, Miroslav Volf, Wolfhart Pannenberg, and Jürgen Werbick. He discusses the interrelatedness between covenant and reconciliation, emphasizing the importance of restoring community, and explores Paul’s understanding of the ministry of reconciliation in 2 Corinthians 5. In the third part, Knorn deepens these classic approaches on reconciliation that focus on Christology by asking what the place and the role of the church in reconciliation processes is. He takes up ecclesiological insights from the Second Vatican Council and discusses a number of relevant ecclesiological perspectives. Whereas in the second part of the book on Christology, Protestant perspectives are quite prominent, indeed they almost seem to have an overweight, in the third part, Roman Catholic perspectives are the leading voices. These Roman Catholic perspectives are only slightly interrupted through reference to the recent ecclesiological document of the World Council of Churches, called “The Church: Towards a Common Vision,”12 and to Eberhard Jüngel’s reflections on ecclesiology. I will get back to the ecumenical implications of Knorn’s engagement with Jüngel shortly. Deepening Ecclesiology from a Theology of Reconciliation For me, one of the most valuable sections in the book is the part in which Knorn talks about “the church as place for reconciliation and for the need of reconciliation.” His concept of the church explicitly includes the need for reconciliation, that is, sinfulness. This resonates with me as a Lutheran. Moreover, it helps me to learn more precisely how to talk about the sinfulness of the church. Knorn is, of course, not the first to articulate the sinfulness of the church in ecclesiological terms, but the way in which he, from out of a theology of reconciliation, deepens that reflection is noteworthy. Knorn argues: As being, in principle, a communion reconciled with God, [the church] is a precursor and sign for the reconciliation of all people with God, and an instrument to transform the world towards peace. It would be problematic, 12  World Council of Churches, The Church: Towards a Common Vision, Faith and Order Paper 214 (Geneva: WCC Publications, 2013).

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however, to uncritically understand the church as instrument and intermediary (Mittel and Mittlerin) of reconciliation. The church can become this, but this task can only be fulfilled with credibility, if it is a communion that in actual practice knows that it is in need of reconciliation and lives out of the gift of reconciliation. Indeed, the church only recognizes its need for reconciliation out of reconciliation. The church points towards the eschatological fulfillment. (314)

These are helpful perspectives on the way toward a shared understanding of the church ecumenically. The church is grounded in that receptive attitude of receiving reconciliation before it shares the message of reconciliation. The church is ecclesia audiens before it becomes ecclesia docens. Knorn observes critically that Catholic teaching primarily focuses on the sacrament of penance as the place where the reality of reconciliation can be experienced. Knorn wants to move beyond that. He argues that it is not only in this or in that individual sacramental act that reconciliation takes shape but reconciliation is also a process, often a long process. Therefore, he wants to establish a theology that considers the church as place of reconciliation more broadly. Knorn further points toward the vocation of lay people in the ministry of reconciliation. He underlines that this ministry is not just to be seen as “inspired” by the church’s message of reconciliation, that is, being a fruit of the church’s teaching of reconciliation, but that actually this ministry is a witness to reconciliation, that is, it is a place where reconciliation is realized. There is a double implication in this approach, in one of which my Lutheran heart rejoices and in the other of which my Lutheran mind is struggling. First, in this approach, the whole people of God are recognized as being the place where reconciliation becomes reality, not just in the sacraments mediated by priests. That the theology of reconciliation pushes us to move from a narrow focus on sacraments to the church as people of God is indeed very helpful and opens further ecumenical possibilities. However, the second implication in Knorn’s approach comes from his strong emphasis on the sacramentality of the church. This, for me as a Lutheran, and I think for most Protestants, is quite difficult to deal with. Our understanding of the notion of sacrament does not allow us to call the church as a whole “sacrament.” In Luther’s understanding of sacrament, it is important that it is an action that God has instituted through God’s word, one that surely relates God’s promise to this effective means of

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grace. Eberhard Jüngel, in his prominent article on ecclesiology, argues that ultimately it is only Christ himself who is the effective means of grace; the church cannot be classified as sacrament. Knorn himself points out the questions that need to be discussed further in conversation between Catholics and Protestants. Deepening the Theology of Reconciliation from Baptismal Theology Recently, baptism has again gained new prominence in ecumenical dialogues, not only in terms of mutual recognition of baptism but also with regard to a deepened understanding of baptismal vocation and Christian discipleship. The current international Roman Catholic— Lutheran—Mennonite trilateral dialogue pursues this dimension. My hope and expectation is that we might see some advancement in ecumenical ecclesiology through such baptismal theology that includes notions of baptismal vocation and discipleship. Knorn’s emphasis on the whole people of God, that is, each Christian partaking in the ministry of reconciliation, could also be linked to baptismal vocation. The ministry of reconciliation flowing from baptism entails conversion on a personal and on an ecclesial level, as well as a turn to witness to reconciliation to the world. The statement that Pope Francis and LWF President Munib Younan signed in the Cathedral in Lund, Sweden, on 31 October 2016, points in that direction: While we are profoundly thankful for the spiritual and theological gifts received through the Reformation, we also confess and lament before Christ that Lutherans and Catholics have wounded the visible unity of the Church. Theological differences were accompanied by prejudice and conflicts, and religion was instrumentalized for political ends. Our common faith in Jesus Christ and our baptism demand of us a daily conversion, by which we cast off the historical disagreements and conflicts that impede the ministry of reconciliation. While the past cannot be changed, what is remembered and how it is remembered can be transformed. We pray for the healing of our wounds and of the memories that cloud our view of one another. We emphatically reject all hatred and violence, past and present, especially that expressed in the name of religion. Today, we hear God’s command to set

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aside all conflict. We recognize that we are freed by grace to move towards the communion to which God continually calls us.13

This paragraph, in my view, is shaped in paradigmatic ways by the Christian grammar of reconciliation. Together with many, I hope that this grammar can permeate our relationships ad intra and ad extra. As Knorn speaks of “the church as place of reconciliation and of the need for reconciliation,” I would like to add to that “the ecumenical movement as place of reconciliation and of the need for reconciliation.” The ecumenical movement has helped our churches to understand more deeply what it means to be the church, and the ecumenical movement has considerably contributed to reconciliation processes, both in terms of ecclesial processes and community processes. Finally, I would like to underline one important aspect that Knorn clearly articulates in his book: Reconciliation processes not only look back to heal past divisions, but they look ahead toward a shared future of the communities involved, and thus they build communion. It is promising to follow this path that Knorn has set out.

C. Knorn in Connection with Zehner and Bonhoeffer Ralf K. Wüstenberg Bernhard Knorn, S.J., PhD, is a research scholar in systematic theology at Boston College and Frankfurt–Sankt Georgen. Before joining the Boston College School of Theology and Ministry as an international fellow in 2016, Fr. Knorn studied at the Universities of Munich and Mainz, as well as in Rome. Among his research interests are the Christian motivation of the resistance against the Nazi regime and the efforts of the churches for reconciliation after World War II. He studied in particular the participation of the Jesuit Alfred Delp in the Kreisau Circle resistance group and the German-Polish reconciliation process.

13  Joint Statement on the Occasion of the Joint Catholic-Lutheran Commemoration of the Reformation (Lund, 31 October 2016), 1f. https://static1.squarespace.com/ static/56fb84fc4d088ebedd92cb93/t/5817586cb3db2b4001f93f86/1477924972691/ Joint+Commemoration+Joint+Statement+Final+EN.pdf.

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The biographical background of the author already gives an idea why the subject of reconciliation became important to him. The book under consideration in this review is his doctoral thesis on the theology of reconciliation (“Reconciliation and Church”). Knorn provided a thorough study that not only discusses concepts of reconciliation but also aims at relating the results to ecclesiology, and is undertaking this in a highly ecumenical manner (by calling upon a number of Protestant witnesses both from the Reformed and from the Lutheran spectrum such as Karl Barth and Miroslav Volf). The entire third chapter of the 363-page strong book is dealing, on more than 100 pages, with the role of the church in reconciliation (191–315). The well written and highly informative book is following two aims: first, exploring the motif of reconciliation between humankind and God as addressed in various academic fields, and second, dealing with the question of the role of the church in reconciliation processes and, in this context, tackling the question of the relationship between reconciliation among humankind and reconciliation of humankind with God. In order to achieve the first goal, Knorn examines in a key chapter the phenomena that are associated with reconciliation in various fields and dimensions (“Phänomenologische Beobachtungen”). Here, relationships and dependencies are discussed, such as the question of truth or forgiveness as a precondition for reconciliation. In an interesting sideline, Knorn takes up Volf’s view that in some instances, an active way of forgetting, namely “non-remembrance,” could pave the way to personal reconciliation (52). The chapter ends with a short review of the political dimensions of reconciliation (reflecting the work of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa). In another significant chapter, Knorn analyzes various approaches representing a theology of reconciliation (Ansätze einer Theologie der Versöhnung). Clearly, not all phenomena discussed in the previous chapter should be put under the umbrella of theological reconciliation. Knorn makes clear that a legal debate about compensation or the strategic metaphorical misuse of reconciliation to achieve political goals should not be connected with theological reconciliation (cf. p.  81, “Es wäre historisch-­ kritisch unangemessen, rechtlich-metaphorische Schadensersatz Diskurse, … die strategische Metaphorik von Sieg und Befreiung … unmittelbar in die

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personale Kategorie der Versöhnung zu übertragen.”)14 Though Knorn clearly sees that there is no univocal theological concept of reconciliation, he attempts to develop criteria for theological reconciliation by drawing upon biblical theology and biblical motifs, such as a theology of covenant, as well as upon theological approaches in the past and present. In this way he prepares for his significant chapter on the church. For Knorn argues that, when considering reconciliation, there is a need for a stronger ecclesiological component. His point is that Catholics, by highlighting the role of the church, have something distinctive to contribute to this connection of reconciliation between God and humankind and among humans themselves. In Knorn’s discussion of Aquinas, for example, he underlines the strong ontology, especially Aquinas’s clear understanding of the distinction between God and the world (God as both fully transcendent and fully active in the world). According to Knorn, Christology lost its connection to a sacramental worldview after Aquinas and became somewhat reductionist. In many Protestant approaches, as in Calvin, both sacramental and social action can be inspired by God, but they do not symbolically make God present in a real way. Grace-filled relations between God and human beings are strictly a one-sided affair. In more recent Protestant approaches, Knorn also sees shortcomings. Whereas, on the one hand, Karl Barth emphasizes the vertical dimension of reconciliation, Miroslav Volf, on the other hand, emphasizes the horizontal. But neither are able to connect in any real way the vertical and the horizontal. It would have been interesting to see what Knorn would make of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s ecclesiology and approach toward sacraments, and what Bonhoeffer’s ecclesial assumption, “Christ existing as congregation” (“Christus als Gemeinde existierend”) from his doctoral dissertation, Communio Sanctorum, could mean.15 For Knorn, a sacramental model of the church together with reconciling action in the world makes the connection between reconciliation with God, reconciliation within church communities, and reconciliation outside of church communities. Since Vatican II, Catholic sacramental ecclesiology has become more humble and eschatological (and less mechanical 14   “It would be historically-critically inappropriate to transfer [biblical] legal and metaphorical discourses concerning compensation, … the strategic metaphor of victory and liberation … without qualification into the personal category of reconciliation.” 15  Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Communio Sanctorum: A Theological Study of the Sociology of the Church, trans. by Reinhard Krauss and Nancy Lukens (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1998). Bonhoeffer’s 1927 dissertation was originally published in German in 1930.

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and objectivistic). A new interpretation of sacrament can preserve an understanding of the sovereignty of God as well as the freedom of human beings. In sum, the sacramental approach connects faith, ritual, and ethical practice, all of which is discussed in Knorn’s book at some length. From this we see that the role of the church as sacrament is clearly the climactic point of the study. Church as sacrament offers Knorn an explanatory context within which the other images and concepts of the church from Vatican II can be placed. Such a sacramental approach should be applied to the reconciling activity of Christ, of the Church community, and of the Church at work in the world. The criteria are God is always the all-powerful and merciful agent; human freedom is supported and enhanced by God’s grace; reconciliation remains always a free gift; and human beings cooperate with the passing on of the gift of reconciliation (and thus are more than beings simply acting on their own having been inspired by God). In conclusion, I would like to raise some questions for Knorn regarding his helpful and thought-provoking work. 1. I agree with the point that in some ways Protestants can benefit from their own versions of a sacramental theology of reconciliation as carried out in the world. Such a theology could help to connect the dots between reconciliation with God and reconciliation among human beings with intellectual integrity. However, what does Knorn have to say about such attempts that have already been made, such as in the study, Das Forum der Vergebung in der Kirche, by Joachim Zehner?16 Such approaches have themselves already been criticized for connecting soteriology and ecclesiology in a too close manner. Does connecting the dots between theological and political (or societal) reconciliation necessarily need the church as mediator? Could they alternatively be interpreted Christologically within the societal or political context? 2. Does Knorn think that a sacramental theology of reconciliation can be fruitfully connected with other religions? I am concerned as to whether or not any sacrament that requires a univocal Christian understanding can virtuallly be forced on non-Christians, whether they be atheists, agnostics, or non-Christian believers. In my opinion, the so-called

16  Joachim Zehner, Das Forum der Vergebung in der Kirche (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 1998).

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inclusivist stance taken in Vatican II’s Nostra aetate did not go far enough. 3. I wonder what Knorn thinks of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s ecclesiology, especially the interaction of Christology and ecclesiology as expressed in “Christ existing as congregation?” I want to again express my appreciation for the ways in which Knorn’s approach is intended to be ecumenical. He offers a missional ecclesiology grounded in the practical concern of reconciliation. His study is deeply biblical. He draws significantly upon Protestant traditions, theology, and thought. Knorn brings to this ecumenical gift exchange a Catholic concept of a sacramental ecclesiology purified through the fires of the Second Vatican Council. It is a sacramental ecclesiology fit for a pilgrim church engaged in a humble journey of sharing both the message and the reality of God’s gift of reconciliation. My questions notwithstanding, I am grateful for Knorn’s serious contributions to this ecumenical conversation.

D. Relating the Reconciliation in the World to the Reconciliation with God: A Response to Dennis Doyle, Simone Sinn, and Ralf Wüstenberg Bernhard Knorn In systematic theology, we are currently experiencing a paradoxical situation. Because of assiduous dialogues and growing mutual ecumenical agreements, Catholic and Protestant theologians understand each other much better than some decades ago; however, it seems that the denominational gap between the two theological cultures still persists. In many cases, theological debates do not cross this gap. The same is true for current English- and German-speaking theologies that to a great extent seem to develop almost independently from each other. It is therefore a very positive sign that Protestant and Catholic theologians from both linguistic groups joined for the book panel on Versöhnung und Kirche.17 They 17  Bernhard Knorn, Versöhnung und Kirche. Theologische Ansätze zur Realisierung des Friedens mit Gott in der Welt (Münster: Aschendorff, 2016). Book panel of the Ecclesiological Investigations Network conference “Reformation and Global Reconciliation” in Jena/ Germany, May 31, 2017.

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represent different academic cultures and styles with different theological terms because of different historical and doctrinal developments. The three panelists, experts in ecclesiology, ecumenism, and reconciliation studies, have, in my view, correctly identified the leading motivations and concepts of the book. The main goal of this response to the contributions of Dennis Doyle, Simone Sinn, and Ralf Wüstenberg is to engage some of their suggestions, questions, and concerns regarding my central thesis. This article is not a condensed exposition of the book; rather, it focuses on the suggestion in the final chapter: The understanding of the Church as sacrament offers a model for theologically relating God’s gift of reconciliation with the many efforts of reconciliation in the world.18 I will first discuss the theological relation between these two different dimensions of reconciliation. Then I will contrast a Christological with a sacramental model of the Church in order to highlight the advantages of the latter for a better understanding of the previously mentioned relation. Reconciliation in the World as a Theological Reality  orldly Symbolic Representations of the Reconciliation with God W For developing a theology of reconciliation, Catholic theologians can learn a lot from Protestant colleagues since in German-speaking Lutheran and Calvinist systematic theologies, the concept of reconciliation is much more developed than in most of Catholic theology.19 Protestant soteriology often works with the idea of reconciliation between God and human beings through the vicarious suffering of Christ. In close contact with biblical studies, recent works in systematic theology highlight the priority of grace in reconciliation: God is the one who reconciles us with himself out of mercy, not because of a penal substitution. But also the human part of it is vividly discussed: the consequence that Christians need to proclaim and display this reconciliation in word and deed. In terms of an ecumenical “gift exchange,” as Doyle writes, Catholic theologians can offer their developments in ecclesiology and sacramental theology for an up-to-date  Knorn, Versöhnung und Kirche, 257–315.  Gunther Wenz, Geschichte der Versöhnungslehre in der evangelischen Theologie der Neuzeit, 2 vols. (Munich: Kaiser, 1984–1986). Wenz does not treat the important Reformed reconciliation theology of Karl Barth, The Church Dogmatics, ed. by Thomas Forsyth Torrance and Geoffrey W.  Bromiley, trans. by Geoffrey W.  Bromiley, vol. IV, 4 parts (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1956–1969). 18 19

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understanding of the Church as a space for experiencing the reconciliation with God through human signs. Such a primarily theological concept of the reconciliation between God and human as grace, in which the death of Christ “for us” plays an important role, contrasts with many “worldly” reconciliation initiatives and efforts that focus, for example, on learning to accept one’s destiny, healing inner wounds, overcoming resentments, asking for pardon, forgiving offenses, making peace between enemies, working for justice and mutual understanding in fractured societies, remembering the cruelties of the past, and building community together with former enemies. These “horizontal” reconciliations are usually not connected with the “vertical” dimension of reconciliation, or only accidentally by adducing some spiritual motivation for “Christian” peace-making, like selected verses from the Sermon of the Mount (e.g. Mt 5:3–12; 5:38–48) or St. Paul’s idea of “ambassadors” of the reconciliation with God in the world (2 Cor. 5:20). Christians may emphasize that reconciliation, at least in traditionally Christian cultures, is a concept strongly influenced by the Christian faith. They may offer as their contribution their spiritual resources as well as the Church as a conducive space for reconciliation initiatives. Moreover, from a Christian faith perspective, the many human attempts at reconciliation can be interpreted theologically as a consequence and symbolic display of their reconciliation with God out of gratitude for this gift of God. Since the believers live in a restored relationship with God and are in faith aware of it, they are called to live up to it in their human relationships. Their initiatives to restore broken relationships and their ever-imperfect reconciliations in the world will then symbolically show their faith in God’s mercy and peace with them and with the whole of creation (Col. 1:20). The term “symbolic” refers to a theological theory of symbols, understood as human, imperfect signs that have an inner relation to the symbolized transcendent reality.20 As such, they make this reality present and ready to experience in human activity. In this view, such a symbolic representation is not limited only to reconciliation within the Church among Christians or to something done out of explicitly Christian motives. All created reality may in faith become a symbol for God’s saving and reconciling activity. The symbolic concept does not demand to “baptize” reconciliation efforts in order to make them ready to symbolically represent 20  Karl Rahner, “The Theology of the Symbol,” in Theological Investigations, trans. by Kevin Smyth, vol. 4 (Baltimore, MD: Helicon, 1966), 221–52.

