It’s remarkable to think that such an insignificant event as nailing a document containing a list of propositions for an academic disputation would be remembered and celebrated five-hundred years later, but millions of Protestants around the world are commemorating the Reformation this year. Even non-religious organizations are taking an interest in the commemoration.

You may have seen the film that PBS released earlier this month (September) entitled “Martin Luther: The Idea that Changed the World.” PBS observed that the Reformation was “one of the most important events in Western civilization,” one that gave birth to “an idea that continues to shape the life of every American today.”

According to PBS, “the Protestant Reformation changed Western culture at its core, sparking the drive toward individualism, freedom of religion, women’s rights, separation of church and state, and even free public education. Without the Reformation, there would have been no pilgrims, no Puritans, and no America in the way we know it.”

One wonders how the religious concerns of a single monk could start a movement that would eventually bring about such radical changes in Western civilization. One might wonder whether PBS has overstated the significance of the Reformation. Are they sensationalizing the Reformation in order to stimulate public interest and excitement simply to increase their viewership?

To claim that the Reformation “changed Western culture at its core” and that without the Reformation there would be “no America in the way we know it” might sound a bit overhyped to some people. But in my opinion, it’s not overhyped at all. In fact, I think in some ways it trivializes the Reformation.

If the greatest achievement of the Reformation was that it radically changed Western civilization and culture, then of course, it would be worth remembering for its historical relevance, but it would ultimately have no relevance for the kingdom of God. Like the American Revolution, the Civil War, or Apollo 11 landing on the moon, it would be worthy of study for its historical value but not because it concerned something of eternal significance.

Whatever effect it may or may not have had on Western culture, the Reformation deserves our attention because it concerns something of infinite value and eternal significance. The Reformation deserves our attention—not because it enables us to understand the course of Western civilization and, therefore, helps us to make sense of the world in which we live—but because it points us beyond this world to the world to come. In other words, we are celebrating the 500^th anniversary of the Reformation not because of its earthly significance but because of its heavenly significance.

The Reformation was not ultimately about an “idea that changed the world” but about a rediscovery of the One who Redeemed the world, the Lord Jesus Christ, who is revealed in the gospel. The Protestant Reformation was not ultimately a sociological or cultural phenomenon but a theological one. To be sure, the Reformation of the Church was intertwined with political, social, and cultural concerns, but the Reformation was inherently a theological matter. And therefore, it should not be interpreted as a merely human event.

The Protestant Reformation was a purification of the church of the Lord Jesus Christ. And the church is not an institution of man; it’s a creation of God through the gospel. And the preservation of the church—its continued existence and its faithfulness to the Holy Scriptures—is not a work of man but of God. To be sure, it’s a work of God in which people like Martin Luther and John Calvin participated, but it’s a work of God nonetheless.

So to understand the Reformation, we must begin with what God has accomplished in the Person and work of Jesus Christ in redemptive history and consider the application of that redemptive work by the agency of the Holy Spirit who uses the ordinances of the church to form us into a heavenly kingdom and bring us into a state of glory in which we will enjoy for all eternity unceasing, consummative communion and fellowship with the Triune God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

The Reformation was a rediscovery of the good news of our salvation in Jesus Christ. And that’s why the Reformation deserves our attention.

Drawing primarily from Amy Nelson Burnett’s article, “Academic Heresy, the Reuchlin Affair, and the Control of Theological Discourse in the Early Sixteenth Century,” I want to consider the background that paved the way for the controversy surrounding Luther’s 95 Theses.[1]

Academic Condemnation

Robert Grosseteste (1175-1253) defined heresy as “a statement chosen by human opinion, contrary to holy Scripture, and pertinaciously defended.” Both parts of that definition are important. The first reveals a failing of the intellect, while the second a failing of the will. A distinction is then made between “heretical teaching” and “heretical individuals.” A person may teach or write something in error, but it was not until they refused to recant and submit to the authority of the church that they themselves were deemed a “heretic.”

“Academic Condemnation” was a process aimed at heretical teaching, carried out by either the theological faculty of a university or the papal curia. “It effectively placed the determination of heresy in the hands of specialists in theology and canon law,” which became for them “a powerful mechanism for regulating academic discussion of theological questions” (40). Initially the jurisdiction of these theological faculties didn’t exceed their respective university community, but this changed in the fifteenth century with the introduction of the printing press.

Burnett provides the following example of this expansion:

The Cologne theology faculty also claimed the right of book censorship, and in 1507 it denounced propositions drawn from the published work of the jurist Peter of Ravenna. At a hearing before a commission representing each of the university’s faculties, Peter submitted to the demand to abstain from teaching the questionable doctrine. Within a few months, however, he began a literary feud with the Cologne faculty (40).

This feud has been seen as the impetus for the Reuchlin Affair, in which a similar procedure was followed, but one that would spin out of control. This would in turn pave the way for the initial response to Luther.

Before proceeding, however, it’s important to note that humanists had been vying against the scholastics for a voice in judging theological discourse. As we’ll see, the Reuchlin Affair would become the cause célèbre in pitting these two schools against one another.

