The Reformation 36: Luther's Friends and Enemies

Thanks to wholesale and generally unauthorized publication of Luther’s 95 theses of 1517—which, thanks to the printing press, had reached as far as the attention of Henry VIII in England and Erasmus of Rotterdam within a year—the authorities in Rome became aware of its “German problem” and began to generate a response.  The actual date remains unknown. Technically speaking, the Curia was formally notified of Luther’s writings by his local bishop, Albrecht of Mainz, who sought papal advice when his own university advisors stepped back from the controversial issues in play. But it is very likely that Johannes Tetzel, the Dominican whose indulgence crusade had stirred the ire of Luther in the first place, was reporting circumstances to Rome in a fashion certainly unfavorable to Luther. Tetzel, in fact, had already published his own retort to Luther, arguing that his foe was simply a disobedient cleric.
 
Rome, eventually apprised, took the simple position that Luther must recant his theses, and assigned the response to a Dominican curial official, Sylvester Prierias. His response, which he bragged he had written in three days, is an excellent template of the most unfortunate miscommunication that would mark all of Luther’s subsequent dealings with Rome. Prierias did not address any of Luther’s theological concerns but focused instead upon the simple question of obedience. The Dominican wrote “He who does not accept the Doctrine of the Church of Rome and pontiff of Rome, as an infallible rule of faith, from which the Holy Scriptures, too, draw their strength and authority, is a heretic.” (Metaxas, pp. 133ff)
 
Over three centuries later the council Vatican I (1869-1870) would define the precise workings of papal authority and declare the pope infallible in certain prescribed circumstances. Theologians of the twentieth century would judge Prierias’ working definition of papal authority as “creeping infallibility” or the tendency to regard everything spoken by the pope to be infallible. (The “creeping infallibility” debate evidently continues to this day.) Luther never denied the power of the pope, and early in the Reformation he hoped that the pope himself would hear his case. The Vatican, time and again, would avoid direct discussion of the issues of reform and identify Luther as a disobedient son who needed to bring his thinking into conformity with the office of the papacy.
 
Prierias dashed off his rebuttal to Luther with a summons to appear in Rome in 60 days. Luther found Prierias’ arguments [or better, argument, since obedience seemed to be the only agenda] dumbfounding, almost humorous. He eventually responded to his Dominican opponent, and in doing so, he introduced Scripture into his defense for the first time. “Like an insidious devil you pervert the Scriptures. You say that the Church consists virtually in the pope.” [p. 134] It is easy to look back with the hindsight of history and postulate that history might have evolved differently had a more civil and academic approach been taken by Rome, for in 1518 this was exactly what Luther wanted to do, plead his case before the pope and his academics.
 
Had this controversy occurred two centuries earlier {John Wycliffe) or even one century earlier (Jan Hus), the matter would have been relatively easily solved—Rome would instruct the civil ruler of the place to seize a suspected heretic and deliver him or her to appropriate trial and possible imprisonment or death. But the playing field in 1518 was more complex; Luther concluded his hard correspondence with Prierias with a not-so-subtle reminder: “You make the pope into an emperor in power and violence. The Emperor Maximilian and the Germans will not tolerate this.” [p. 134]
 
Luther, to his good fortune, enjoyed a reasonably good relationship with the most powerful civil ruler in his region, the elector Frederick III of Saxony (1463-1525), known as “Frederick the Wise.” Luther’s story cannot be told without Frederick, who respected Luther as a scholar. It is ironic that Frederick agreed with Luther’s position on indulgences; the elector possessed a large collection of relics (thousands, according to various sources) for which he charged visitors and tourists fees for access, and he believed that the indulgence crusades were cutting into his profit margins.  
 
The papal court, in its dealings with Luther, was careful to tread lightly with Frederick, who with other princes in German lands was growing fatigued of papal taxes, particularly a levy to raise an army to halt the advance of the Turks in Eastern Europe. Moreover, Frederick held a vote in an upcoming congress to elect a new emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, an election with vital papal interests, and there was concern in Rome to curry favor with Frederick for his vote. Frederick himself, in his dealings with Luther and Rome, seems to have understood his dilemma (as well as the reasons his university advisors had shied away from going on record, one way or the other.)
 
Under demand to appear in Rome, Luther feared that he would not get a fair hearing, and more to the point that he might be arrested and burned at the stake. On the other hand, he welcomed the opportunity to put forward his belief in the act of dive justification, the preeminence of Scripture, and the need for reform. Metaxas believes that at this juncture of his life Luther came to grips with the idea that he might become a martyr for his reform mission and made spiritual peace in trusting God, ready to accept whatever fate lie ahead in God’s providence.
 
In August 1518 Frederick decided to keep Luther safe in Saxony and successfully lobbied the Emperor Maximilian to cancel the order for Luther to appear in Rome. Luther would be judged in his homeland. Maximilian was not enamored with Luther, but he was favorable to the request on the grounds that it was advisable to remind Italians that there were limits on their power. As it happened, a regional meeting (or “diet”) was scheduled for September 1518 at Augsburg. Cardinal Cajetan would be participating as Vatican representative, and the Emperor Maximilian (no less opposed to Luther) determined that the Augsburg gathering would be an ideal time for Luther to face the Vatican directly for assessment and judgment. He ordered that Luther attend the Diet of Augsburg and address the full force of Church authority for the first time.