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for believers the transcendent reality of reconciliation with God. However, reflecting a concern of Simone Sinn, Christians themselves, out of their restored relation with God, need to make this interpretation in order to avoid instrumentalizations of the Christian concept. This theology of symbols is in Catholic theology closely connected with a new sacramental theology that goes beyond the single sacraments. In this theory, sacramentality is a fundamental structure of the God-world relation, based on God’s incarnation in Jesus Christ.21 In Christ’s humanity, God expresses himself completely; the human reality, of course, will never be able to reveal God in all clarity to us. This new concept of sacramentality describes primarily a symbolic relationship that reflects the real presence of God in the world, whereas the traditional concept had primarily focused on the efficacy of a sacrament, that is, on how God works in a particular place in time. This difference is probably the main source of Protestant-Catholic misunderstandings, which Sinn mentions in her statement. They appear starkly, for instance, in an article of the Protestant theologian Eberhard Jüngel, who does not share the symbolic concept. For him, in sacramental signs (Baptism and Lord’s Supper) the Word of God “interrupts” the world.22 Recent ecumenical agreements, however, have at least in part adopted the extended, ecclesiological concept of sacrament.23 The Theological Reality of Reconciliation Made Present and Understood in the Church This ecclesiological concept of sacrament can easily be used for “connecting the dots” (Doyle) of the two dimensions of reconciliation. In all New Testament references, which explicitly mention the reconciliation with God, this transcendent reality is immediately applied to a social reality: God makes peace with “all,” which builds a community of the reconciled, and its proclamation intends to break the still existing barriers in the

21  Karl-Heinz Menke, Sakramentalität. Wesen und Wunde des Katholizismus (Regensburg: Pustet, 2012). 22  Eberhard Jüngel, “Die Kirche als Sakrament?,” Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche 80, no. 4 (1983): 432–57; cf. R. David Nelson, The Interruptive Word: Eberhard Jüngel on the Sacramental Structure of God’s Relation to the World (London: T&T Clark, 2013), 154–62. 23  Faith and Order Commission, ed., The Church: Towards a Common Vision (Geneva: World Council of Churches Publications, 2013), n. 27.

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world.24 In particular since the past century, Christian communities all around the world have increased their commitment in reconciliation initiatives. This convergence offers an ecumenical opportunity to reflect on the role of the Church in relating the vertical and the horizontal dimension of reconciliation to each other. The Church in this sense is not a necessary “mediator” of reconciliation—a point that both Sinn and Wüstenberg discuss in their papers. The Christian community rather offers itself as a space for reconciliation: for initiatives that try to bridge divisions as well as for experiencing the reconciliation with God. The connection of these two dimensions is a symbolic one; the Church is not understood as an intermediary. The community is rather a base of experience for reconciliation, since it lives from the reconciliation with God as well as from the need for and experience of reconciliation among its members. Simone Sinn highlights: “The Church is ecclesia audiens [including: paenitens] before it becomes ecclesia docens.” Although we encounter the Church only in its denominational realizations with its structures and many deficiencies, systematic theological study tends to focus on the Christian idea of the Church that transcends the historical settings. This idea, however, would not represent the reality of the Church if it painted only an idealistic image. The historical, human reality of the Church belongs to its concept. A theory of the Church as sacrament in line with the Second Vatican Council is able to integrate the ecclesial ideal with the historical reality. Moreover, it is possible for theologians from various denominations to debate this ecclesiological concept and then to accept or adopt at least parts of it in a mutual learning process.25 Part of the ecclesiological vision of the Council is the openness of the Catholic Church toward the ecumenical movement. It is therefore consequential for Catholics to participate in ecumenical dialogues, relations, agreements, collaborations, and celebrations, which are—with Simone Sinn—an exercise and expression of ecclesial reconciliation.26  Rom. 5:8–11; 2 Cor. 5:18–21; Eph. 2:13–18; Col. 1:18–23.   Martien E.  Brinkman, “The Church as Sacrament of the Kingdom: A Reformed Commentary,” Exchange 37, no. 4 (2008): 497–507, https://doi. org/10.1163/157254308X340422; from Anglican perspective in dialogue with Orthodox theologians: Rowan Williams, “The Church as Sacrament,” International Journal for the Study of the Christian Church 10, no. 1 (2010): 6–12, https://doi. org/10.1080/14742251003643825. 26  I further explore the ecumenical relevance of the theological concept of reconciliation in an article prepared for publication in Ecclesiology. 24 25

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Ralf K.  Wüstenberg asks how to integrate other religions within this view of reconciliation focused on the Church. Are believers in other religions and non-believers excluded from “Christian” reconciliation initiatives if we make a strong connection between reconciliation and the Church? For Christians, the Church is the community of those who believe in God’s gift of reconciliation. Those who let this reality in faith transform their lives will try to live accordingly in opening spaces for human and social reconciliation. It would be completely against the Christian idea of reconciliation to exclude those who may not have realized this gift of God. Christians rather should invite non-Christians to make peace as equal partners who are prompted by their own motivations.27 Of course, both will need to dialogue and find out if the different concepts of human or social reconciliation match sufficiently for a fruitful cooperation. As argued earlier, Christians can regard any reconciliation as a symbolic sign for the reconciliation of God with the whole world, as long as the former embodies basic structures and ideas of the latter. In this regard, Christians ultimately do what Wüstenberg suggests: they engage in a Christological interpretation within the societal or political context because they realize the relationship with the reconciliation that Christ established between God and us. For various reasons, however, which will be discussed in the following section, such a “worldly” reconciliation based on differing religious or non-religious motivations is theologically easier to integrate into a sacramental model (with Christological-­ incarnational foundations) than into a Christological model of the relation between the transcendental dimension of reconciliation and its social realizations. Two Ecclesiological Models for Realizing the Reconciliation with God in the World Ecclesiological models of the Church relate theologically the divine and human dimensions of the faith as well as the faith’s individual and community dimensions. These models give an account of how God’s saving (including reconciling) activity gets translated into the life of the Christian community, also in its relation to the world. Ecclesiological models could 27  Reimund Bieringer and David J. Bolton, eds., Reconciliation in Interfaith Perspective. Jewish, Christian and Muslim Voices (Leuven: Peeters, 2011); cf. my book review in Zeitschrift für katholische Theologie 135, no. 2–3 (2013): 372–74.

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therefore serve for relating those dimensions with respect to reconciliation. Wüstenberg suggests a consideration of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Christology-based ecclesiology for this project. In a first view, Bonhoeffer’s model is indeed compelling.28 A contrast with the sacramental model, however, reveals that a Christian interpretation of the many “horizontal” reconciliation efforts in their relation to the “vertical” dimension succeeds more easily within the sacramental model.  ietrich Bonhoeffer: A Christological Model D The German Protestant theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906–1945) proposes in his doctoral dissertation, Sanctorum Communio, from 1927 a Christological ecclesiology that is closely connected with the idea of reconciliation with God. In an interpretation of Paul’s nascent ecclesiology, Bonhoeffer develops the theory of “the church-community as a collective personality [Gesamtpersönlichkeit], which again can be called Christ. [However, …] a complete identification between Christ and the church-­ community cannot be made, since Christ has ascended into heaven and is now with God, and we still await Christ’s coming.”29 We have been reconciled by Christ and—as Church—we live reconciled in Christ, in whom all are one. Christ as mediator of this reconciliation represents the divine love as well as the humanity to be reconciled.30 The Church, therefore, is a community that experiences reconciliation with God not only as an already fulfilled reality but also as its continuing need: it is not only a communio sanctorum. Bonhoeffer states: “The reality of sin and the communio peccatorum remain even in God’s church-community; Adam has really been replaced by Christ only eschatologically.”31 In Bonhoeffer’s eschatology-sensitive ecclesiology, reconciliation is a gift for the community that remains still a project. Although he develops the vision of the Church directly from the person of Christ, he is able to take into account the Church in history. Reconciliation in the Church, however, is for him a top-down representation of the “vicarious representative action” of Christ, which is actualized in the history of the Church by 28  Similar approaches are discussed in my study in the chapters on the Body of Christ (Versöhnung und Kirche, 213–21) and on collective personality ecclesiologies (230–40). 29  Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio: A Theological Study of the Sociology of the Church, trans. by Reinhard Krauss and Nancy Lukens (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1998), 140. 30  Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 142 (citing Albrecht Ritschl). 31  Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 124 (italics added).

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the Holy Spirit.32 Bonhoeffer emphasizes that peace and unity in the Church do not grow from below. They are “not based on human unanimity of spirit, but on divine unity of Spirit.”33 Human attempts at reconciliation seem to have no place in this ecclesiology. The only human activity in this concept is repentance for sins in order to return to the already granted reconciliation with God. With this, Bonhoeffer’s theory remains in the vertical and individual perspective. Social projects of reconciliation among ourselves do not enter into this view. Since in his vision of a reconciled Church “there is not even a plurality anymore,”34 any human reconciliation on the basis of a non-exclusive diversity would be difficult to imagine.  he Second Vatican Council: A Sacramental Model T Like Bonhoeffer, the Second Vatican Council’s Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, Lumen gentium,35 from 1964 develops the idea of the Church from the incarnate Word. The ecclesiological metaphor “Body of Christ” plays an important role in the first chapter of the Constitution.36 Lumen gentium, however, considers right from the beginning also the horizontal aspect of reconciliation (in terms of “union/unity”) and extends it far beyond the Church: “the Church is in Christ like a sacrament or as a sign and instrument both of a very closely knit union with God and of the unity of the whole human race.”37 After various controversies, the members of the Council accepted the new concept of sacrament for the Church.38 This  Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 146–58; the theory summarized: 190–91.  Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 198 (the original in italics). 34  Bonhoeffer, Sanctorum Communio, 199. 35  English translation available on the Vatican website: http://www.vatican.va/archive/ hist_councils/ii_vatican_council/documents/vat-ii_const_19641121_lumen-gentium_ en.html (November 8, 2017). 36  LG 1–8, in particular LG 7–8. 37  LG 1. Another formulation that shows the strong relation of the Church as sacrament with the idea of reconciliation (in terms of “unity and peace”) can be found in LG 9: “God gathered together as one all those who in faith look upon Jesus as the author of salvation and the source of unity and peace, and established them as the Church that for each and all it may be the visible sacrament of this saving unity.” 38  Cf. Dennis M. Doyle, “Otto Semmelroth and the Advance of the Church as Sacrament at Vatican II,” Theological Studies 76 (2015): 65–86, at 67–70, https://doi. org/10.1177/0040563914565542; Günther Wassilowsky, Universales Heilssakrament Kirche. Karl Rahners Beitrag zur Ekklesiologie des II.  Vatikanums (Innsbruck: Tyrolia, 2001), 390–97. 32 33

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is not another image of the Church but rather a basic principle that helps to understand theologically the biblical and patristic images (LG 6). The Constitution uses a “no weak analogy” with the incarnate Word for explaining how the immanent and the transcendent dimensions in the Church are related to each other: “As the assumed nature inseparably united to Him serves the divine Word as a living organ of salvation, so, in a similar way, does the visible social structure of the Church serve the Spirit of Christ, who vivifies it, in the building up of the body” (LG 8). Horizontal, human reconciliation could therefore likewise be seen as a “sign” for God’s gift of reconciliation and as an “instrument” that helps building the Body of Christ. But the Church will only be accepted as such a sign and instrument if it acknowledges its own need of reconciliation. The Council describes the human ecclesial reality in its humility, as a pilgrim Church: “at the same time holy and always in need of being purified, [it] always follows the way of penance and renewal” (LG 8). For the theologians Otto Semmelroth, Karl Rahner, Marie-Dominique Chenu, and Yves Congar, who developed this ecclesiology before and during the Council, it was important to emphasize the constitutive, active role of the whole People of God in this way of the Church toward a greater unity in the world that let the peace with God become present. Their work was inspired by different types of personalism that intended to conceptually integrate the human experience and/or history into the Church.39 All of these “horizontal” points are much more present is in the sacramental model than in Bonhoeffer’s Christological ecclesiology, and at the same time essential for accepting reconciliation work “on the ground” for interpreting it symbolically as expression and presence of God’s gift of reconciliation. Nevertheless, applying the idea of sacramentality to the Church remains debated in Catholic theology, as Doyle mentions. Some post-conciliar magisterial statements tried to sideline the sacramental model with more traditional images like the Body of Christ or the communio model.40 Such attempts, however, do not take into account the functional difference mentioned before: the sacrament concept does not serve as a substitute for other images or models. Properly understood, the sacrament concept is not in competition but rather offers a framework within which the contributions as well as the limitations of the various concepts and images can be  Doyle, “Otto Semmelroth,” 73.  Doyle, “Otto Semmelroth,” 82–85.

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better understood. Hopefully, showing that the sacramental model is important for symbolically relating soteriology with human reconciliatory activity will lend additional support for the wider acceptance of this critically needed ecclesiological approach.

PART III

The Way Forward

CHAPTER 13

The Freedom of a Christian: Memory and Reconciliation Leo D. Lefebure

Are memories a blessing or a curse, a treasure-house of tradition, an unending source of conflict, or a resource for reconciliation? On the one hand, memories can be a trap. Memories can shape our identities by telling us not only who we are but who our enemies are, what wrongs they have inflicted upon us, how much we have suffered, and above all how much others deserve to be punished for our suffering. As long as we remain trapped in a cycle of rehearsing unreconciled hurts, we constantly recreate our identities as victims, view others as enemies, claim a privileged perspective, and freeze ourselves in unhelpful patterns. Protestants and Catholics have a long, bitter history of recalling their wounds, criticizing, and even demonizing each other. In traditional polemical historiography, each side believed it was fighting for the truth of the Gospel and God’s will for the Christian community; each side often recalled its own sufferings while quietly passing over the wrongs it had inflicted on others. Given

L. D. Lefebure (*) Georgetown University, Washington, DC, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 G. Mannion et al. (eds.), Ecumenical Perspectives Five Hundred Years After Luther’s Reformation, Pathways for Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-68360-3_13

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this perspective, each side could view those on the other side of the conflict as allies of the Anti-Christ. Much of traditional theology and church history involved research undertaken in a spirit of polemical opposition. From the sixteenth century to the present, unreconciled memories have too often embittered Catholic-Protestant relations. One strategy for moving beyond this impasse is to realign memories in light of problems that challenge all parties to the conflict and that call for cooperation for effective action. In this light, we can seek common values that are of greater significance than our differences. In healing relationships, it may be helpful to place memories in new contexts and view relationships so that those who differ from us may appear not as enemies but as previously unnoticed allies in a common struggle. In this essay I would like to interweave selected memories of protest from the early sixteenth century with later memories in North America. While these memories were quite different in their original contexts, they continue to make claims on us today and have particular significance for those of us at Georgetown University. One of the most important biblical passages for Martin Luther was Paul’s exhortation to the Galatians: “For freedom Christ has set us free. Stand firm, therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery” (Gal 5:1).1 But what constitutes slavery, and what does freedom look like? Contemporary exegetes are careful to situate Paul’s admonition in the context of his debate with Jewish-Christian adversaries over whether Gentiles needed to follow the Mosaic Torah in order to become followers of Jesus;2 but Paul’s pointed words transcend their original context and challenge every later generation of Christians to reflect anew. We may think we know what freedom and slavery mean, but all too often we are blind to the violations of freedom that structure our world. Every so often something happens to radically challenge our assumptions and prod us to think in new ways. We may come to see that we are not as free as we would like to think, and that some forms of slavery can be quite subtle indeed. Sometimes it is only by surrendering our illusions that we learn a new meaning of freedom. While disillusionment can shatter our worldview, it can also open up new horizons. But even in a new horizon, blind spots can remain.

1  Unless otherwise noted, all quotations will be from The New Oxford Annotated Bible, Augmented Third Edition with the Apocryphal/Deuterocanonical Books, edited by Michael D. Coogan et al; New Revised Standard Version (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007). 2  For example, Frank J. Matera, Galatians, Sacra Pagina Series vol. 9 (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2007).

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A Tale of Three Friars In the second decade of the sixteenth century, friars on opposite sides of the Atlantic Ocean came to see freedom and slavery in new ways; each came to see how greed was poisoning the practice of Christian life and vigorously challenged the accepted practices of his society. While these friars would find themselves on different sides of the dividing line of the Protestant Reformation, their protests echoed far beyond their original audiences and continue to challenge us today. Traditionally, historians have told the story of the Protestant Reformation happening in Europe and have separated this narrative from events involving Spanish Catholics in the Caribbean. I would like to weave together the narratives of Martin Luther, Antonio Montesino, and Bartolomé de Las Casas from the perspective of freedom and slavery. The life of Martin Luther has been exhaustively studied, and I will note only certain aspects of his trajectory.3 Luther’s mature understanding of freedom came after a bitter disillusionment with much of the practice of Roman Catholicism. His disillusionment was likely shaped by his visit to Rome in January 1511, when he accompanied another Augustinian friar to present an appeal to the general of the Augustinian order. While we do not know exactly what Luther thought of Rome at that time, he later recalled that he had come to Rome “so that I saw the head of all wickedness and the seat of the Devil.”4 At the time, an insatiable drive for money and power was corrupting much of the upper leadership of the Roman Catholic Church, as manifested in the sale of indulgences, but reaching far beyond. In the years that followed, Luther would go through a process of critical discernment concerning all aspects of Catholic life and thought. During this same period on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, Dominican friar Antonio Montesino was going through a process of discernment and disillusionment that led to his realization of the horrible abuses of the encomienda system. In sharp contrast to our exhaustive knowledge of the life of Luther, we know very little of the details of the life and death of Antonio Montesino, who is also known variously as 3  Lyndal Roper, Martin Luther: Renegade and Prophet (New York: Random House, 2017); Heiko A. Oberman, Luther: Man between God and the Devil, translated by Eileen WalliserSchwarzbart (New York: Image Books, 1992); Scott H. Hendrix, Martin Luther: Visionary Reformer (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2015). 4  Luther, WT 5, 5344, 75:2; summer 1540; cited by Lyndal Roper, Martin Luther: Renegade and Prophet (New York: Random House, 2017), 48.

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Antonio de Montesino or Antonio de Montesinos; nonetheless, the importance of his legacy is increasingly being recognized.5 He was born in Spain sometime before 1486, entered the Dominican order in Salamanca, Spain, on July 1, 1502, and arrived in the island of Hispaniola (the island of present-day Haiti and the Dominican Republic) before April 1510, where he became familiar with the workings of the encomienda system.6 The holder of an encomienda, who was known as an encomendero, received a grant from the Spanish monarch to monopolize the labor of the indigenous people under his control (“encomendar” in Spanish means “to entrust”). Because Queen Isabella of Castile had prohibited the enslavement of Indians, the subjects were technically free vassals of the Spanish crown, but in practice they were treated as slaves. In principle, the encomienda system was supposed to offer paternal care for the Indians so that they could be evangelized, and some Spaniards portrayed this system as a benign, paternalistic way to care for the indigenous peoples who allegedly needed guidance. In theory, one could imagine a kindly Spanish overseer who cared about the well-being of his ignorant dependents and guided them to the true faith. However, Montesino and his Dominican confreres came to see that in practice, the encomienda system was a brutal form of oppression, virtually the same as slavery. The encomenderos worked the Indians without mercy, whipping them, killing some as a deliberate tactic of terror to keep others in line, and often violating the women. Montesino and his confreres in the Dominican community condemned the encomiendas as a brutal form of oppression and as completely contrary to the will of God. Because Montesino was known for his eloquence, Pedro de Cordoba, the leader of the Dominican community in Hispaniola, delegated him to deliver a sermon on behalf of all the Dominicans rebuking this system. And so on the last Sunday of Advent in 1511, ten months after Luther’s visit to Rome, Montesino preached a fiery sermon in which he fiercely denounced what Spanish Catholics were doing to the indigenous peoples of the Caribbean and threatened his congregation with eternal damnation: 5  Montesinos’ Legacy: Defining and Defending Human Rights for Five Hundred Years: Proceedings of the Universal Human Rights 500th Anniversary of Antonio de Montesinos Conference, edited by Dana E. Aspinall, Edward C. Lorenz, and J. Michael Raley (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2014). 6  A.B. Nieser, “Antonio Montesino,” New Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. 9 (2nd ed.; Detroit: Gale Virtual Reference Library, 2003), 835.