The Reuchlin Affair

Johannes Reuchlin penned Augenspiegel (1511) in which he defended his earlier writing that opposed the confiscation of Jewish books against Johann Pfefferkorn. The Cologne theology faculty quickly denounced the book and once Reuchlin learned that some of his statements were theologically suspect, he responded with a letter in which he stressed his submission to the church and his willingness to modify his position where needed. The faculty replied with the suspect propositions, but “refused to identify more precisely what he needed to change in his book” (41). They weren’t interested in a revised Augenspiegel, but Reuchlin’s submission to their authority.

The tension grew between them, and Reuchlin was eventually demanded to publish a retraction to his book. Instead, he took to a public defense of his writing and what ensued was a writing war between him and the faculty in 1512 and 1513. Burnett notes that the true significance of Reuchlin’s Defensio contra calumniatores suos Colonienses (1513) “rests on the fact that it challenged the moral, legal, and intellectual competence of the Cologne theology faculty to judge heresy” and, on a larger scale, “attacked the entire procedure followed in academic condemnation.” Furthermore, Reuchlin’s actions moved the right to judge theological discourse out of the academic sphere into the public forum, which “changed the parameters of the debate entirely” (42).

The affair continued for a number of years, but the important thing to see is that the validity of “academic condemnation” was for the first time brought into serious question along with the competence of scholastic scholars to judge theological discourse. In Reuchlin’s Letters of Obscure Men, he

mocked the eagerness of theologians to label anyone who disagreed with them as heretics and portrayed [his] scholastic opponents, especially Hoogstraeten, as ignorant, vainglorious laughingstocks. Such characterizations fit only too well with Erasmus’ lampooning of theologians in his Praise of Folly, which had already provoked rebuke from the Louvain theologian Martin Dorp (45).

These claims were often well-founded as most scholastics were ignorant of Greek and Hebrew and would misrepresent statements by isolating them from their literary context. The humanists, on the other hand, excelled in these areas. Fred Hall comments on the influence of humanism on Luther, who himself had received scholastic training, and Wittenberg,

At Wittenberg (from 1513), Luther used the classics, the fathers and acclaimed language scholars, Reuchlin (Hebrew) and Erasmus (Greek). He encouraged exegetes to drink deeply from the Scriptures and to criticize the fathers and classics when they neglected the theology of the Scriptures. This principle was foundational for Wittenberg’s “New Theology,” and transformed Wittenberg into a center of biblical humanism.[2]

It is in this environment that Luther published his 95 Theses in 1517.

The Luther Affair

The Reuchlin Affair had undermined the credibility of “academic condemnation,” which was evident in the controversy that followed the publication of Luther’s 95 Theses.

Because the Wittenberg theology faculty supported Luther, denunciation would have to come from outside of Wittenberg. The archbishop of Mainz initiated this process by asking the Mainz theological faculty to evaluate the these and by forwarding them to the papal curia (46).

Just as in the Reuchlin affair, the Luther affair would proceed in two arenas: “the publicist battle in Germany and the legal process in Rome” (47). The question that had been left unanswered by the previous affair was whether a restricted group trained in scholastic theology or the learned public had the right to judge whether a statement was heretical. We can begin to see now why the teaching of Luther and the rest of the Reformers could not be contained by the theological faculties or the Roman church.

A significant and influential public audience now called into question a procedure whereby a relatively small group of academic experts had the authority to police theological discourse and to condemn propositions removed from their context without giving a more detailed rationale for their judgment. In the wake of the Reuchlin affair, charges of academic heresy leveled by scholastic theologians became an object of derision rather than something to be feared. In the second decade of the sixteenth century, theology faculties lost their moral authority to monitor academic discourse in Germany, with fateful consequences for the early Reformation (48).

The Reuchlin affair had created a conducive environment for Luther’s 95 Theses to electrify the world.

For further study on Luther listen to our interview with Carl Trueman on his book Luther on the Christian Life: Cross and Freedom. Also check out our discussion with Trueman on Luther and Media.

[1] Burnett is the Paula and D. V. Varner University Professor of History at University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Her essay can be found in Church and School in Early Modern Protestantism: Studies in Honor of Richard A. Muller on the Maturation of a Theological Tradition.

[2] Hall’s essay is also found in Church and School in Early Modern Protestantism.

A Matter of Eternal Weight

Sola fide (“by faith alone”) is the Reformation’s most notorious doctrine and resides at the core of all Protestant identity. Of course it would be a reductionism to say the Reformers were only concerned with justification by faith alone; nonetheless, it was, in the words of Luther, articulus stantis et cadentis ecclesiae (“the article by which the church stands and falls”). It was here the true church fought the good fight of faith, many even unto martyrdom. The consequence of compromise was not negligible, but carried in its wake the very forfeiture of the power of God for salvation (Rom. 1:16). It was not merely a matter of life and death, but of eternal life and eternal death as it had a direct impact on the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Justification by Faith Alone

The Westminster Larger Catechism defines justification as “an act of God’s free grace unto sinners, in which he pardoneth all their sins, accepteth and accounteth their persons righteous in his sight; not for anything wrought in them, or done by them, but only for the perfect obedience and full satisfaction of Christ, by God imputed to them, and received by faith alone” (70). In a more succinct fashion, Bavinck defines it as “that gracious judicial act of God by which he acquits humans of all the guilt and punishment of sin and confers on them the right to eternal life.” Paul states the matter clearly in Galatians 2:9ff that “a person is not justified by works of the law but through faith in Jesus Christ, so we also have believed in Christ Jesus, in order to be justified by faith in Christ and not by works of the law, because by works of the law no one will be justified.”