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Tell me, by what right or justice do you keep these Indians in such cruel and horrible servitude? … Why do you keep them so oppressed and weary, not giving them enough to eat, nor taking care of them in their illnesses? For with the excessive work you demand of them, they fall ill and die, or rather you kill them with your desire to extract and acquire gold every day…. Are these not men? Have they not rational souls? Are you not bound to love them as you love yourselves? Be certain that in such a state as this, you can no more be saved than the Moors or Turks.7

The local Spanish authorities were deeply offended and protested vigorously, but Pedro de Cordoba stood firm in supporting Montesino. Word of the protest reached Spain, where Queen Isabella had died in 1504 and King Ferdinand was ruling alone (as regent for his daughter Juana la Loca who technically succeeded her mother but was deemed incompetent to rule). Concerned about justice in the Americas, Ferdinand approved the Laws of Burgos in 1512, which sought to mitigate the effects of the conquest but had only limited effect in practice. In 1516 Montesino continued his efforts by writing a work defending the Indians from the accusations made by defenders of the encomienda system, Informatio juridical in indorum defensionem. It is not clear whether Bartolomé de las Casas was in the congregation when Montesino preached his famous sermon in 1511, but, in any event, he soon learned of it. Las Casas commented wryly that many present that day were shocked but none converted. However, Las Casas himself began a process of discernment that would lead to his own conversion to the cause of defending the Amerindians. Las Casas had been born in Seville in about 1484 or 1485, probably not long after Martin Luther’s birth and possibly around the same time as Montesino’s. When Bartolomé was about eight years old, Columbus sailed across the Atlantic and returned to Seville on Palm Sunday, March 31, 1493, with eight or ten Taino Indians, who were dressed in traditional array with feathers and fishbone ornaments. The young Bartolomé may well have seen the Indians in the procession through Seville. One of his uncles was already involved with Columbus, and his father sailed with Columbus on the next voyage, leaving in 1493 and returning to Seville in 1498 or 1499. On this return voyage the Spanish brought 300 enslaved Taino Indians back with them, and 7  Cited by Neill, 145; see also Gustavo Gutiérrez, Las Casas: In Search of the Poor of Jesus Christ, translated by Robert R. Barr (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1993), 28–31.

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Las Casas’s father gave him one, Juanico, as his personal slave. He became friends with Juanico. However, Queen Isabel was furious at Columbus for enslaving persons whom she saw as her vassals,8 and Juanico was sent back to Santo Domingo in 1500 as part of a fleet led by Francisco de Bobadilla, who was ordered to investigate the charges of mismanagement and corruption against Columbus. Two years later, in 1502, Las Casas went with his father to Hispaniola, where they profited from the conquest and the labor of enslaved persons. So from the time he was young, Las Casas was involved in the exploitation of the Indians and was aware of efforts to stop it. When Las Casas was young, there were a number of Spanish leaders who believed the Catholic Church needed to be reformed. One of the most influential was the Cardinal Francisco Jimenez de Cisneros (1436–1517), who was from the minor nobility and became a Franciscan of the strictest observance by living an ascetic life. He had wanted to be a simple friar, but Queen Isabel called him to be her personal confessor in 1492; he did not want this position, but he had to accept. In 1495, she appointed him archbishop of Toledo and primate of Spain, again against his wishes. In 1508 Jimenez de Cisneros founded the University of Alcalá de Henares and tried to induce Erasmus to come and accept a position there, but Erasmus declined. Like Martin Luther, both Erasmus and Jimenez de Cisneros were very interested in the text of the Bible in the original languages. Jimenez de Cisneros sponsored the preparation of a new polyglot edition of the Bible; the New Testament was ready in 1514, two years before Erasmus’s edition came out, but the six-volume work of both testaments in Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, was published only in 1517, a year after Erasmus. Jimenez de Cisneros was a leader in reforming the Catholic Church in the sense of living a true gospel life, in the sense of bringing the best scholarship available to the study of scripture, and he would play an important role regarding the Indians. After Las Casas became aware of the preaching of Montesino, he began to go through a discernment culminating in a conversion that led him to become a fierce critic of the atrocities being committed upon the indigenous peoples. He was ordained a diocesan priest, probably in 1510, and may have been the first person to be ordained a Catholic priest in the Americas. In 1513, he participated in the conquest of Cuba, where he was 8  Lawrence A.  Clayton, Bartolomé de las Casas: A Biography (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 21.

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horrified by the Spanish atrocities against the Indians. He wrote a description of Cuba, which Erasmus saw, and this may have been a source for Thomas More’s description of the island in Utopia.9 As Las Casas pondered the situation, he was much influenced by the Dominicans, and by 1514 he had decided cast his lot with them, refusing to give absolution to the encomenderos because of the immorality of the encomienda system. In 1515 he returned to Spain in hopes of influencing King Ferdinand, but the king was in ill health. Ferdinand died in January 1516, and his and Isabella’s grandson Charles, born in 1500, became King Charles I of Spain. Because Charles’s mother, Juana la Loca, was viewed as mentally incompetent, Charles became king of Spain quite young. He was the first ruler to be monarch of all of Spain in his own right. Throughout this period, Las Casas was lobbying for the Indians; in 1516, he sent a report to Jimenez de Cisneros, one of the most powerful men in the kingdom of Spain. Jimenez de Cisneros agreed that things needed to change and gave Las Casas the title “Protector of the Indians,” an administrative office in the Spanish government with the responsibility of advocating for the Indians before the Crown. In the following year, 1517, Martin Luther protested in a very different setting against the way the drive for money was corrupting the life of the Catholic Church; in response he forcefully challenged the sale of indulgences, sending his famous 95 Theses to Albrecht of Brandenburg, the Archbishop of Mainz.10 Of the Theses, I have always been particularly impressed by the question of the laity expressed in Thesis #82: if the Pope really can free all souls from the suffering of Purgatory, why doesn’t he simply do it out of love without charging money? I am not aware that any of the Catholic apologists ever offered a satisfactory response. From this point on, Montesino, Las Casas, and Luther were all publicly denouncing abuses and proclaiming paths of reform in the face of stiff opposition. In 1519, King Charles I of Spain was elected Holy Roman Emperor, becoming Emperor Charles V, one of the most powerful men in the world at the age of 19. As a young emperor, he would hear both Las Casas and Luther. On December 12, 1519, just months after Charles had assumed the imperial throne, Las Casas was able to speak in an audience before him. In attendance was Adrian of Utrecht, who would later serve as regent  Clayton, Las Casas, 99.  Martin E. Marty, October 31, 1517: Martin Luther and the Day that Changed the World (Brewster, MA: Paraclete Press, 2016). 9

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of Spain when Charles traveled, and who would become Pope Adrian VI in January 1522. Also present was a Franciscan friar who had been in the New World, Cristóbal del Río. He met Las Casas before the audience and told him he would help him any way he could. Bishop Juan de Quevedo, a Franciscan bishop in Panama, spoke first, and he gave a benign interpretation of what the Spanish were doing in the New World, describing the Indians as “born to serve.”11 Las Casas spoke for 45 minutes, powerfully denouncing the atrocities that Spanish were committing against the Indians and demanding reform. Then Diego Columbus, the son of Christopher, spoke in agreement with Las Casas: “The evils and damage done, and being done, in the Indies described by these fathers is true. And these clerics and brothers, not being able to suffer it, have certainly reprimanded it…. Your Majesty is harmed inestimably by the destruction of those people and lands.”12 Later, Bishop Quevedo asked permission to speak a second time, but he was directed to put his comments in writing instead. Quevedo wrote two memorials or opinions, admitting that Las Casas was right and confessing that he himself had witnessed atrocities, completely vindicating Las Casas. It seems that Quevedo may have lost the will to live. He came down with a fever and died on Christmas Eve, 1519, just 12 days after the audience. Charles V and Adrian of Utrecht were persuaded. Charles would listen to Las Casas for the rest of his reign, which lasted until 1555, when he resigned. It is tragic that these powerful leaders were not able to have more practical effect in the Americas. When Las Casas returned to the Caribbean armed with imperial decrees to aid the Indians, the answer in practice was often, “Obedezsco pero no cumplo” (“I obey but I do not comply”).13 The atrocities continued. In 1520, Martin Luther reflected on the meaning of freedom and slavery with unsurpassed power in his programmatic essay, On the Freedom of a Christian, which Walter Cardinal Kasper has called “the most agreeable of his major Reformation treatises.”14 Prefaced by Luther’s moving letter to Pope Leo X, this essay represented Luther’s final effort to reach out to the Pope for reconciliation. Luther powerfully explores the paradox that a  Quoted by Clayton, Las Casas, 176.  Quoted by Clayton, Las Casas, 181. 13  Clayton, Las Casas, 192. 14  Walter Kasper, Martin Luther: An Ecumenical Perspective, translated by William Madges (New York: Paulist Press, 2016), 35. 11 12

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Christian is “a perfectly free lord of all, subject to none,” and yet also “a completely dutiful servant of all, subject to all.”15 Luther teaches us that Christian faith brings freedom in the form of forgiveness for our sins and a call to serve others. Precisely because Christians receive the grace of justification as a free gift from God apart from any human merit, we are freed from preoccupation with ourselves so that we may love and serve our neighbors. Recently, in a lecture for Reformation Day with an ecumenical intent, Jürgen Moltmann reflected on the significance of Luther’s essay for perpetrators and victims of sin both past and present. Moltmann juxtaposes Luther’s proclamation of “The Freedom of a Christian” with the inscription on the grave of Martin Luther King, Jr.: “Free at last. At last free!”16 Moltmann praises Luther’s proclamation of Christian liberty “which frees the heart from sins, laws and commandments, and which surpasses all other liberty as the heaven surpasses the earth.”17 Then Moltmann goes on to ponder what this means for victims of sin: “After the justification of sinners, we need a justification of the victims, for God does not only put the sinners right; he first of all creates justice for those who suffer violence, as the Psalms in the Old Testament tell us.”18 Here Moltmann believes Luther did not go far enough, and he daringly charges that, regarding the victims, there “is a great gap in Christianity’s doctrine of grace, from Paul to Luther.”19 Moltmann develops the resources of Luther’s thought for going beyond the Reformer’s explicit writings. Emphasizing that in Luther’s theology, Christ takes on the pain of the suffering person, Moltmann proposes: “Only the truth can make victims free. The victims of injustice and violence must emerge not just from the suffering that has been inflicted on them, but from their humiliation as well.”20 Moltmann stresses the victims’ need for “recognition of their personal dignity, and recognition of the injustice under which they

15  Martin Luther, “The Freedom of a Christian,” in Martin Luther, The Roots of Reform, The Annotated Luther, vol. 1, edited by Timothy J.  Wengert (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress Press, 2015), 488. 16  Jürgen Moltmann, “Sun of Righteousness, Arise! The Freedom of a Christian—Then and Now—for the Perpetrators and for the Victims of Sin,” Theology Today 69/1 (2012): 7. 17  Moltmann. “Sun of Righteousness,” 8. 18  Moltmann, “Sun of Righteousness,” 8. 19  Moltmann, “Sun of Righteousness,” 13. 20  Moltmann, “Sun of Righteousness,” 15.

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suffer.”21 Moltmann closes with the hope for movement beyond the quest for vengeance, the hope “that the sun of God’s righteousness and justice will rise above the bloody history of human beings and of this sorely tried earth.”22 Moltmann finds a powerful expression of hope for the liberation of victims in Martin Luther King, Jr.’s famous 1963 speech proclaiming the dream of reconciliation. Also seeking reconciliation, Walter Kasper stresses the mystical dimension of Luther’s thought on “The Freedom of a Christian,” especially its potential for healing: “For unity and reconciliation occur not only in the head, but first of all in the heart, one’s personal piety, everyday life, and human encounter.”23 Kasper comments that Luther’s most important contribution to us today lies “in his original starting point with the gospel of grace and the mercy of God and the call to conversion.”24 In 1521 Martin Luther stood before Emperor Charles V and famously professed his bondage to the Word of God: “I am bound by the Scriptures I have quoted and my conscience is a captive to the Word of the God. I cannot and will not retract anything, since it is neither safe nor right to go against conscience.”25 Although Luther failed to convince the Emperor or the Catholic representatives present, his courageous proclamation of the freedom of the Christian and of loyalty to the Scriptures inspired generations of Protestant Christians, including those who came to North America. In addition to his theological writings, Martin Luther was an eloquent preacher and a composer of moving hymns. Many people who could not read or write learned Luther’s interpretation of the gospel through his preaching and through singing Lutheran hymns. As the Protestant Reformation developed in Europe, Luther denounced the abuses in the Catholic Church, and Las Casas continued to fiercely criticize the encomienda system, which brutalized Indians. He wrote a long multivolume history of the Indies, and he also wrote A Short Account of the Destruction of the Indies, which recounted the atrocities of the Spanish, was translated into many other European languages (including Dutch, French, English, and German), and became the basis for the so-­ called Black Legend, the traditionally negative view held by the English  Moltmann, “Sun of Righteousness,” 15–16.  Moltmann, “Sun of Righteousness,” 16. 23  Kasper, Luther, 35. 24  Kasper, Luther, 39. 25  Quoted by Lyndal Roper, Martin Luther: Renegade and Prophet (New York: Random House, 2017), 172. 21 22

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and Protestants in general toward the Spanish. Las Casas’s passionate concern for American Indians and criticism of Spanish atrocities would provide rich material for later anti-Catholicism in Great Britain and beyond. Las Casas had definite flaws, but he continued to learn and develop his thinking about the victims of oppression. One of the most controversial aspects of his career is that for a time Las Casas tragically approved of importing enslaved Africans to the Americas to replace Indians as workers in the mines and elsewhere. Lawrence A.  Clayton comments that “Las Casas was thinking of African slavery as he knew it from his childhood, growing up in Seville and its environs. It was not the degrading form of plantation slavery later developed by European planters in other parts of the Americas.”26 Clayton notes that Las Casas later turned sharply against slavery, “long before the morality of the slave trade—and African slavery in the Americas itself—was challenged by abolitionists almost two hundred years later.”27 Gustavo Gutiérrez notes that in about 1547 Las Casas read reports about the actual conditions of enslaving persons in Africa, and this turned his attitude sharply against the slave trade, leading him to become the first leader of his time to denounce slavery: “What Las Casas perceives around the middle of the sixteenth century is that the injustice committed against the Africans is of the same nature as that suffered by the Indians. There is no justification for enslaving these peoples.”28 By 1550, Las Casas had become the prototype of the abolitionist. Moreover, Las Casas’s advocacy for the Indians also had flaws and limits. Luis Rivera notes that even though Las Casas sharply criticized the abuse of the American Indians, he did not advocate for full independence for them but, rather, for a more benevolent but still paternalistic care: “The relationship of these free peoples with the Crown should be similar to that of the free cities of Europe and Spain, which recognize the emperor as their ultimate sovereign, without such an authority canceling their autonomy and powers for self-determination.”29 Despite his tragic flaws and limitations, the example of Las Casas stands as a protest against the horrors inflicted on the Indian populations; Gustavo Gutiérrez presents Las Casas as a Christian “in search of the poor of Jesus Christ.”30 26  Lawrence A. Clayton, Bartolomé de las Casas and the Conquest of the Americas (Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2011), 138. 27  Clayton, Las Casas and the Conquest, 138. 28  Gutiérrez, Las Casas, 329. 29  Pagan, Violent Evangelism, 65. 30  Gutiérrez, Las Casas.

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Montesino and Las Casas on the one hand and Luther on the other were probably not aware of each other at the beginning of their efforts at reform. Later, Las Casas became aware of Luther, and the concerns of the two figures overlapped in some respects. Las Casas shared Luther’s concern that all people be able to read the Bible in their own language so they could hear and accept its liberating message. Lawrence A.  Clayton comments: “Even among the growing rifts within the Christian community, both Las Casas and Luther were together in at least one important element: if all men were equal before God, then each could be the recipient of the full grace of God, no matter where they stood in the natural order.”31 While Las Casas remained a loyal Roman Catholic priest, his concern for the Indians shaped another similarity to Luther’s program, as Clayton explains: “While Luther championed the ‘priesthood of all believers,’ which struck at the formal priesthood of the church, his doctrine actually brought him close to Las Casas. For, if Amerindians were fully capable of hearing and acting upon the truth of Scripture, then Las Casas and Luther shared a common platform.”32 Reconciliation was usually difficult or impossible to find in the conflicts of the sixteenth century, but the legacies of these friars would live on in different settings challenging later generations to seek freedom and reconciliation. While their stories have usually been separated in traditional historiography, the concerns of all three friars flow together in shaping our contemporary awareness. Moreover, in what may seem a most improbable turn of history, their concerns would find incomparable expression among people in North America who may never have even heard of these reformers but who knew first-hand the meaning of slavery.

African American Interpretations Jesus thanked his Heavenly Father for revealing to the simple what had been concealed from the learned and the clever (Mt 11:25). In North America, enslaved African Americans with little or no formal education often understood the freedom proclaimed in Paul’s Letter to the Galatians with a force their better educated masters could not imagine. While most enslaved African Americans could not read the sixteenth-century friars, they heard powerful Protestant preaching about sin and grace from the  Clayton, Las Casas, 236.  Clayton, Las Casas, 236–37.

31 32

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time of the Great Awakening in the 1730s, and the enslaved intuitively understood the protests of Montesino and Las Casas against inhumane treatment of unfree workers. In one of the most remarkable hermeneutical developments in all of Christian history, enslaved African Americans made a sharp distinction between the freedom brought by authentic Christian faith and what was being promoted by the dominant, racist European American leaders of the established churches of the time, both Protestant and Catholic. The strong Protestant tradition of singing hymns lived on in North America and powerfully influenced African American Christians. Enslaved African Americans expressed a lively grasp of Christian faith in the spirituals, singing of biblical images such as the freeing of the slaves in the Exodus or the crossing of the River Jordan as images of liberation from slavery in America. Often the spirituals sang of an apparent meaning that the slaveholder would perceive while also expressing a hidden meaning that the enslaved could hear. The spirituals powerfully celebrated the confidence that God was with them even in the worst sufferings. James Cone points out that the greatest danger to enslaved African Americans was the destruction of their community. In the spirituals they faced this danger and expressed solidarity, even in seemingly impossible situations: “They attended to the present realities of despair and loneliness that disrupted the community of faith…. Thus it is the loss of community that constitutes the major burden. Suffering is not too much to bear, if there are brothers and sisters to go down in the valley to pray with you.”33 Cone adds: “The actual physical brutalities of slavery were minor in comparison to the loss of the community. That was why most of the slave songs focused on ‘going home.’ Home was an affirmation of the need for community.”34 The spirituals reinterpreted the Bible from the perspective of those enslaved, trusting that God in some way shared in their suffering, affirmed their human dignity, and willed their liberation: “The theological assumption of black slave religion as expressed in the spirituals was that slavery contradicts God, and God will therefore liberate black people. All else was secondary and complemented that basic perspective.”35

33  James Cone, The Spirituals and the Blues: An Interpretation (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1999), 58. 34  Cone, Spirituals, 59. 35  Cone, Spirituals, 65.

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Catholic-Protestant Relations and the Black Church in North America European American Protestants and Catholics often imported the animosities of the Reformation-era conflicts to North America and harbored bitter hostility toward each other. Memories of violent events in Europe served to reinforce grudges and construct identities through oppositional bonding. As a result, the history of relations among European American Protestants and Catholics was traditionally marked by bitter animosity and bias.36 Protestants in colonial North America knew that Catholics were dangerous terrorists because the Catholic conspirator Guy Fawkes had attempted to blow up the House of Lords in London in 1605 as part of a plot to assassinate King James I and put a Catholic on the throne. For many years American Protestants held parades celebrating Guy Fawkes Day, which culminated in hanging the Pope and the Devil together in effigy. The mid-eighteenth-century conflict with French Catholics during the French and Indian War called forth bitter antiCatholic sentiments and contributed to the construction of a strongly Protestant American patriotism. Reflecting this bitter atmosphere, historian Robert Emmett Curran entitled his account of Catholics in colonial British America: Papist Devils.37 Even though generations of European American Protestants and Catholics found it impossible to heed Jesus’s call to reconciliation, a new type of ecumenical community emerged from African American Christian experience: the reality of the Black Church. This is not one more denomination alongside of others. It is not a membership organization. It transcends the divisions of Catholic and Protestant, bringing all black Christians together. The Black Catholic bishops of the United States described this experience in their pastoral letter, What We Have Seen and Heard: “There exists a reality which is called ‘The Black Church.’ It crosses denominational boundaries and is without a formal structure. Yet it is a reality cherished by many Black Christians, who feel at ease joining in prayer and in

36  Mark S. Massa, Anti-Catholicism in America: The Last Acceptable Prejudice (New York: Crossroad Publishing Co., 2003). 37   Robert Emmett Curran, Papist Devils: Catholics in British America 1574–1783 (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 2014).

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Christian action with one another. This Black Church is a result of our common experience and history.”38 In a similar vein, the distinguished Protestant womanist theologian Delores Williams describes the non-institutional reality of the Black Church: “The black church does not exist as an institution…. I believe the black church is the heart of hope in the black community’s experience of oppression, survival struggle and its historic efforts toward complete liberation.”39 She explains: “The black church is invisible, but we know it when we see it … when we see oppressed people rising up in freedom…. It is invisible, but we know when we see, hear and feel it quickening the heart, measuring the soul and bathing life with the spirit in time.”40 One of the paradoxes of the history of Christianity in the United States is that the ecumenical Christian community that European American Christians historically were not able to achieve came into being spontaneously among the enslaved and their descendants. For African Americans, the need to face the common challenges of enslavement, Jim Crow laws, lynching, humiliation, and discrimination made doctrinal and denominational differences less important than the liberating message of the gospel of Jesus Christ. In often impossible situations, images of hope drew African Americans from different Christian communions into a common bond where they knew that “God makes a way out of no way.”

Georgetown University Traditionally, many white Americans thought that freedom was established and slavery ended through the Civil War or at least through the Civil Rights Movement in the mid-twentieth century. However, despite the real gains of the Civil Rights Movement, Christians in the United States today are going through a difficult period of reflection on the continuing heritage of our history of freedom and slavery, and many of us are learning new lessons about the ongoing ramifications of this bitter legacy for life today. Because of the racially motivated attacks of recent years, many who thought that freedom had been achieved have had to acknowledge that 38  ‘What We Have Seen and Heard’: A Pastoral Letter on Evangelization from the Black Bishops of the United States (St. Anthony Messenger Press, 1984), 15. 39  Delores S.  Williams, Sisters in the Wilderness: The Challenge of Womanist God-Talk (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2001), 204, 205. 40  Williams, Sisters, 205.

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age-old racial tensions have not been fully resolved. Ta-Nehisi Coates articulated the frustrations and concerns of African Americans in a way that resonated throughout much of American society.41 This challenge has a particular importance for us at Georgetown University. Traditionally, we liked to think that Georgetown University had always upheld the ideals of freedom and equality. We date our founding to 1789 in the wake of the American Revolution, and President James Madison signed our federal charter on March 1, 1815. Many presidents from George Washington, Andrew Jackson, and Abraham Lincoln to Gerald Ford, Bill Clinton, and Barack Obama have come to visit our campus. We pride ourselves on being both an American university and a Catholic university. Our students fought on both sides of the American Civil War, and our school colors, Blue and Gray, which were the colors of the opposing armies during this conflict, symbolize the reconciliation of the North and the South in the Georgetown community. But the school colors harbor a terrible irony: while reconciling whites from North and South, the Georgetown community did not adequately come to terms with our history of owning and selling enslaved persons. We were collectively blind to our historic involvement in slavery. Memory is selective. Long before Georgetown College was opened in 1789, the institutions of the Society of Jesus in North America had been supported by plantations held in trust by lay friends of the Society. During the seventeenth century indentured servants labored on the Jesuit plantations, but during the eighteenth century these were replaced by enslaved laborers. In the summer of 2016, The Working Group on Slavery, Memory, and Reconciliation of Georgetown University reported to the President of Georgetown University: “Beginning with deliberations in the 1780s over the founding of an academy and until the end of the Civil War, Georgetown University’s origins and growth, and successes and failures, can be linked to America’s slave-holding economy and culture.”42 The Working Group noted other sources of funding beyond the plantations: “Bequests and other charitable gifts were also a significant part of the funding model in an era when Jesuits were prohibited from charging tuition to their students.

 Ta-Nehisi Coates, Between the World and Me (New York: Spiegel & Grau, 2015).  Report of the Working Group on Slavery, Memory, and Reconciliation to the President of Georgetown University (Washington, DC: Georgetown University, 2016), 12. 41 42

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Given a regional economy that was largely agricultural, this benefaction can also be in large part linked to the U.S. slave economy.”43 From the long-standing practice of supporting Georgetown through enslaved labor, one particular incident stands out as egregiously cruel. In the early nineteenth century, the financial situation of Georgetown became more and more precarious, culminating in a major dilemma during the national stock market and banking crisis of 1837 and 1838. In 1838, when faced with unpayable debts during a severe national economic crisis, the Jesuit leaders of Georgetown College and the Maryland Province of the Society of Jesus, Thomas Mulledy, S.J., and William McSherry, S.J., made the fateful decision to sell 272 enslaved African Americans to slave-­ owners in the deep South, where conditions were much harsher, even life-threatening.44 Until recently, Georgetown had buildings named in honor of each of these Jesuits. Since 2015, the Georgetown community has engaged in historical research, has reached out to the descendants of the 272 persons, has apologized for the sale, and is establishing a new Center for African American Studies. In its report, issued in summer 2016, The Working Group on Slavery, Memory, and Reconciliation concluded: “Slavery—slave labor and the slave trade—is part of our history…. As a University community, we need to know, to acknowledge, and to absorb that history as part of what makes Georgetown what it is. We are, after all, slavery’s beneficiaries still today. There can be neither justice nor reconciliation until we grasp that truth.”45 On April 18, 2017, Georgetown University held a Liturgy of Remembrance, Contrition and Hope during which Timothy Kesicki, S.J., the president of the Jesuit Conference of Canada and the United States, expressed deep repentance for the sin of slaveholding to the descendants of those who were sold in 1838: “The Society of Jesus prays with you today because we have greatly sinned and because we are profoundly sorry…. It is our enslavement of another, the very ownership of another, culminating in the tragic sale of 272 men, women, and children, that remains with us to this day, trapping us in a historic truth for which we

 Report of the Working Group, 12.  Robert Emmett Curran, A History of Georgetown University, Volume I, From Academy to University, 1789–1889 (Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press, 2010), 128–29. 45  Report of the Working Group, 31. 43 44

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implore mercy and justice, hope and healing.”46 He offered an apology: “Because we are profoundly sorry, we stand before God—and now before you, the descendants of those whom we enslaved—and we apologize for what we have done and what we have failed to do.”47 He added: “Justly aggrieved sisters and brothers: Having acknowledged our sin and sorrow, having tendered an apology, we make bold to ask—on bended knee—forgiveness. Though we think it right and just to ask, we acknowledge that we have no right to it. Forgiveness is yours to bestow—only in your time and in your way.”48 Later that day Georgetown University held a dedication ceremony renaming two historic buildings that had been named for the slave-selling Jesuits; now one honors an enslaved African American man, Isaac Hawkins, who was sold in 1838 to pay Georgetown’s debts; the other building now honors Anne Marie Becraft, an African American woman who dedicated herself to educating African Americans in the Georgetown neighborhood in the early nineteenth century and who then joined a community of African American religious sisters recently established in Baltimore. Karran Harper Royal spoke on behalf of the GU272 Descendants Association representing the descendants of those who were sold in 1838. She praised the students of Georgetown University who had taken the initiative to protest the continued naming of buildings for the Jesuits involved in the 1838 sale, noting that “it was students from Georgetown that led Georgetown to recognize that more needed to be done than simply acknowledging their history with slavery. The actions of Georgetown students have placed all of us on a journey together toward honoring our enslaved ancestors, by working toward healing and reconciliation…. We thank the students of Georgetown today.”49 She praised the efforts of Georgetown University and the Society of Jesus to move forward in healing: “Moving forward with descendants perfectly positions Georgetown and the Maryland Jesuits to be a standard-bearer in recognizing and reconciling a stained legacy…. As a representative of the GU272 Descendants

46  Timothy Kesicki, “Homily at Liturgy of Remembrance, Contrition and Hope at Georgetown University,” Origins 47/4 (May 25, 2017): 61. 47  Kesicki, “Homily,” 61. 48  Kesicki, “Homily,” 61. 49  Karran Harper Royal, “Remarks at Ceremony Renaming Buildings at Georgetown University,” Origins 47/4 (May 25, 2017): 62–63.

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Association, we look forward to our journey together as members of the Georgetown family to reconcile this very painful past. Thank you.”50 During this dedication ceremony, I was seated next to my colleague Peter Phan near the descendant community. As the musicians played a lively piece to open the ceremony, we saw an African American woman from the descendant community dressed in a beautiful white dress and striking large white hat get up and dance around joyously. After the first musical number ended, people encouraged the musicians to play more, and they started up again. Once again the woman danced jubilantly. Peter Phan took a number of photos of her. Later, we saw this woman in the line for the outdoor luncheon, and Peter showed her the photos of her enthusiastic dancing. Memories can divide, but they can also heal. Amid a long history of suffering and enslavement and the indomitable struggle for freedom, this joyful dancing woman offers one image of what freedom looks like. This dancing woman, together with the descendants of those who were enslaved and sold and the repentant representatives of the Georgetown community, can give new meaning to Paul’s words: “It is for freedom that Christ has set us free.”

 Royal, “Remarks,” 63.

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CHAPTER 14

Together in Hope for the Ecumenical Future John Borelli

Scriptural Reflection “That they may all be one, as you, Father, are in me and I in you, that they may be one in us.” This is the passage from scripture to which most everyone turns, if not immediately, then eventually for the theme of Christian unity. It rests in John 17, the last supper discourse of Jesus and his hope-­ filled prayer for the unity of his followers. The opening and closing of this two-verse profound, yet anguished, expression of hope by Jesus before his suffering and death are particularly worthy of recalling for those laboring in ecumenical relations: “I pray not only for them, but also for those who will believe in me through their word, so that they may all be one, as you, Father, are in me and I in you, that they also may be in us, that the world may believe that you sent me” (20–21).1 1

 All scriptural passages are from the New American Bible (1986).

J. Borelli (*) Georgetown University, Washington, DC, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 G. Mannion et al. (eds.), Ecumenical Perspectives Five Hundred Years After Luther’s Reformation, Pathways for Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-68360-3_14

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To me the power of the prayer bursts forth first with Jesus’ reference to “those who will believe in me through their word,” when he speaks directly to all of us Christians who will come after the eyewitnesses of the mysteries of Jesus’ death and resurrection, for the centuries to come, alive today and seeking to restore unity. That earnest petition then flows into the bold and unpretentious reason for preserving that unity “so that the world may believe that you [the Father] have sent me [Christ, the Son].” Our present disunity thwarts the message of the gospel. Debilitating disunity among Christians, not to be confused with any authentic, enriching diversity, detracts from the integrity of their witness to the truth of the Gospel. During the year of common commemoration of the 500th anniversary of the Reformation, from October 31, 2016, to October 31, 2017, I was invited to emphasize ecumenical hope in my presentations, especially in the context of what Lutherans and Catholics have achieved after five decades of ecumenical dialogue.2 Pope Francis and Bishop Munib Younan, President of the Lutheran World Federation (LWF), identified hope among the centennial themes in their joint statement, signed in Lund, Sweden, on October 31, 2016. The papal visit to Sweden inaugurated a year of activities for shared commemoration of the Reformation of 1517. Together, they called upon “all Lutheran and Catholic parishes and communities to be bold and creative, joyful and hopeful in their commitment to continue the great journey ahead of us.”3 Later that day, at an ecumenical event in Malmö Arena, Pope Francis, after hearing several testimonies of the achievements of Lutheran-Catholic cooperation and dialogue, urged everyone not to lose hope despite how “everybody who knows you thinks that what you are doing is crazy”: Of course, it is the craziness of love for God and our neighbor. We need more of this craziness, illuminated by faith and confidence in God’s 2  Lutherans and Catholic: From Conflict to Communion and Together in Hope,” Southeastern Pennsylvania Lutheran Synod, Lansdale, Pennsylvania, October 21, 2017; Together in Hope: Hope and the Ecumenical Future, Lutheran-Catholic Day, St. Vincent Archabbey, Latrobe, Pennsylvania. 3   The joint statement is on the Vatican website: http://press.vatican.va/content/ salastampa/it/bollettino/pubblico/2016/10/31/0783/01757.html#orig. For a published record of the Joint Statement and homilies from the events in Sweden in 2016, see: Origins, Catholic News Service Documentation Service, vol. 46, no. 24 (November 10, 2016), 369–377.

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­ rovidence. Keep working, and may that voice of hope that you heard at the p beginning of your adventure continue to move your own heart and the hearts of many young people.4

At the ecumenical service before the signing of the joint statement, Rev. Martin Junge, LWF General Secretary, acknowledged in his homily the sad truth that we lost what was given to us—the unity of the body of Christ. He observed how “the revelation of the unity that we have in Jesus Christ clashes with the fragmented reality of Christ’s body, his church.”5 By summer 2017, several months later, my list of speaking commitments for the September and October had expanded and become so tightly scheduled that I felt a need for inspiration for a new insight from scripture about hope, rather than repeating the same lines for different groups. The theme of hope fills scripture. Help eventually arrived at a Sunday liturgy early that summer from the hymn, “The Love of the Lord” by Fr. Michael Joncas: What more could bring us hope than to know the power of his life? What more could bring us peace than to share in his suffering? What more could be our final wish than to live in love of the Lord?

As I sang the first line, I knew that I needed to find is scriptural basis, which turned out to be Philippians 3:7–14. St. Paul spelled out in terms that could easily have been drawn from the language of Lutheran-Catholic conversations his hope in the fulfillment to come, the eschaton, when all will be made clear and right. The New American Bible translation retains the word “hope”: [But] whatever gains I had, these I have come to consider a loss because of Christ. More than that, I even consider everything as a loss because of the supreme good of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have accepted the loss of all things and I consider them so much rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having any righteousness of my own based on the law but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God, depending on faith to know him and the power of his ­resurrection 4  On the Vatican website: http://w2.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/events/event.dir. html/content/vaticanevents/en/2016/10/31/sveziaeventoecumenico.html. Origins 46, 24: 375. 5  Origins 46, 24: 372.

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and [the] sharing of his sufferings by being conformed to his death, if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead. It is not that I have already taken hold of it or have already attained perfect maturity, but I continue my pursuit in hope that I may possess it, since I have indeed been taken possession of by Christ [Jesus]. Brothers and sisters, I for my part do not consider myself to have taken possession. Just one thing: forgetting what lies behind but straining forward to what lies ahead, I continue my pursuit toward the goal, the prize of God’s upward calling, in Christ Jesus.

The passage reminds us that our personal hope for fulfillment and our eschatological hope for unity are inexorably joined through Christ who is the content of both. Righteousness, justification for knowing through faith that what we believe is right about salvation and the unity of Christ’s followers, and thereby assurance of how we should act come not through our own merits and personal achievements, but because of the actions of Christ Jesus. Taking inspiration from this passage and thinking of the next concrete steps in ecumenical progress, one could easily turn to the role of the Holy Spirit leading Christians on their pilgrimage toward reconciliation. This passage in Philippians draws our attention to the past, beyond the 500 years of our mostly dysfunctional history, to the saving actions of Christ and the apostolic response. On the other hand, an incomparable source of reassurance for ecumenists today with regard to Lutheran-Catholic relations is their monumental achievement of consensus in 1999 on the doctrine of justification itself, that singular issue that set Luther’s Reformation in motion.

Common Commemoration Martin Marty summarized the centrality of the sixteenth-century debate on the issue of justification in the little book that he published for the fifth centenary, October 31, 1517: Martin Luther and the Day That Changed the World: “The problem to which all his ninety-five theses related had to do with his focal concept, an obsession of Luther: the biblical claim that one is ‘made right with God’ not through any human effort—the code word

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then and now was and is ‘through good works’—but entirely by divine grace ‘through faith.’”6 With the 1999 success of the Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification behind them, the Lutheran-Catholic Commission on Unity in 2013 issued a report, From Conflict to Communion: Lutheran-Catholic Common Commemoration of the Reformation in 2017. The commission, sponsored by the LWF and the Vatican’s Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity, has represented the global dialogue between Lutherans and Catholics since 1967.7 In its opening chapter, From Conflict to Communion reviews the character of previous centenaries in comparison with what could easily become the ecumenical style for the fifth, each of which reflected the issues of its century and none of which were ecumenical. The report concluded that “it is no longer adequate simply to repeat earlier accounts of the Reformation period” and that these historical remembrances as various times in our pre-ecumenical past have “had material consequences for the relationship of the confessions to each other.” The authors of the report recognized that even then, after decades of ecumenical dialogue and prayer in common, Catholics still associate “Reformation” with church division and Lutherans associate “Reformation” chiefly with the rediscovery of the gospel, certainty of faith and freedom in contrast to imagined Catholic policies and practices. Unlike previous centennial commemorations of the Lutheran Reformation, the year 2017 would epitomize the first such commemoration in the ecumenical age.8 This alone is evidence and cause of hope in how far Lutherans and Catholic have journeyed since the entry of the Catholic Church in the ecumenical movement fifty years ago with the Second Vatican Council (1962–1965). From the beginning, Pope John XXIII wanted all to know that the Second Vatican Council, or Vatican II in shorthand, was going to be a truly ecumenical council, when he offered “a renewed invitation to the faithful of the separated communities to us also amiably in this search of 6  Martin E. Marty, October 31, 1517: Martin Luther and the Day That Changed the World (Brewster, MA: Paraclete Press, 2016), 19. 7   See the LWF website: https://www.lutheranworld.org/content/lutheran-romancatholic-dialogue; also see the website of the Centro Pro Unione: https://www.prounione. it/dialogues/l-rc/#first-phase. 8   Lutheran-Roman Catholic Commission on Unity, From Conflict to Communion: Lutheran-Catholic Common Commemoration of the Reformation in 2017 (Leipzig/ Paderborn: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt/Bonifatius, 2013), 11–13.

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unity and grace, to which many souls yearn from all points of the earth” in his first public announcement in January 1959.9 Of its many significances, Vatican II represented the first formal step of the Catholic Church into the ecumenical movement, which already had an eighty-year history. The ecumenical movement’s most notable achievement by 1959 was the formation of the World Council of Churches in 1948. Pope John, aware of this and other developments among other churches and communions of Christians, invited Cardinal Augustin Bea to design a Secretariat for Promoting Christian Unity among the preparatory commissions for Vatican II and to draw into its sphere of activities Catholic scholars and innovators to bring the Catholic Church into the ecumenical age. Even so, the only conciliar document to refer to “Reformation” was aptly the Secretariat’s Decree on Ecumenism, in one reference to the historical events of the sixteen century and in another on the ongoing reform of the church in this positive sense: “Christ summons the Church to continual reformation (reformatio) as she sojourns here on earth” (6).10 The Decree more often employed the term “renewal” (renovatio) which it did six times, the term appearing in most other documents of the council for what the bishops at Vatican II were doing to bring the Catholic Church into the modern age. Pope John lived only through the first of the four sessions of the Council. He was followed by Pope Paul VI who is credited for bringing the council to a successful conclusion and instilling in Catholics an understanding of what it means to belong to a church in dialogue. It was a great hope of many involved with Vatican II that ecumenical dialogues would emerge after the council to begin the slow work of reconciliation with other Christian. It was another matter, indeed, if Catholic were prepared to accept Reformation as a positive term. On December 23, 1965, two weeks after the close of Vatican II, Pope Paul found the precise words for that moment between the rapid steps for renewals and innovations of the council and the slower steps of implementation, including ecumenical dialogue, to describe what he thought the council had done for that moment in history. 9  “Sollemnis Allocutio,” Acta Apostolicae Sedis 51 (1959): 68–69, hereafter cited as AAS; and commented on by Thomas F. Stransky, “The Foundation of the Secretariat for Promoting Christian Unity,” in Vatican II Revisited by Those Who Were There, ed. Alberic Stacpoole (Minneapolis, MN: Winston Press, 1986), 62. 10  http://www.vatican.va/archive/hist_councils/ii_vatican_council/documents/ vat-ii_decree_19641121_unitatis-redintegratio_en.html.

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The occasion two days before Christmas in 1965 was the pope’s annual Christmas greeting to the Rome Curia, at which time the pope often reviewed the major events of the year. By far in 1965 it was the successful conclusion of Vatican II. Speaking in Italian, Pope Paul offered two general observations: first, he described the overwhelming positive character of the council and second, he sought to explain the challenging nature of its conclusions. On this second point, he said that the council was not meant to be a transformation of the church, given its divine essence, nor was it meant to be a radical reformation (radicalmente riformatore), like some past councils for different needs than those at the present. Rather, he said, Vatican II it was a renewal (rinnovatore) and, with regard to some doctrinal and practical points, the council was also an innovator (innovatore).11 Pope Paul VI seemed to want to resist using the term “reformation,” despite his expressions of genuine affection for the Protestant observers at the council.12 Whatever hesitations existed, at Vatican II, the bishops committed the Catholic Church to the promotion of ecumenical dialogue leading to reconciliation among Christians and the restoration of unity.13 One of the first dialogues underway after the council was with Lutherans. After sixteen years, significantly on October 31, 1983, there was a sign of Catholic acceptance of the benefits of the Lutheran Reformation. Pope John Paul II sent a letter to Cardinal Johannes Willebrands, the successor to Cardinal Bea as President of the Secretariat for Promoting Christian Unity, to be shared with Lutheran partners in dialogue on the occasion of a 500th anniversary year of Martin Luther’s birth. Pope John Paul observed how 11  The address is on the Vatican website: http://www.vatican.va/content/paul-vi/it/ speeches/1965/documents/hf_p-vi_spe_19651223_sacro-collegio.html. 12  On December 4, four days before the formal closing of Vatican II, Paul VI presided at an ecumenical service of prayer at the Basilica of St. Paul Outside-the-Walls and described to the delegated observers and representatives of other Christian communions and churches what the close of the council specifically means to him regarding their relationship: “Your departure produces around us a solitude that before the Council we did not know and which now saddens us; we would like to see you always with us!” After the service, Pope Paul led the observers into the chapter room of the basilica where Pope John XXIII had announced on January 25, 1959, to cardinals that he was going to call a general council of the Catholic Church. 13  The Decree on Christian Unity states: “It is the Council’s urgent desire that, in the various organizations and living activities of the Church, every effort should be made toward the gradual realization of this unity, especially by prayer, and by fraternal dialogue on points of doctrine and the more pressing pastoral problems of our time” (18).

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that anniversary year provided an occasion “to meditate, in truth and in Christian charity, on that event pregnant with history that was the era of the Reformation.” He then concluded the 750-word letter with this promising acknowledgment: “In the humble contemplation of the Mystery of divine Providence and in the devoted listening to what the Spirit of God teaches us today in remembrance of the events of the Reformation era, the Church tends to widen the boundaries of her love, to meet unity of all those who, through Baptism, bear the name of Jesus Christ.”14

Lutherans and Catholics in Common Commemoration as Cause for Hope In preparation for the fifth centennial year of the Lutheran Reformation, Cardinal Walter Kasper, a successor to both Cardinals Bea and Willebrands, urged Catholics, Lutherans, and other Christians with more particular focus in his little book Martin Luther: An Ecumenical Perspective (2016): “We must reflect together in an ecumenical fashion on the original, evangelical and Catholic concern of Luther.” To open that year of commemoration, Pope Francis traveled to Sweden to co-host with Bishop Munib Younan, President of the Lutheran World Federation, a “common commemoration.” There in Lund, they declared together: Fifty years of sustained and fruitful ecumenical dialogue between Catholics and Lutherans have helped us to overcome many differences and have deepened our mutual understanding and trust. At the same time, we have drawn closer to one another through joint service to our neighbors—often in circumstances of suffering and persecution. These are words from the joint statement of October 31, 2016, opening a year of joint commemorations and remembrances of 500 years of Reformation.15

It is a truly a confident statement of hope when Pope Francis and Bishop Younan declared, “While the past cannot be changed, what is remembered and how it is remembered can be transformed.” We might add that as we 14  http://www.vatican.va/content/john-paul-ii/it/letters/1983/documents/hf_jp-ii_ let_19831031_card-willebrands.html. 15  h t t p : / / p r e s s . v a t i c a n . v a / c o n t e n t / s a l a s t a m p a / i t / b o l l e t t i n o / pubblico/2016/10/31/0783/01757.html#orig. Origins, 46, 24, 373.

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remember together our past, we can work on new memories for our ecumenical future. The international commission, besides issuing the Report, From Conflict to Communion, also prepared a resource, Common Prayer, which might serve as a more lasting resource well beyond 2017.16 In the United States, the Lutheran Synod of Southwest Pennsylvania, the Diocese of Greensburg, the Diocese of Pittsburgh, and the Metropolitan Archeparchy [Ruthenian Catholic] of Pittsburgh produced a Study Guide for From Conflict to Communion, and published in 2015.17 During the common commemorations in 2017, there were commitments expressed to remake Reformation Day into Common Commemoration Day. Realistically, an annual Common Commemoration Day would offer greater hope to most Christians than the outcome of dialogues because common liturgical commemoration offers an available and prayerful experience of growing reconciliation leading to full common. Promotion of such ongoing experiences of reconciliation was behind the effort in 2014 when representatives of Lutheran Augsburg/Fortress Press and Catholic Liturgical Press convened six of us, three Catholics and three Lutherans, to put together a parish/congregation resource. We accomplished it in a limited amount of time, five days, creating a resource that was readable and usable. We found inspiration in Romans 8: 23–24, “and not only that [creation is groaning in labor pains], we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, we also groan within ourselves as we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies; for in hope we were saved.” We entitled our resource One Hope: Re-membering the Body of Christ, playing upon the double meaning of the subtitle, to recall and to put pieces back together. We wrote at the beginning: Our hope in writing this book is that attention to the embodied and communal practices we describe in the following chapters might help us— not only as Lutherans and Catholics Christians, but also as a human family—

16  Common Prayer: From Conflict to Communion, Lutheran-Catholic Common Commemoration of the Reformation in 2017 was available on the LWF website: https:// www.lutheranworld.org/sites/default/files/dtpw-lrc-liturgy-2016_en.pdf. 17  The Study Guild was available on the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America website: http://download.elca.org/ELCA%20Resource%20Repository/From_Conflict_To_ CommunionStudy_Guide_3-13.pdf.

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to truly re-member who and whose we are as we seek the healing of our wounded world.18

We selected six major activities lived daily by the human family: breathing and praying, eating and drinking, singing and worshiping, forgiving and reconciling, serving and seeking justice, and dying and grieving. We approached these themes in evangelical and sacramental ways, citing sources from the dialogues on what we hold in common. These ordinary human activities, which we bless through our daily joys and sorrows and “sacramentalize” through our baptism, are ways of behaving through which we are called to embody the gospel for one another. We drew from the agreed statements of our formal dialogues and from our other commonly held sources for joint reflection to identify ways for witnessing together the great hope that we share in Christ and for learning from our diverse ways of being Christians. “The ministry of Jesus began as a journey through the Galilean countryside,” we reminded readers at the end, and “the ecumenical movement continues the journey that began in Galilee” in our daily lives.

Hope and the Dialogue When Pope Francis celebrated the annual Week of Prayer for Christian Unity on the special day of its closing, January 25, 2017, at Basilica of St. Paul Outside-the-Walls, the same place and day in January where Pope John XXIII in 1959 had announced a general council and the invitation to other Christians, he drew attention to the fact that “Catholics and Lutherans can nowadays join in commemorating an event that divided Christians, and can do so with hope, placing the emphasis on Jesus and his work of atonement, is a remarkable achievement, thanks to God and prayers, and the result of fifty years of growing mutual knowledge and ecumenical dialogue.”19 In the sentences before this, Pope Francis had referred to “the hope that does not disappoint” (Romans 5:5) and “a 18  Julie K. Aageson, John Borelli, John Klassen, Derek Nelson, Martha Stortz, and Jesical Wrobleski, One Hope: Re-membering the Body of Christ (Minneapolis/Collegeville, MN: Augsburg Fortress/Liturgical Press, 2015), 12. 19  “Celebration in Rome of the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity 2017,” Information Service: Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity 149 (2017/I), 5–6. See also: http://w2.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/homilies/2017/documents/papafrancesco_20170125_vespri-conversione-san-paolo.html.

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future in which divisions can be overcome and believers, renewed in love, will be fully and visibly one.” No doubt, the singular achievement of Lutheran-Catholic dialogue over the past years was the signing of the Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification on October 31, 1999. In Lund, in 2016, Pope Francis referred to that doctrine in his homily at the ecumenical prayer service on October 31: In effect, the question of a just relationship with God is the decisive question for our lives. As we know, Luther encountered that propitious God in the good news of Jesus, incarnate, dead and risen. With the concept “by grace alone,” he reminds us that God always takes the initiative, prior to any human response, even as he seeks to awaken that response. The doctrine of justification thus expresses the essence of human existence before God.20

When he led an ecumenical delegation from Finland to Rome on the occasion of the Feast of Saint Henrik and for the Week of Prayer events in January 2017, Lutheran Bishop Kaarlo Kalliala reiterated that “justification was the great dividing question of the Reformation.” Bishop Kalliala recalled the Joint Declaration of 1999 and its conclusion that consensus on this basic truth “must influence the life and teachings of our churches.” He then plainly observed that “the way we speak, the way we live must change” and that this is the “transforming repentance that we as Churches and individual have sought.” Bishop Kalliala drew a timeline of hope. He pointed out that his teacher of dogmatics, Seppo A.  Teinonen, was an observer for the Lutheran World Federation at Vatican II and then asked if his own grandchildren, who were then six and eight, “will be the ones to see the unity made reality in their lifetime?”21 The long and slow progress toward consensus on this doctrine reveals how truly divided and accustomed to division we were. In the United States, the dialogue between Catholics and Lutherans sponsored on a national level by the churches began in 1965. The first meeting actually took place in early July 1965 before the final session of Vatican II convened that fall. Over the years, this national dialogue has produced eleven agreements. Their 1983 document, entitle Justification by Faith, is a hefty report: a 21,000-word statement, in 165 numbered  Origins, 46, 24, 370–371.  Information Service 149, 4.

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paragraphs with 218 notes. Participants acknowledged that what they could affirm together after five years of dialogue on this topic was “not fully equivalent to the Reformation teaching on justification according to which God accepts sinners as righteous for Christ’s sake on the basis of faith alone; but by its [this agreement’s] insistence that reliance for salvation should be placed entirely on God, it expressed a central concern of that doctrine.” At the same time, and this is very important, the signers realized that there were not just remaining differences on theological formulations but that Lutherans and Catholics had differing concerns and thought structures for addressing those concerns.22 This was an extremely important step leading to an eventual “differentiating consensus” that characterizes the Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification that representatives of the Lutheran World Federation and the Holy See signed in 1999. The international dialogue itself, sponsored by the Holy See (the Vatican) and the Lutheran World Federation, had only a little slower start but has had just as productive an output, nine agreements, over three phases, and with four different teams on the dialogue. The third phase produced just one agreement, but that one was the significant agreement, Church and Justification in 1993, leading toward the Joint Declaration. A special commission was formed and composed the Joint Declaration in 1997. It was signed two years later not without some difficulty on both sides, with reservations expressed by theologians in Germany and other Protestant lands and with concerns raised by officials of the Catholic Church. These had to be addressed with the composition of a common statement and an annex before the signing could take place on October 31, 1999, in Augsburg, Germany.

Differentiating Consensus The great achievement and source of hope of the Joint Declaration of 1999 was that it was composed as a differentiating consensus in which no less than seven affirmations were explained from differing Lutheran and Catholic perspectives. The insight reported in 1983 by the U.S. dialogue that Lutherans and Catholics had differing concerns and differing thought  “Justification by Faith,” U.S.  Lutheran-Roman Catholic Dialogue, Building Unity: Ecumenical Dialogues with Roman Catholic Participation in the United States, edited by Joseph A. Burgess and Brother Jeffrey Gros, FSC (New York: Paulist Press, 1989), 270–273. The text was also published in Origins 13, 17 (October 6, 1983): 276ff. 22

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structures proved helpful. The Joint Declaration encompasses a consensus on basic truths; differing explications in particular affirmations were deemed compatible with that consensus. The consensus involves four major points of agreement on doctrine: 1. Justification is the work of the triune God: by grace alone, in faith in Christ’s saving work and not because of any merit on our part, we are accepted by God and receive the Holy Spirit, who renews our hearts while equipping us to good works; 2. All are called by God to salvation in Christ; the Holy Spirit works through Word and Sacrament in the community of believers; 3. We are sinners, our new life is solely due to God’s forgiveness and mercy, and we receive this gift in faith, never meriting it; 4. Justification stands in an essential relation to all truths of faith.23 The central consensus on justification is on the first point: “By grace alone, in faith in Christ’s saving work and not because of any merit on our part, we are accepted by God and receive the Holy Spirit, who renews our hearts while equipping and calling us to good work.”24 The Joint Declaration then is explicated by seven affirmations with differing, but not church-dividing, understandings: . Human powerlessness and sin in relation to justification 1 2. Justification as forgiveness of sins and making righteous 3. Justification by faith and through grace 4. The justified sinner 5. Law and gospel 6. Assurance of salvation 7. The good works of the justified  This is the author’s summary of paragraphs 15–18 of the document. See: The Lutheran World Federation and the Roman Catholic Church, Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2000), 15–16. See also the Vatican website, http://www.vatican.va/roman_curia/pontifical_councils/ chrstuni/documents/rc_pc_chrstuni_doc_31101999_cath-luth-joint-declaration_en.html, and the Lutheran World Federation website, https://www.lutheranworld.org/sites/ default/files/Joint%20Declaration%20on%20the%20Doctrine%20of%20Justification.pdf. 24  The Joint Deliration on the Doctrine of Justification 15. This point in the text is supported by a 1980 agreement of the international dialogue, “All Under One Christ,” marking the 450th anniversary of “The Augsburg Confession.” See: Growth in Agreement, edited by Harding Meyer and Lukas Vischer (New York/Geneva: Paulist Press/World Council of Churches, 1984), 241–247. 23

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For each of these there is a commentary from a Lutheran perspective and a commentary from a Catholic perspective. Reaching a differentiating consensus was a lesson learned over “ecumenical time.” Experience had taught that some agreements will not be a “total consensus” or a “simple consensus” but require unity through a diversity of understandings. That expression already had a history in this particular dialogue in that Unity through Diversity was the title of a book authored by Lutheran scholar Oscar Cullmann, who was one of the Lutheran observers at Vatican II and an early participant in the dialogue. Published in 1988, the volume is dated for its context; however, Pope Francis has referred to it and its author. For example, in the volume of dialogues between himself and Rabbi Abraham Skorka, while he was still Archbishop of Buenos Aires, the future Pope Francis said: There is a quote from a German Lutheran theologian, Oscar Cullman, that refers to how to bring together the different Christian denominations. He says we should not seek that everyone, from the outset, affirm the same thing, but instead he proposed that we walk together in a reconciliated diversity; he resolves the religious conflicts of the many Christian denominations by walking together, by doing things together, by praying together.25

The pope likes the concept though he was not thoroughly endorsing Cullmann’s arguments from almost thirty years ago.26 Notably, Pope Francis referred to reconciled diversity in his homily on Pentecost Sunday in 2017: “In other words, the same Spirit creates diversity and unity, and in this way forms a new, diverse and unified people: the universal Church.” He continued by mentioning the two temptations, seeking diversity without unity and unity without diversity.27 In their commentary on the Joint Declaration as the breakthrough step for the ecumenical journey for Lutherans and Catholics, Susan Wood and Timothy Wengert explained the methodology of a differentiating 25  Jorge Mario Bergoglio and Abraham Skorka, On Heaven and Earth, translated by Alejandro Bermudez and Howard Goodman (New York: Image: 2013), 217. 26  Oscar Cullmann, Unity through Diversity: Its Foundation, and a Contribution to the Discussion concerning the Possibilities of Its Actualization, translated by M. Eugene Boring (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1988). 27  http://w2.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/homilies/2017/documents/papafrancesco_20170604_omelia-pentecoste.html.

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consensus: “Each positive statement of common confession [in each of the seven affirmations of what Lutherans and Catholics confess together] is followed by a paragraph clarifying the Catholic understanding and another clarifying the Lutheran understanding.”28 Lutherans, for example, aware of the actual terms of the agreement, may continue to fear that Catholics believe that good works render us more and more acceptable to God and thus are seen by Catholics as the real ground of our reception into eternal life—a doctrine of works righteousness assisted by grace that they condemned in the sixteenth century and now. Catholics following the complicated debate likewise fear that by separating justification from sanctification Lutherans believe that forgiveness and acceptance by God bear only a secondary and external relationship to any transformation of the sinner; furthermore, they fear that Lutherans understand assurance of faith in a subjective way, namely, that one is forgiven because one believes it is true. The Council of Trent condemned what Catholic theologians and officials perceived to be “the vain confidence of heretics,” calling that a proud assurance that one’s sins have been forgiven. There were attempts at reconciliation on these issues in the sixteenth century, at Augsburg in 1530 and at Regensburg in 1541. A promising document, the Augsburg Confession of 1530, did not provide a lasting compromise under the political circumstances of the time, though it remains a charter document for Lutherans and thus lives on as one of the pivotal texts in Christian history. Its rejection by Catholic theologians dashed the hopes of bridging the widening gulf between Lutheran reformers and Catholics. A tentative agreement eleven years later, largely successful because there was theological exchange among the discussants, according to Wood and Wengert, failed to please religious and political authorities not present at the meeting.29 Thus, by the time a council of the Catholic Church, convened in Trent in 1545, nearly thirty years after Luther’s first protest and a year before his death, it was too late to address the specific issues raised by Luther and held dear by reformers, especially the doctrine of justification. Actually, Lutherans were unable to arrive at Trent until 1552, toward the end of its second session and after necessary assurances of safe passage. By then, much work had already been accomplished by the Catholic bishops with theological debates and exchanges 28  Susan K.  Wood & Timothy J.  Wengert, A Shared Spiritual Journey: Lutherans and Catholics Traveling toward Unity (New York: Paulist Press, 2016), 55. 29  Wood and Wengert, A Shared Spiritual Journey, 19–23.

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among the bishops present. The Lutheran demands for the council were too much to accept. The reformers wanted the council to proceed without papal leadership, that it would discard all its earlier decrees and begin again, and that they, though viewed by Catholic authorities as laymen, should have the same voting rights as bishops. Matters had gone too far for accommodation. Trent’s reforms for the church would take place apart from the Protestant reformers, and Protestants and Catholics would grow further apart.30 This paragraph by Susan Wood and Timothy Wengert, which gives their evaluation of differing perspectives on the Joint Declaration lingering even after consensus was achieved by the dialogue participants, is most useful in understanding the effects of centuries of separation: If the truth be told, bad catechesis on the part of both Catholics and Lutherans has at times perpetuated these extreme and erroneous interpretations. Catholics need to recall to themselves and to their Protestant dialogue partner that Trent clearly taught that the first grace of justification is never merited and that merit only applies to an increase in justification and sanctification, what might be better described today as an ever deeper appropriation of a transformative relation to the Holy Spirit. Lutherans need to remind themselves and their Catholic partners that justification by faith alone and assurance of salvation are embedded in embodied participation in the corporate life of the church and the means of grace through Word and Sacrament.31

“Deeper appropriation of a transformative relation to the Holy Spirit” and “participation in the corporate life of the church and the means of grace through Word and Sacrament” are excellent reasons for hope among Catholics, Lutherans, and others as they decidedly are moving ever closer to reconciliation and full communion. The Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification states that believers “place their trust in God’s gracious promise by justifying faith, which includes hope in God and love for him.” “Such a faith,” it continues, “is active in love and thus the Christian cannot and should not remain without works” (25). Lutherans emphasize that “because God’s act is a new creation, it affects all dimensions of the person and leads to a life in hope 30  John W.  O’Malley, Trent: What Happened at the Council (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2013), 154–156. 31  Wood and Wengert, A Shared Spiritual Journey, 63–64.

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and love” (26). Further, they believe that “such a faith is active in love and thus the Christian cannot and should not remain without works” but that “whatever in the justified precedes or follows the free gift of faith is neither the basis of justification nor merits it.” Catholics emphasize how “in justification the righteous receive from Christ faith, hope, and love and are thereby taken into communion with him.” Further, “while Catholic teaching emphasizes the renewal of life by justifying grace, this renewal in faith, hope, and love is always dependent on God’s unfathomable grace and contributes nothing to justification about which one could boast before God,” citing Romans 3:27. (26) That is how a differentiating consensus works. On October 31, 2017, the Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity and Lutheran World Federation issued a “Joint Statement on the Conclusion of the Year of Common Commemoration of the Reformation.” Among the many blessings of that year recalled by the statement was the fact that in this common commemoration “for the first time Lutherans and Catholics have seen the Reformation from an ecumenical perspective.” This, the sponsors observed, allowed “new insight into the events of the sixteenth century which led to our separation.” Repeating the message of Pope Francis and Bishop Younan in 2016, they further agreed that “while the past cannot be changed, its influence upon us today can be transformed to become a stimulus for growing communion and a sign of hope for the world to overcome division and fragmentation.” As a further sign of hope, they then listed how other communions have accepted the Joint Declaration: 1. In 2006 the World Methodist Council associated with it as an agreement. 2. In 2017, the World Communion of Reformed Churches agreed with it. 3. On that very day, October 31, 2017, the Anglican Communion at a solemn ceremony in Westminster Abbey welcomed and affirmed it.32 32  “Joint Statement on the Conclusion of the Year of Common Commemoration of the Reformation” is on the website of the Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue, http:// www.christianunity.va/content/unitacristiani/en/dialoghi/sezione-occidentale/luterani/ relazioni/en.html and is on the website of the Lutheran World Federation, https://www. lutheranworld.org/sites/default/files/2017/joint_statement_lwf-pcpcu_-_en.pdf. See also: “Statement on Conclusion of Year of Joint Commemoration of the Reformation,” Origins 47, 24 (November 9, 2017): 369–370.

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Conclusion The U.S.  Lutheran-Catholic Dialogue completed its eleventh and most recent joint statement in 2010 and published it in 2011, “The Hope of Eternal Life.” It focuses on the eschatological hope for the kingdom to come and faithful trust in God’s mercy. One of their common affirmations is: Catholics and Lutherans confess together a common conviction that the triumph of God’s grace will be consummated in a perfect communion of love, justice, and peace. All the redeemed will exist in harmony with God and with one another in a radically transformed world. This hope is significant for our ecumenical efforts. As is often said, (and citing Cardinal Walter Kasper) our divisions do not reach to heaven. We look forward to the day when all divisions among Christ’s followers are erased before the throne of the Lamb. (154)33

This recalls the earlier reference to Philippians 3, “but I continue my pursuit in hope that I may possess it, since I have indeed been taken possession of by Christ” in reference to the undivided hope recognized in “The Hope of Eternal Life.” Furthermore, the passage, “forgetting what lies behind but straining forward to what lies ahead, I continue my pursuit toward the goal, the prize of God’s upward calling, in Christ Jesus,” seems too optimistic from the lessons acknowledged at the time of the year of common commemoration. Even after decades of dialogue, Lutherans and Catholics realized how truly reluctant to forget the past they remain, but perhaps by transforming the influence of the past and allowing themselves to be transformed by the Spirit bringing them together, they may strain forward to the growing communion that lies ahead. In June 2018, representatives of the five communions that signed the Joint Declaration, Catholic, Lutheran, Reformed, Anglican, and Methodist, met in Rome agreeing that a new momentum has resulted from the common commemoration of 2017 and the growing consensus 33  The document is on the website of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, http:// www.usccb.org/beliefs-and-teachings/ecumenical-and-interreligious/ecumenical/ lutheran/hope-eternal-life.cfm, and as a joint publication of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America and the USCCB, edited by Lowell G. Almon and Richard J. Sklba, 2011. The reference to Cardinal Walter Kasper is here: https://www.vatican.va/roman_curia/ pontifical_councils/chrstuni/card-kasper-docs/rc_pc_chrstuni_doc_20030227_ ecumenical-theology_en.html.

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on the doctrine of justification. They agreed to hold a consultation in March 2019 to ask together what kind of spiritual and ecclesiastical consequences the Joint Declaration might have for their churches in healing the wounds of division and responding to the aspirations of all Christians.34 That next consultation met at the end of March 2019 at the University of Notre Dame with a larger group of church officials and theologians and scholars. The consultation issued a statement, which offers a way forward. The representatives of the five communions stated several affirmations: 1. The basic truths of the doctrine of justification expressed in Joint Declaration. 2. Justification calls for personal and social sanctification and for resisting and overcoming injustices. 3. The Holy Spirit uses one another’s ministries, worship, and church life. 4. All activities should be guided by the first imperative of From Conflict to Communion: “always begin from the perspective of unity and not from the point of view of division.” 5. The method of the differentiating consensus be applied to other controversial questions within and between the churches but also to conflicts in the wider society. 6. Ecumenism proceeds at different but inter-related levels.35

More importantly, the participants agreed to establish a Steering Committee to take forward the momentum generated by this multi-­ communion effort thus far. They proposed a follow-up forum, following the affirmations identified and endorsed, to review progress after three years. Further, and more meaningful to most Christians, they proposed to develop a range of catechetical tools and resources, flowing from these affirmations for all aspects of church life and theological education. Perhaps ecumenically prepared catechetical materials based on the hardearned consensus on the key doctrine of justification will offset the “bad catechesis on the part of both Catholics and Lutherans has at times perpetuated these extreme and erroneous interpretations,” identified by 34  https://international.la-croix.com/news/christian-leaders-see-new-momentum-insear ch-for-unity/7803?utm_sour ce=Newsletter&utm_medium=e-mail&utm_ content=12-06-2018&utm_campaign=newsletter__crx_lci&PMID=f7fffe49e178b951f fc6380f06f2a017. 35  https://www.lutheranworld.org/sites/default/files/2019/documents/190303-jddj_ nd_statement_final-en.pdf.

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Susan Wood and Timothy Wengert, and will provide further hope that reconciliation rather than separate identity will become a priority for all Christians. I was privileged to be present on January 25, 2015, the fiftieth year since Vatican II, at the Basilica of St. Paul Outside-the-Walls for the close of the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity by Pope Francis. A number of ecumenists were there that evening to hear the pope’s admonition: Christian unity—we are convinced—will not be the fruit of subtle theoretical discussions in which each party tries to convince the other of the soundness of their opinions. When the Son of Man comes, he will find us still discussing! We need to realize that, to plumb the depths of the mystery of God, we need one another, we need to encounter one another and to challenge one another under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, who harmonizes diversities, overcomes conflicts, reconciles differences.36

Then reflecting on the passage in the Gospel of John (4:13–15) on Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan woman, Pope Francis observed that like this woman, so many in today’s world are weary and thirsty. Responding to this need, Christians of all communions, he pleaded, will find “a privileged setting for closer cooperation.” He urged all “to stop being self-­ enclosed, exclusive, and bent on imposing a uniformity based on merely human calculations” and “to overcome proselytism and competition in all their forms” in the service of the one Gospel. This is indeed a great hope for the future, “so that the world may believe,” and seems more realizable in the years ahead because of the good will resulting from the common commemorations of 2017.

36  http://w2.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/homilies/2015/documents/papafrancesco_20150125_vespri-conversione-san-paolo.html.

CHAPTER 15

Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue at Vatican II and in Its Aftermath: Charting the Way Forward Peter C. Phan

The legacy of the Reformation weighed heavily upon students of Catholic theology in the years before Vatican II. Courses offered in departments of theology were essentially simplified versions of those taught in seminaries. Furthermore, no courses on other Christian churches, let alone other religions, were offered. Ecumenical theology and religious studies were not deemed an integral part of theological learning, for the clergy as well as the laity. No American Catholic university would venture to hold a conference to promote church unity or interreligious understanding, much less an ecumenical and interfaith celebration, for fear of ecclesiastical censure. By contrast, today, half a century after Vatican II (1962–1965), a Catholic educational institution would be reprimanded should it ignore the Week

P. C. Phan (*) Department of Theology, Georgetown University, Washington, DC, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 G. Mannion et al. (eds.), Ecumenical Perspectives Five Hundred Years After Luther’s Reformation, Pathways for Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-68360-3_15

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of Prayer for Christian Unity (January 18–25) or does not routinely sponsor ecumenical and interfaith worship, especially in times of natural and man-made tragedies when the prayerful witness and collaboration of all believers is needed to overcome them. Also, to serve the spiritual needs of their religiously diverse student bodies, Catholic colleges generally include among their chaplaincy staff ministers not only of other Christian churches but also of non-Christian faiths. Another tell-tale sign of the changing academic and religious ethos is the abandonment by many colleges of the name “Department of Theology” in favor of “Department of Religious Studies,” or a combination of “Department of Theology and Religious Studies.” The purpose of this essay is not to trace the history of how Catholic colleges and universities have made a turn—indeed, nothing less than a conversion—toward ecumenical and interfaith dialogue as a result of Vatican II’s reforms. That these two forms of dialogue are now prevalent in Catholic institutions of higher education needs neither elaboration nor defense. Rather it aims to survey the current landscape of ecumenical and interreligious dialogue in the Catholic Church and to examine how the church can meet the challenges presented by this double dialogue. We begin with a retrospective glance at how Vatican II marked a decisive turning point in the Catholic Church’s self-understanding in relation to other Christian churches and non-Christian religions. We then look back at some of the most significant developments in the fields of ecumenical and interfaith dialogue in the past half century. The path of this evolution, as will be seen, has not been straight and easy. Rather it is a zigzag, with numerous detours and sidetracks and ups and downs. Nevertheless, the overall direction is forward, and there is no going back. Finally, we will reflect on the future directions, especially theological, still to be taken if Vatican II’s “dialogical conversion” is to bear fruit in our time. Before broaching these themes it is vital to note that for Vatican II, dialogue is not simply a series of activities on behalf of church unity and interreligious harmony, necessary though they are. Rather it is the very ethos, or the distinctive “style,” to quote John O’Malley, of the council.1 In contrast to its predecessors, Vatican II explicitly renounced issuing anathemas and imposing canonical penalties on dissenters. Rather, it adopted the rhetoric of dialogue and with it an attitude of generous 1  See John W.  O’Malley, What Happened at Vatican II (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2008), 43–52.

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hospitality, expansive openness, profound respect, sincere humility, genuine willingness to listen and to learn and to change, and all-inclusive friendship—essential qualities that make fruitful dialogue possible. Furthermore, dialogue animated by those virtues is adopted as the church’s modus operandi within itself as well as with other Christian churches, nonChristian religions, unbelievers, and the world at large. Indeed, dialogue is nothing less than a new way of being church.2 To understand Vatican II and its impact, it is necessary not simply to parse its sixteen documents with scholarly exactitude and rigor, but also to place them, especially those on ecumenical unity and the church’s relations to non-Christian religions, in the context of Vatican II as an event of dialogue, or more precisely, as a process in which the Catholic Church learned the difficult art of dialogue. In this respect, Vatican II represents a real break from, or discontinuity with, the way of being church since the Council of Trent (1545–1563), requiring, therefore, a corresponding “hermeneutics of discontinuity,” and not only the “hermeneutics of continuity.” In other words, something momentous did happen at Vatican II, for which the word “revolution” is not entirely inappropriate. That this is the case is indisputable if we take a look at where the church came from at Vatican II and where it was going since then in matters regarding ecumenical unity and dialogue with non-Christian religions.

2  The literature on Vatican II, especially theological, is immense. On the official level, Pope John Paul II has convoked an Extraordinary Synod of Bishops on the 20th anniversary of the closing of the Council (November 24 to December 8, 1985) to take stock of the conciliar reforms. Though not official, Josef Ratzinger’s assessment of Vatican II in his The Ratzinger Report (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1985), an interview with Vittorio Messori, is influential, given his position as Prefect of the Congregation of the Doctrine of the Faith. Among theological evaluations, the most comprehensive is the massive three-volume work edited by René Latourelle, ed., Vatican II: Assessment and Perspectives. Twenty-five Years After (1962–1987), published simultaneously in several European languages. The English edition was brought out by Paulist Press, 1988. An earlier and helpful assessment of Vatican II is Giuseppe Alberigo, Jean-Pierre Jossua and Joseph Komonchak, eds., The Reception of Vatican II, also published in several languages. The English translation is by Matthew J. O’Connell, published by The Catholic University Press of America, 1987, hereafter cited as Reception. Other helpful general works include: Alberic Stacpoole, ed., Vatican II Revisited by Those Who Were There, (Minneapolis, MN: Winston Press, 1986); F.  X. Kaufmann & A.  Zingerle, eds., Vatikanum II und Modernisiering: Historische, theolologische und soziologische Perspektiven (Paderborn: Schöning, 1996); and David Tracy, with Hans Küng and Johann B. Metz, eds., Toward Vatican III: The Work That Needs to Be Done (New York: The Seabury Press, 1978).

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Where Did We Come From? Ironically, some church documents have had an impact that far exceeds their lengths and even their authors’ wildest expectations. Such are Vatican II’s Decree on Ecumenism (Unitatis redintegratio [UR]) and Declaration on the Relation of the Church to Non-Christian Religions (Nostra aetate [NA]), especially the latter, with a mere 41 sentences in five paragraphs.3 Arguably, these documents of the council can be brief because their theological underpinnings have been elaborated at length elsewhere, notably the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church (Lumen gentium) and the Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World (Gaudium et spes). Still, during the council, no one expected that these two documents, especially Nostra Aetate, would set the postconciliar church on an arduous, at times hotly contested, path. It is often said in jest, albeit not without a large grain of truth, that a sure sign that the Catholic Church is introducing a new teaching or practice is when it claims that such teaching or practice has been present in the church “from the very beginning.” The bishops at Vatican II, conventionally referred to as “the council Fathers,” frankly acknowledged that church division “openly contradicts the will of Christ, scandalizes the world, and damages the sacred cause of preaching the Gospel to every creature” (UR, 1) and that “the restoration of unity among all Christians is one of the principal concerns of the Second Vatican Council” (UR, 1). They were honest enough not to claim the paternity of the ecumenical movement. Indeed, they did give credit to “members of the separated Christian communities” for initiating the movement “for the restoration of unity among all Christians” (UR, 1).4 3  The English translation of Vatican II’s documents is taken from Vatican II: The Basic Sixteen Documents, gen. ed. Austin Flannery (Northport, NY: Costello, 2007). 4  Though Vatican II did not mention the World Missionary Conference in Edinburgh in 1910, this meeting gave a powerful impetus to the ecumenical cause. The World Council of Churches (WCC), which was founded in 1948, has its roots in this conference. For a comparison between the Edinburgh Conference and Vatican II, see Peter C. Phan, “Mission and Interreligious Dialogue: Edinburgh, Vatican II, and Beyond,” in Todd M.  Johnson et alii, eds., 2010 Boston: The Changing Contours of World Mission and Christianity (Eugene, OR: Pickwick Publications, 2012) 84–109. The Catholic Church is not a member of the WCC but has worked closely with the Council and sends observers to all major WCC conferences as well as to its Central Committee meetings and Assemblies. The Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity also nominates 12 members to the WCC’s Faith and Order Committee as full members.

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No doubt a conscientious historian would note that Vatican II’s concern for church unity and positive appreciation for the ecumenical movement did not at all exist “from the beginning.” On the contrary, they represented a total volte-face from Pope Pius XI’s encyclical Mortalium animos (1929), issued a year after the Protestant-sponsored Faith and Order Conference held at Lausanne in 1927, condemning all movements and congresses promoting church unity and prohibiting Catholics to have anything to do with the ecumenical movement. For Pius XI, Protestants are “dissidents”— heretics and schismatics—who have sinfully abandoned the true church, and ecumenical unity can only mean that they must “return to the one true Church of Christ”—the Roman Catholic Church—and “acknowledge and accept with obedience the authority and power of Peter and his legitimate successors [the popes].”5 Compare this official and authoritative papal condemnation of the ecumenical movement with what is taught by Vatican II, and one cannot but be amazed at how far the church has come and, given the vigorous opposition of the minority group at the council, known as the Coetus Internationalis Patrum, led by Cardinal Alfredo Ottaviani, Prefect of the Holy Office (now the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith), how difficult the conversion of the council Fathers to the ecumenical cause was. Divided Christians’ “remorse over their divisions and longing for unity” and the “movement for the restoration of unity among all Christians” are now seen as God’s generous gift and “fostered by the grace of the Holy Spirit” (UR, 1). The decree on ecumenism is composed of three parts, entitled “Catholic Principles of Ecumenism,” “The Practice of Ecumenism,” and “Churches and Ecclesial Communities Separated from the Roman Apostolic See.” Of this document, the following points need to be highlighted. First, Jesus has founded only one church and has prayed for its unity (John 17:21). Second, “it is through Christ’s Catholic Church alone, which is the universal help toward salvation, that the fullness of the means of salvation can be obtained” (UR, 3). Third, the Catholic Church accepts those Christians who are not Catholic and yet are, through baptism, in “some, though imperfect, communion with the Catholic Church,” “with respect and affection as brothers and sisters” (UR, 3). Fourth, the divisions among Christians are contrary to God’s will and constitute a scandal, and 5  See Joseph Neuner and Jacques Dupuis, The Christian Faith in the Doctrinal Documents of the Catholic Church (Bangalore: Theological Publications, 2001), 376.

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therefore, every Christian is called to work to restore church unity, first of all through conversion: “There can be no ecumenism worthy of the name without interior conversion” (“spiritual ecumenism,” UR, 7). Fifth, in studying how the churches can form a consensus on doctrines, it is necessary to “remember that in Catholic doctrine there exists an order or ‘hierarchy’ of truths since they vary in their relation to the foundation of the Christian faith” (UR, 11). If the council Fathers had to undergo an intellectual and spiritual conversion in matters ecumenical, much more so must they when dealing with non-Christian religions. In spite of Christian divisions, church unity is already actualized by the fundamental bonds uniting all Christians with Christ and with one another. Differences that remain among them pale in significance when compared with those separating Christians and non-­ Christians. The pre-Vatican II church’s attitude toward non-Christians was succinctly stated in the declaration of the ecumenical Council of Florence (1442): “[The holy Roman Church] … firmly believes, professes and preaches that ‘no one remaining outside the Catholic Church, not only pagans,’ but also Jews, heretics or schismatics, can become partakers of eternal life, but they will go to the ‘eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels,’ unless before the end of their life they are received into it.”6 To this list of the damned, Muslims and other “pagans” such as Hindus, Buddhists, and the followers of other Asian, African, and Latin American religions will be added. Between 1442 and 1962, the church’s position on the impossibility of salvation for these religious believers did soften, especially through the theory of “invincible ignorance.”7 Nevertheless, there was no official recognition of and appreciation for the positive elements of truth and grace of these non-Christian religions in themselves. There was also no acknowledgment of the responsibility of Christians in fostering discrimination and hatred, at times on the basis of their Christian

6  See Joseph Neuner and Jacques Dupuis, The Christian Faith, 309–310. Or a convenient collection of church documents on interreligious dialogue, see Fancesco Gioia, ed., Interreligious Dialogue: The Officicla Teaching of the Catholic Church from the Second Vatican Council to John Paul II (1963–2005) (Boston: Pauline Books & Media, 2006). 7  The best studies of the possibility of salvation of non-Christians are Francis Sullivan, Salvation outside the Church? Tracing the History of the Catholic Response (New York: Paulist Press, 1992) and Bernard Sesboüé, Hors de l’Église pas de salut: Histoire d’une formule et problèmes d’interprétation (Paris: Desclée de Brouwer, 2004).

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teaching, against the religious “Other,” especially Jews (anti-Judaism), whose covenant with God is said to have been superseded by Christianity.8 As with the ecumenical movement, in its understanding of the relation between Christianity and other religions Vatican II again makes a 180-degree turn. It states: “The Catholic Church rejects nothing of what is true and holy in these religions. It has a high regard for the manner of life and conduct, the precepts and doctrines which, although differing in many ways from its own teaching, nevertheless often reflect a ray of that truth which enlightens all men and women” (NA, 2). The council goes on to say: “Let Christians, while witnessing to their own faith and way of life, acknowledge, preserve and encourage the spiritual and moral truths found among non-Christians, together with their social life and culture” (NA, 2). With regard to Jews, the council explicitly rejects the charge of deicide and any discriminatory practice against them. Most importantly, it affirms the continuing validity of God’s covenant with Israel.

Where Were We Going? During the half century after Vatican II, the ecumenical cause and interfaith dialogue took huge steps forward under the pontificates of Paul VI and especially John Paul II. With regard to ecumenical unity, dramatic gestures were made by both popes, such as the simultaneous revocation in 1965 by Paul VI and the patriarch of Constantinople Athenagoras I of the 1054 excommunication that led to the breaking of communion between the Catholic Church and the Orthodox Church, and John Paul’s numerous meetings with many leaders of other Christian churches at the Vatican and during his 129 international trips. Given the length of his pontificate (1978–2005), John Paul II was able to make an enormous contribution to church unity through his many encyclicals (especially Ut Unum Sint, 1995), the various offices of the Roman Curia (particularly the Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity, which includes the Commission for Religious Relations with Jews), bilateral and multilateral dialogues at the national and international levels with their reports (notably the 1981 and 2007 Final Report of the Anglican-Roman Catholic International Commission and the 1999 Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of 8  For a helpful exposition of the teaching of the Catholic Church on non-Christian religions prior to Vatican II, see Karl J. Becker & Ilaria Morali, eds., Catholic Engagement with World Religions: A Comprehensive Study (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2010), 23–150.

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Justification of the Lutheran-Roman Catholic Dialogue), and endless magisterial documents, especially the Directory Concerning Ecumenical Matters (1967 and 1970, revised in 1998). On the Protestant side, documents such as Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry (the so-called 1982 Lima Document of the World Council of Churches) held out great promises for church union. So far, in terms of doctrine and theology, ecumenical progress has been most notable in the relations of the Catholic Church with the Anglican, Lutheran, and Orthodox Churches. One significant achievement is the recognition of the ecclesial character of other Christian communities such that they are called “sister churches” or “separated churches.” To be precise, only the Orthodox Churches are accorded this ecclesial nature, and not the churches that originated from the Protestant churches which, according to Rome, do not possess the sacrament of orders and hence no true Eucharist, and therefore are not church in “the proper sense.”9 Sadly, in spite of much progress, full communion with these churches is now as elusive as ever. The reasons for the current “ecumenical winter” are manifold. The impact of bilateral and multilateral dialogues appears rather limited, since their consensus statements, achieved after prolonged and 9  Post-Vatican II documents on ecumenical unity may be found in the following works. On the dialogue between the Orthodox Church and the Catholic Church, two books are very useful: The Quest for Unity: Orthodox and Catholics in Dialogue, ed. John Borelli and John H. Erickson (New York: St Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1996); Toward the Healing of Schism: The Sees of Rome and Constantinople. Public Statements and Correspondence between the Holy See and the Ecumenical Patriarchate 1958–1984, ed. E. J. Stormon (New York: Paulist Press, 1987). In addition, the following works have informative sections on Catholic-Orthodox dialogue: In Search of Christian Unity: Basic Consensus/Basic Differences, ed. Joseph A. Burgess (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1991); Celebrating a Century of Ecumenism: Exploring the Achievements of International Dialogue, ed. John A. Radano (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2012); Growing Consensus I: Church Dialogues in the United States, ed., Joseph A. Burgess and Jeffrey Gros (New York: Paulist Press, 1995); Growing Consensus II: Church Dialogues in the United States, 1992–2004, ed. Lydia Veliko and Jeffrey Gros (Washington, DC: United States Conference of Catholic Bishops,2005); Deepening Communion: International Ecumenical Documents with Roman Catholic Participation, ed. Jeffrey Gros and William Rusch (New York: Paulist Press, 1998); Growth in Agreement IV, Bk 1: International Dialogue Texts and Agreed Statements 2005–2013, ed. Thomas F, Best et al. (Geneva: World Council of Churches, 2017); Growth in Agreement IV, Bk 1: International Dialogue Texts and Agreed Statements 2005–2013, ed. Thomas F.  Best et  al. (Geneva: World Council of Churches, 2017); and Growth in Agreement IV, Bk 2: International Dialogue Texts and Agreed Statements 2005–2013, ed. Thomas F.  Best et  al. (Geneva: World Council of Churches, 2017).

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laborious collaborative scholarship, and their practical proposals for church union, led to nowhere, hampered by the inertia and fear of church leaders. Furthermore, at the grassroots level, there is either ignorance or indifference on the part of a large number of Christians who are quite content with the status quo. On the side of the Vatican, recent Roman declarations such as Dominus Iesus and Pope Benedict’s decision to establish a personal ordinariate for groups of Anglicans wishing to enter into full communion with the Catholic Church had the unintended effect of throwing frigid water on what remains of the desire for ecumenical unity. Other developments such as the decision to ordain women, especially to the episcopacy, and of active homosexuals to ministry (e.g., Episcopal Bishops Gene Robinson and Mary Douglas Glasspool in the United States) seem to have posed an insurmountable obstacle for the future of full communion between the Anglican/Episcopal Church and the Roman Catholic Church. As far as interfaith dialogue is concerned, the contribution of John Paul II is immense. His friendship with Jews went back as far as his youth in his hometown of Wadowice. The pope made a series of dramatic firsts. In 1979, he visited the Nazi Auschwitz concentration camp, and in 1998, issued We Remember: A Reflection on the Shoah. In 1986, he visited the Great Synagogue of Rome. In 1994, he established formal diplomatic relations between the Holy See and the State of Israel, and in 2000, he visited the Yad Vashem, the national Holocaust memorial in Israel, and prayed at the Western Wall. He publicly begged forgiveness for any acts of hatred and violence committed by Christians against Jews. During his travels, John Paul made a point of meeting with the leaders of non-Christian faiths. In 1986, he convoked the highly controversial World Day of Prayer for Peace in Assisi, which was attended by more than 120 representatives of non-Christian religions and non-Catholic Christian churches. For understandable reasons, John Paul paid particular attention to Islam and Muslim communities, especially after 9/11, 2001, and repeatedly emphasized the common doctrines between Christianity and Islam and urged collaboration for peace and justice. He is the first pope to enter a Muslim house of worship (the Umayyyad Mosque in Damascus, Syria). He has even kissed the Qur’an as a sign of respect. During his pontificate, the Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue was particularly active. As with ecumenical dialogue, in spite of the goodwill that John Paul II generated among many followers of different religions, not much has been accomplished on the official level toward a more adequate theological

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understanding of the role of non-Christian religions beyond the oft-­ repeated thesis that they contain “seeds of the Word” and constitute “a preparation for the Gospel.” Again, perhaps unintentionally, the Vatican produced a chill on interfaith dialogue with its lukewarm reception of the anniversaries of John Paul II’s World Day of Prayer for Peace and condemnation of the (rather moderate) writings on interreligious dialogue of theologians such as Jacques Dupuis and others.10 Pope Benedict himself created a storm of protest with his quotation of an offensive remark by the Byzantine emperor Manuel II Palaiologos about the Prophet Muhammad in his speech at the University of Regensburg on September 12, 2016. Fortunately, this tragic event was followed by an open letter of 138 Muslim leaders, A Common Word Between Us and You, initiating a serious dialogue between Christianity and Islam.11

Whither from Here? The Catholic Church’s journey toward ecumenical unity and interreligious harmony has been both exhilarating and disheartening. The conversion of the council Fathers to dialogue was truly a gift of the Holy Spirit, and the efforts to achieve the goals of both dialogues in the aftermath of Vatican II were sincere and serious. At times, “full communion” among the churches and religious harmony was so near.12 And yet, still so far, today. Hopes kept being cheated, and the temptation to despair and cynicism is hard to resist. What stands in the way? Take ecumenical dialogue first. On the one hand, as we have noted, certain key doctrinal differences, such as those concerning justification, ministry, and the papacy, no longer seem to be church-dividing, especially among the Catholic, Anglican, Orthodox, and Lutheran Churches.13 On the other hand, the recent decision by the Anglican/Episcopal Church to ordain women, especially to the episcopacy, has met with serious objections on the part of the Catholic Church 10  See Richard Gaillardetz, ed., When the Magisterium Intervenes: The Magisterium and Theologians in Today Church (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2012). 11  For an English text, see A Common Word: Text and Reflection: A Resources for Parishes and Mosques (London: Muslim Academic Trust, 2011). 12  See John A. Radano, ed., Celebrating a Century of Ecumenism: Explroing the Achievements of International Dialogue (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2012). 13  For the doctrines that are no longer church-dividing, see Walter Kasper, Harvesting the Fruits: Basic Aspects of Christian Faith in Ecumenical Dialogue (London: Continuum, 2009).

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and seems to pose well-nigh insurmountable obstacles to full unity. On the practical level, the possibility of regular eucharistic sharing (“intercommunion” or communicatio in sacris), which is the fundamental sign and instrument of church union, still remains what it has long been: a strong desideratum. The position of the Catholic Church is that since the Eucharist is a witness to or sign of full ecclesial communion, as long as the churches remain divided, common sharing in the Eucharist must not be allowed. Some theologians however have argued that the Eucharist is also a means to church union and therefore should be regularly practiced to bring it about. Another thorny issue concerns the ecclesial nature of the Protestant churches, that is, whether they are “church” in the theological or “proper” sense. The aforementioned declaration of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith Dominus Iesus (under the leadership of then-­Cardinal Ratzinger) denies that they are, on the ground that they lack valid ordination and hence true Eucharist. It also states that it is a “definitive teaching” that the Anglican orders remain invalid. In its view, possession of the sacrament of orders (or episcopal succession) through the imposition of hands, and hence true Eucharist, is the conditio sine qua non to qualify as church. However, not all churches maintain that apostolic succession should be understood as “tactile succession” (the imposition of hands of the co-consecrators on the ordinand), and historians seriously doubt whether the historical chain of “tactile succession” can be proved with certainty in all cases, even in the churches that claim to possess apostolic succession. This means that the validity (and not merely the licitness) of ordination should be rethought theologically, especially in the case of the Anglican Church. (After 1931, Anglican and Old Catholic bishops agreed to share in each others’ episcopal ordinations. This would arguably make Pope Leo XIII’s 1896 declaration Apostolicae Curae that the Anglican orders are “absolutely null and utterly void” moot now since the Catholic Church recognizes the validity of episcopal ordination in the Old Catholic Church. The Vatican denies that this argument is valid.) These historical, theological, and canonical reflections on apostolic succession are no doubt very complex and require a high degree of scholarly expertise to argue for or against. But they also sound arcane and even irrelevant for most Christians, who are more concerned about how to live a holy life and how their churches (including their spiritual leaders) can help them do so than about whether their local bishop (if they have one) has been validly ordained through a historical chain of layings-on of

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hands. Not rarely, questions, both doctrinal and practical, that seem to be matters of life and death to theologians and ecclesiastical hierarchs are simply non-­issues to most grassroots Christians. The Catholic Church’s official teaching that, for example, the Baptist Churches are not “church in the proper sense” would be, I submit, perceived by them not so much offensive as, well, irrelevant. And if the Baptists are told that full communion with the Catholic Church will not be achieved unless they recognize that they are not “church,” they may, reasonably, say, “Thanks but no thanks.” No wonder that ecumenical unity is not ranking very high in the minds of most Christians, including Roman Catholics. This does not mean that apostolic succession is not important for church life. Rather it means that it must be reconceptualized in connection with the other three “marks” of the true church, that is, unity, holiness, and catholicity. Now, while holiness and catholicity can be easily understood, what is meant by the oneness of the church is by no means obvious. True, Jesus prayed for the unity of the church (John 17: 21), but tragically, the church has been divided, and for a long time. How is the church to become one again? How can apostolicity promote unity, holiness, and catholicity, and vice versa? The “return of dissidents to the Roman Catholic Mother Church” model, which had been normative until Vatican II, is no longer acceptable. In its place, the council proposes “full communion” as the ultimate goal of ecumenical dialogue. To achieve full communion, all churches, including the Catholic Church, must undergo a genuine and radical conversion to be authentically the Church of Christ. But does full communion require a visible and institutional “single system of communication,” with a unified profession of faith, sharing of sacraments, common ministry, under the juridical authority of the papacy (the “organic model”)? Or does it demand only “unity in reconciled diversity,” that is, a communion of churches that retain their distinct and diverse traditions (such as married priesthood and woman ordination) and autonomous decision-making structures? No doubt, the “organic model” is the preferable ideal. However, all things considered, the “reconciled diversity” model is the more realistic and feasible one. For the sake of Christian mission, so that the world may believe that Jesus has been sent by God and the church may become a credible witness to God’s kingdom, should not this model of

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“reconciled diversity,” which encourages a legitimate variety in all things, be realized as far as and as soon as possible?14 With regard to interfaith dialogue, the unity that is sought among the various religions is not as integral and far-reaching as ecumenical unity. Its goal is not to unite all the world religions into some sort of one global religion. Rather it is, first of all, to prevent religions from becoming a source of violence and hatred, to removing mutual misunderstandings and prejudices, and to promoting a greater appreciation of the various religious traditions. Ideally, it is to bring about religious harmony, which does not aim at abolishing difference and variety but rather at enriching one’s own religious heritage by means of others’. The essential purpose of interreligious dialogue is the building of global justice and peace. To achieve this goal, interreligious dialogue is being carried out on four different levels: common life, collaboration for a better world, theological exchange, and sharing of religious experience. Part of this dialogue is the judgment one makes regarding other religions. Today it seems neither possible nor necessary to maintain that one’s religion is the only true one (“exclusivism”), or that all religions are equally valid spiritual paths (“pluralism”), or that the truths and values of other religions are ultimately derived from one’s own religion (“inclusivism”). All these three theologies of religions, the last one currently being held by the Catholic Church and by many Catholic theologians, presume to judge the other religions in the light of one’s own theological criteria. Their greatest defect is the failure to appreciate the “otherness” of various religions and to view them on their own terms. Currently, the Catholic Church teaches that Christianity (or more precisely, the Catholic Church) is the only “way of salvation” and that other believers, if they are saved at all, are somehow, mysteriously, “related” to the church and that their salvation is brought about by Christ (LG, 16). As with the Catholic Church’s current teaching that churches with no “apostolic succession” are not church in the proper sense, its claim that non-Christian believers are “mysteriously” related to the Catholic Church and that their salvation is wrought by Christ will, I suspect, be greeted by them with a polite shrug of the shoulders or a bemused rolling of eyes: “We are doing fine by ourselves, thank you very much.” 14  For a new strategy for ecumenical engagement, known as “receptive ecumenism,” see Paul D. Murray, ed., Receptive Ecumenism and the Call to Catholic Learning: Exploring a Way for Contemporary Ecumenism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008).

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Not that the church is not entitled to making such a claim; nor, for that matter, is the church the only one to make such a claim. In the Bhagavad Gita (a Hindu sacred book), Lord Krishna says that whoever seeks truth and worships rightly seeks Him and worships Him.15 Similarly, the Dhammapada (a Buddhist scripture) states that the way taught by the Buddha is the only right path.16 Furthermore, not all religions propose “salvation” as the ultimate aim of human life; consequently, for those who do not seek “salvation,” the claim of the church to be the only way of salvation is neither true nor false; it simply makes no sense or is utterly irrelevant. In our contemporary context of religious pluralism, marked by diversity and conflicting truth-claims, it seems that another way toward interreligious harmony must be found other than either asserting, ever louder, that one’s religion, Christianity or otherwise, is the absolutely unique, universal and necessary way of salvation, or abandoning such a claim in a mindless surrender to the “dictatorship of relativism” (which no religion is willing to do). The way forward seems to be a deep intellectual and spiritual humility (or self-emptying, like Christ’s) that compels one to recognize, gratefully and gracefully, that one’s religion offers a true but ever partial insight into reality, and that the other religions can and do correct, complement, enhance, and perfect one’s own.17 Finally, regarding the long-term future of ecumenical and interreligious dialogues, it is impossible to ignore or downplay the impact for Pope Francis. It is too early to assess the legacy of Francis’s pontificate, even if there has been a veritable cottage industry in publications on his life, thought, and work. There are of course papal quasi-hagiographies by those who welcome Francis as a breath of fresh air and a harbinger of freedom after the long period of “restoration” under his two immediate predecessors. On the other hand, no recent pope has met with so much 15  See The Bhagavad-Gı ̄tā: A New Translation, trans. Georg Feuerstein (Boulder, CO: Shambala, 2011), chapter 9, verses, 26–30. 16  See The Dhammapada, trans. John Ross Carter and Mahinda Paliwadana (New York: Oxford University Press, 1987), chapter 20, verses 273–275. 17  For helpful studies of Vatican II’s attitude toward non-Christian religions, see Charles L. Cohen, Paul F. Knitter, and Ulrich Rosenhagen, eds, The Future of Interreligious Dialogue: A Multireligious Conversation on Nostra Aetate (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2017) and Pim Valkenberg and Anthony Cirellli, eds., Nostra Aetate: Celebrating 50 Years of the Catholic Church’s Dialogue with Jews and Muslims (Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America Press, 2016).

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opposition, open and vitriolic, from the upper echelon of the hierarchy, some lodged within the secure walls of the Roman Curia, as Pope Francis. They cleverly challenged Francis’s teaching on marriage and the family by presenting their dissent as dubia calling for “clarifications” from Francis. One archbishop even publicly called for Francis’s resignation on the ground that he had allegedly covered up clergy sexual abuse. The height of irony and hypocrisy is that had any theologian expressed such opposition to Francis’s two immediate predecessors, these very same self-­ appointed custodians of papal infallibility and primacy would have condemned that theologian with lightning speed.18 This brief mention of the fierce and relentless opposition to Pope Francis raises the question: What do Francis’s enemies find so threatening in him? The answer is his vision of the church. Francis explains it with a dream in his apostolic exhortation The Joy of the Gospel (Evangelii Gaudium): I dream of a “missionary option,” that is, a missionary impulse capable of transforming everything, so that the Church’s customs, ways of doing things, times and schedules, language and structures can be suitably channeled for the evangelization of today’s world rather than for her self-­ preservation. The renewal of structures demanded by pastoral conversion can only be understood in this light: as part of an effort to make them more mission-oriented, to make ordinary pastoral activity on every level more inclusive and open, to inspire in pastoral workers a constant desire to go forth and in this way elicit a positive response from all those whom Jesus summons to friendship with him.19

One of Francis’s arresting images for the church is a “field hospital”: “The thing the church needs most today is the ability to heal wounds and to warm the hearts of the faithful; it needs nearness, proximity. I see the 18  For an account of the opposition to Pope Francis within and without the church, see Christopher Lamb, The Outsider: Pope Francis and His Battle to Reform the Church (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2010). Opposition is made particularly against three writings of Francis: Evangelii gaudium (on the church and its mission), Laudato si’ (on the environment), and Amoris laetitia (on love in the family). 19  The Joy of the Gospel (The Vatican: Libreria Editrice Vatican, 2013), no. 27. Helpful commentaries on The Joy of the Gospel include: Duncan Dormor & Alana Harris, eds., Pope Francis, Evangelii Gaudium, and the Renewal of the Church (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 2017) and Pope Francis, Go Forth: Towards a Community of Missionary Disciples, Commentary by William P. Gregory (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2019).

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church as a field hospital after battle. It is useless to ask a seriously injured person if he has high cholesterol and about the level of his blood sugars! You have to heal his wounds. Then we can talk about everything else. Heal the wounds, heal the wounds. … And you have to start from the ground up.”20 One of the most painful wounds of the church is the broken relationship among Christian Churches and the other is the hostility among the religions of the world. While Francis’s enemies would tolerate ecumenical dialogue provided that the Catholic Church is proclaimed to be the only true church of Christ, they cannot countenance interreligious dialogue, which, in their view, endangers what they take to be dogma, namely, that Christianity is the only true religion. They particularly took offense at the Document on Human Fraternity for World Peace and Living Together, which Francis signed with Ahmed el-Tayeb, the Grand Imam of Al-Azhar, on February 4, 2019, in which it is said that “the pluralism and the diversity of religions, color, sex, race, and language are willed by God in His wisdom, through which He created human beings.”21 For them, the diversity and plurality of religions is the result of human sins and not a divine blessing. Earlier, in his Magna Carta on the church (The Joy of the Gospel), Pope Francis says about interreligious dialogue: Non-Christians, by God’s gracious initiative, when they are faithful to their own conscience, can live “justified by the grace of God,” and thus be “associated to the paschal mystery of Jesus Christ.” But due to the sacramental dimension of sanctifying grace, God’s working in them tends to produce signs and rites, sacred expressions which in turn bring others to a communitarian experience of journeying toward God. While these lack the meaning and efficacy of the sacraments instituted by Christ, they can be channels 20  Interview with the Pope Francis by Fr. Antonio Spadaro, S.J., editor in chief of Civiltà Cattolica. See its English text: “A Big Heart Open to God,” America (September, 30, 2013). On Pope Francis’s theology of the church, see the following works among legions: Massimo Faggioli, Pope Francis: Tradition in Transition (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 2015); Massimo Faggioli, The Liminal Papacy of Pope Francis: Moving toward Global Catholicity (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2020); Rafael Luciani, Pope Francis and the Theology of the People, trans. Phillip Berryman (Maryknoll. NY: Orbis Books, 2017); and Paul Crowley, ed., From Vatican II to Pope Francis: Charting a Catholic Future (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2014). 21  https://vaticannews.va/en/pope/news/2019-02/pope-francis-uae-declaration-withazhar-grang-imam.html. Emphasis added.

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which the Holy Spirit raises up in order to liberate non-Christians from atheistic immanentism or from purely individual religious experiences. The same Spirit everywhere brings forth various forms of practical wisdom which help people to bear suffering and to live in greater peace and harmony. As Christians, we can also benefit from these treasures built up over many centuries, which can help us better to live our own faith.22

As for the ecumenical dialogue, Pope Francis sees it not as an intra-­ecclesial and self-referential issue but as a function of the church’s service to the world: “Ecumenism can be seen as a contribution to the unity of the human family.”23 Furthermore, ecumenical unity serves to strengthen the credibility and effectiveness of evangelization: “Commitment to a unity which helps them [non-Christians] to accept Jesus Christ can no longer be a matter of mere diplomacy or forced compliance, but rather an indispensable path to evangelization.”24 The road to full communion and interreligious harmony is still arduous and challenging. The Catholic Church had come a long way at Vatican II. In the past 50 years it has embarked on a zigzagging but irreversible course. Whither from here cannot be predicted with certainty, but there are helpful signposts. Along the way, the ancient motto should remain the norm: “Let there be unity in what is necessary, freedom in what is doubtful, and charity in everything.” (The Latin sounds much more elegant: In necessariis unitas, in dubiis libertas, in omnibus caritas).25

22  The Joy of the Gospel, no. 254. On this teaching of Francis, see Peter C. Phan, The Joy of Religious Pluralism: A Personal Journey (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2017), 159–164. Pope Francis pays special attention to the dialogue with Judaism and Islam (see The Joy of the Gospel, nos. 247–249 for dialogue with Judaism and nos. 252–254 for dialogue with Islam). 23  The Joy of the Gospel, no. 245. 24  Ibid., no. 246. 25  This maxim, misattributed to St. Augustine, was quoted by Pope John XXII in his first encyclical Ad Petri cathedram (1959) and by Vatican II in Gaudium et spes, no. 62 (1965).

Index1

A Adrian of Utrecht, 225, 226 Afanasiev, Nicholas, 148 Afghanistan, 56 Agamben, Giorgio, 4, 67–82 Albrecht of Brandenburg, 225 Anglican Consultative Council, 43 Anti-Defamation League (ADL), 94 Anti-Semitism, 19, 125n5 Apostolicae Curae, 269 Appiah, Kwame Anthony, 90 Aquinas, Thomas, 32, 41, 195, 196, 205 Articles of Schmalkalden, 43 Augustine of Hippo (Augustine/Augustinianism) Nationalism, 79

B Badiou, Alain, 78, 79 Baptism, 128n14, 128n15, 135n28, 148, 195, 202, 210, 246, 248, 263 Bartel, Horst, 52–54 Barth, Karl, 79, 125, 193, 194, 194n4, 200, 204, 205, 208n19 Bartolomé de Las Casas, 7, 221, 223 Bea, Augustin, 125n5, 244 Becraft, Anne Marie, 236 Bellarmine, Robert, 4, 5, 109–122 Benedict XVI, Pope, 40, 41, 130, 130n20, 164, 165 Benjamin, Walter, 69, 71, 72, 77 Bernard of Clairvaux, 39 Berry, Thomas, 162 Bhagavad Gita, 91, 272 Bismarck, Otto von, 55, 56

 Note: Page numbers followed by ‘n’ refer to notes.

1

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 G. Mannion et al. (eds.), Ecumenical Perspectives Five Hundred Years After Luther’s Reformation, Pathways for Ecumenical and Interreligious Dialogue, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-68360-3

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278 

INDEX

Bonhoeffer, Dietrich, 203–207, 213–215 Breivik, Anders, 4, 83–105 Brendler, Gerhard, 46, 52, 53, 55, 56 British Israelism, 93n25, 94 Bugenhagen, Johannes, 185 Bultmann, Rudolf, 79 C Calvin, John, 6, 43, 171, 188, 188n26, 205 Cenkner, William, 162 Charles V Habsburg, 20 Chenu, Marie-Dominique, 215 Christian Democratic Union, 57 Christian Identity movement, 90 Church of the Creator, 94–97 Cisneros, Jimenez de, 224, 225 Civil Rights Movement, 233 Clergy sexual abuse, 273 Clinton, Bill, 234 Coates, Ta-Nehisi, 234 Cochläus, Johannes, 37 Cone, James, 231 Congar, Yves, 131n21, 215 Corrêa de Oliveira, Plinio, 84 Council of Florence, 264 Council of Trent, 5, 39, 109, 110, 115, 134, 134n26, 166, 187, 188, 188n26, 253, 261 Cristóbal del Río, 226 Critchley, Simon, 4, 69, 74–80 Crow, Jim, 233 Cullman, Oscar, 252 D Delp, Alfred, 203 Denifle, Heinrich, 38 Dhammapada, 272 Diet of Worms, 47

Döllinger, Ignaz von, 38 Dominus Iesus, 164, 267, 269 Donoso Cortés, Juan, 84 Douglas, Mary, 267 Du Bois, W. E. B., 90 Dürrenmatt, Friedrich, 46 E Ecclesiology, 5, 7, 40, 132, 138–160, 195–197, 200–202, 204–208, 213–215 Eck, Johannes, 46 El Cid, 100 el-Tayeb, Ahmed, 274 Engels, Friedrich, 46, 52, 53 Erdoğan, Recep Tayyip, 84 Evangelical Church in Germany (EKD), 48, 50, 58, 141 Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA), 163, 168, 247n17, 256n33 Evangelii gaudium, 128n12, 273 Evdokimov, Paul, 148, 149 Evola, Julius, 4, 83–105 F Faith and Order, 162 Fascism, 89, 90, 90n13, 92, 96 Federation of Protestant Churches (BEK), 48, 60–62, 61n49 Feuerbach, Ludwig, 35 Florovsky, Georges, 146n13, 148, 149 Ford, Gerald, 234 Formula concordiae, 31 Francis, Pope, 6–8, 41, 124, 128n12, 130, 144, 167, 168, 202, 240, 246, 248, 249, 252, 255, 258, 272–275, 273n18, 275n22 Francisco de Bobadilla, 224

 INDEX 

Frederick the Great, 55 Frederick the Wise, 174, 176 Friedrich, David, 185, 186 G Gaudium et spes, 262, 275n25 Georgetown University, 6, 7, 162, 168, 220, 233–237 German Democratic Republic (GDR), 3, 4, 36, 45–65 Great Awakening, 231 Gregory XIII, Pope, 117, 117n28 Gutiérrez, Gustavo, 229 Guy Fawkes, 232 Gysi, Klaus, 49, 59, 62 H Harms, Claus, 35 Harnack, Adolph von, 33, 79 Hegel, Georg W. F., 33–35, 193 Herzl, Theodor, 136, 136n29 Himmler, Heinrich, 90 Hinduism, 91 Hobbes, Thomas, 76 Hobbs, R. Gerald, 111 Hobsbawm, Eric, 4, 84–86 Holl, Karl, 36 Holy and Great Orthodox Council (2016), 140 Honecker, Erich, 46–53, 51n13, 57, 57n37, 59–64 Honecker, Margot, 60 Hooft, Willem Visser ‘t, 126 Human rights, 3, 13, 20, 21, 26–28, 26n20 Huntington, Samuel, 88, 88n7

279

I Index of Prohibited Books, 5, 110, 116–121 Isaac, Jules, 126 Isabella of Castile, 222 Islam, 87, 99–101, 103, 140, 267, 268, 275n22 Islamism, 4, 84, 102 Islamophobia, 19 Israel, 5, 16, 19, 21, 25, 93, 94, 99, 120, 124–138, 125n4, 126n7, 265, 267 J Jackson, Andrew, 234 James, King, 93 John of the Cross, 21 John XXIII, Pope, 125, 127n9, 130n20, 165, 243, 245n12, 248 Joint Commission for Theological Dialogue (1981), 141 Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification, 7, 164, 243, 249, 250, 254, 265 Josephus, 116, 121 Judaism, 14, 16–18, 124–126, 126n8, 127n9, 128n12, 129, 132, 136–138, 275n22 Junge, Martin, 241 Jüngel, Eberhard, 200, 202, 210 K Kalliala, Kaarlo, 249 Karadžić, Radovan, 102–104 Kasper, Walter, 226, 228, 246, 256 Kierkegaard, Søren, 79 King, Martin Luther, Jr., 227, 228 Kirchentag, 63

280 

INDEX

Klassen, Ben, 94–98 Knights Templar International (KTI), 101, 102 Kreisau Circle, 203 Kuczynski, Jürgen, 60 L Laube, Adolf, 59, 64 Lazar of Serbia, 102, 103 Lehman, Hartmut, 53 Lenin, Vladimir, 52 Leo X, Pope, 155, 164, 226 Leo XIII, Pope, 269 Leuenberg Conference, 127n12 Lincoln, Abraham, 234 Lortz, Joseph, 38–40 Lucas Cranach the Elder, 6, 46, 176 Lucas Cranach the Younger, 176, 176n4, 180 Lumen gentium, 138, 196, 214, 262 Luther, Martin, 2–7, 11, 12, 14, 15, 19–24, 28–65, 67–82, 96, 133–135, 139, 155, 163, 171–189, 199, 201, 220–228, 230, 242, 245, 246, 249, 253 Lutheran World Federation (LWF), 7, 40, 41, 43, 58, 141, 142, 198, 202, 240, 243, 246, 250, 255 M Madison, James, 234 Maistre, Joseph de, 84 Maritain, Jacques, 90n13 Martel, Charles, 100 Martin Luther Committee (GDR), 46, 51, 57, 59 Marx, Karl, 35, 45, 52 Marxist-Leninism, 53 McSherry, William, 235 Melanchthon, Philip, 5, 31, 140, 172, 176, 177, 181, 182, 184, 185

Mennonites, 199, 202 Merkle, Sebastian, 38 Metropolitan Filaret, 58 Metropolitan Gennadios of Sassima, 142 Michael II Palaiologos, 268 Milošević, Slobodan, 102 Modi, Narendra, 84 Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact, 71 Moltmann, Jürgen, 227, 228 Montesino, Antonio, 7, 221–225, 230, 231 More, Thomas, 225 Mortalium animos, 263 Mount Athos, 147, 147n16 Mulledy, Thomas, 235 Müntzer, Thomas, 46, 55, 57, 59 Mussolini, Benito, 90 Mysos, Demetrios, 140 N National Action, 100 National Council of Churches USA for Faith and Order, 162 Nationalism, 13, 19, 23, 36, 84, 85, 88, 99, 105, 153–156 National Socialism, 26, 90n13, 102 NATO, 56 Nazism, see National Socialism Newman, John Henry, 94 Nicholas of Lyra, 116 Nissiotis, Nikos, 152, 153 Nominalism, 39 Nostra aetate, 8, 122, 125–126, 126n6, 126n8, 130, 165, 167, 168, 207, 262 O Obama, Barack, 234 O’Malley, John, 109, 166, 260 O’Meara, Thomas, 35

 INDEX 

Orthodox, 2, 4, 5, 6, 38, 58, 84, 87, 88n7, 102, 103, 129, 139–159, 162, 185, 265, 266, 268 Ottoman Empire, 102 P Pannenberg, Wolfhart, 200 Pan-Orthodox Congress in Constantinople (1923), 147 Patriarch Athenagoras, 265 Patriarch Jeremias II, 140 Patriarch Joasaph II of Constantinople, 140 Paul, 3, 4, 11–28, 67–82, 102, 135–137, 148, 153, 155, 174, 177, 179, 199, 200, 209, 213, 220, 227, 230, 237, 241, 244, 245, 248, 258, 265, 267 Paul II, Pope John, 124, 128n14, 245, 261n2, 265, 267, 268 Paul IV, Pope, 114, 118n28 Peasants’ War of 1525, 46, 52, 53, 55, 57 Pedro de Cordoba, 222, 223 PEGIDA, 100, 100n41 People’s Republic of China, 58 Pius X, Pope, 136, 136n29 Pius XI, Pope, 263 Pius XII, Pope, 39, 122, 127n9 Poland, 155, 156 Pontifical Biblical Commission, 127n12, 135n27 Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue, 126, 167, 255n32, 267 Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity, 123n1, 126, 156n34, 243, 255, 262n4, 265 Putin, Vladimir, 84, 155

281

Q Quevedo, Juan de, 226 Qur’an, 25, 267 R Racial Holy War (RaHoWa), 95, 97 Rahner, Karl, 196, 215 Rashi (Solomon Ben Isaac), 113, 115, 118, 120 Reconciliation, 7, 123, 124, 130, 131, 137n31, 169, 192–216, 205n14, 219–237, 242, 244, 245, 247, 253, 254, 258 Reformation Day, 32, 41, 227, 247 Richard the Lionheart, 100 Ricoeur, Paul, 199 Robinson, Gene, 267 Runcie, Robert, 58, 61 Russia, 84, 89, 94, 100, 145, 153, 154, 156, 157 Russian Orthodox Church, 58, 141, 156 S Sadler, John, 93 Schleiermacher, Friedrich, 92, 185 Schmidt, Walter, 53, 54 Schmitt, Carl, 71, 72, 75, 84 Scholasticism, 32 Second Vatican Council, 8, 26, 35, 39, 122, 124, 125, 125n5, 129n18, 130, 134, 145n12, 152, 164–166, 168, 188, 195–197, 200, 205–207, 211, 214–216, 243–245, 245n12, 249, 252, 258–275 Seelisberg Conference (1947), 126 Semmelroth, Otto, 196, 215 Siege of Vienna, 20

282 

INDEX

Sigurd the Crusader, 100 Skorka, Abraham, 252 Slavery, 33, 95, 220–222, 226, 229–231, 233–236 Sobieski, John III, 100 Socialist Unity Party (SED), 3, 46–53, 49n7, 56, 57, 59–64 Society of Jesus, 234–236 Society of Saint Pius X, 130, 131 Soviet Union, 71n14 Spelman, Henry, 93 Staniloae, Dumitru, 148, 149 State of exception, 71, 72, 74–76 Steinmetz, Max, 52 Stransky, Thomas, 165, 166 Sturzo, Luigi, 90, 90n13 Syllabus errorum, 26 T Talmud, 5, 113–115, 118n28, 121 Tarrant, Brenton, 4, 100, 104, 105 Tauler, Johann, 39 Taylor, Charles, 194 Teinonen, Seppo A., 249 Tersteegen, Gerhard, 24 Tetzel, Johann, 39 Theological Declaration of Barmen (1934), 126 Theresa of Avila, 21, 24 Ting, K. H., 58 Traditionalism, 84n1, 90, 92, 105 U Ukraine, 154 Union of Brest, 156 Unitatis redintegratio (UR), 8, 112, 152, 262–264

United Nations, 61 United States Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB), 6, 162–164 V Vatican II, see Second Vatican Council Vlad the Impaler, 100 Volf, Miroslav, 193, 194, 197, 200, 204, 205 W Warsaw Pact, 57 Washington, George, 234 Werbick, Jürgen, 200 Whitaker, William, 115, 116 White Aryan Resistance, 96, 97 Willebrands, Johannes, 40, 58, 245, 246 Williams, Delores, 233 Workers’ Youth League (AUF), 98 World Council of Churches (WCC), 6, 49, 58, 125n4, 126, 127n10, 137, 145, 147–152, 147n17, 148n18, 159, 200, 244, 262n4, 266 New Delhi Assembly, 127, 149 World Day of Prayer for Peace, 267, 268 Y Yad Vashem, 267 Younan, Munib, 202, 240, 246, 255 Z Zehner, Joachim, 203–207 Žižek, Slavoj, 78, 79