Any doctrine of salvation that undermines sola fide by requiring any kind or amount of merit that is not supplied by Christ, must be considered (in the full sense Paul meant it in Philippians 3:8) σκύβαλον—”rubbish” is an understatement. Why must we do this? In order that we may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of our own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith (Phil. 3:8-9).

Calvin compared faith to an “empty vase” that is filled with and only with the righteousness of Christ. Luther said faith “clasps Christ as a ring clasps its jewel.” And by faith we sing, “Nothing in my hand I bring, simply to thy cross I cling.” With these pictures before us, a twin truth emerges. First, by faith we believe that we are truly sinners incapable of saving ourselves, devoid of any work that could contribute to our righteous standing before God. Second, by faith we believe that out of grace God justifies us for Christ’s sake, which brings us to glory in the fullness and wholeness of our Savior whose perfect righteousness has been freely and graciously imputed to us apart from works. Luther would speak of this righteousness of Christ by which sinners are justified as an “alien” righteousness—it is a righteousness not our own. Bavinck summarizes,

Luther’s great discovery about the “righteousness of God” was that it did not apply to God’s righteousness in himself but rather to the righteousness applied to believers through faith in Christ. God’s righteousness does not condemn us but justifies us. We are clothed in Christ’s righteousness. We are not justified by good works, but for good works, by grace. Faith thus believes that we are sinners and that for Christ’s sake we are justified. God’s declaration of righteousness is not a mere sentence God pronounces to himself but brings with it the act of making us righteous in Christ.

The Belgic Confession on Sola Fide: A Whole Savior

The Belgic Confession was forged in the fires of the Reformation primarily by Guido de Brès in early 1561. The Synod of Dort (1618-19) would later adopt the confession as one of the doctrinal standards of the Reformed Churches.[1]

Article 22 (“Our Justification through Faith in Jesus Christ”) opens with a clear explanation of the source and content of faith, both of which serve the glory of God (soli Deo gloria). Its source is the Holy Spirit who “kindles in our hearts an upright faith.” While it is the believer who believes (neither the Spirit nor Christ believes for us), faith is nevertheless the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast (Eph. 2:9). Faith is not a personal achievement, but the end of all boasting before God.

This faith then “embraces Jesus Christ with all His merits, appropriates Him, and seeks nothing more besides him.” With Calvin the confession is clear that “as long as Christ remains outside of us, and we are separated from him, all that he has suffered and done for the salvation of the human race remains useless and is of no value to us.” Because faith embraces Jesus Christ, the question regarding salvation is never, “Is my faith sufficient?” (looking inward to the instrument), but “Is my Savior sufficient? (looking outward to the object). To an overwhelming degree, Christ answers Yes with the fullness of his merits, which he obtained in his life, death and resurrection. Faith does not embrace an abstract, bear or irrelevant Christ, but a Christ who is, in the words of Calvin, “clothed with his gospel” (Institutes, 3.2.6). To look to supplement the merits of Christ in any way is to say that “all things which are requisite to our salvation are not in Jesus Christ.” But by sola fide we say that “those who possess Jesus Christ through faith have complete salvation in Him.” He is not “half a Savior,” but a whole Savior.

Therefore we justly say with Paul, that we are justified by faith alone, or by faith apart from works. However, to speak more clearly, we do not mean that faith itself justifies us, for it is only an instrument with which we embrace Christ our righteousness. But Jesus Christ, imputing to us all His merits, and so many holy works which He has done for us and in our stead, is our righteousness. And faith is an instrument that keeps us in communion with Him in all His benefits, which, when they become ours, are more than sufficient to acquit us of our sins. (Belgic Confession 22)

Sola Fide and the Chief End of Man

Sola fide not only accents the glory of God in salvation, but also affords us assurance of right standing before God in order that we may enjoy him.

Certainly there can be no peace of mind and conscience, no joy in one’s heart, no buoyant moral activity, or a blessed life and death, before the guilt of sin is removed, all fear of punishment has been completely eradicated, and the certainty of eternal life in communion with God fills one’s consciousness with its consolation and power. (Bavinck)

The Belgic Confession puts it this way in article 23:

We always hold fast this foundation, ascribing all the glory to God, humbling ourselves before Him, and acknowledging ourselves to be such as we really are, without presuming to trust in any thing in ourselves, or in any merit of ours, relying and resting upon the obedience of Christ crucified alone, which becomes ours when we believe in Him. This is sufficient to cover all our iniquities, and to give us confidence in approaching God; freeing the conscience of fear, terror, and dread…

We can say then that sola fide complements the chief end of man: to glorify God and enjoy him forever. If justification is by faith alone, then God is to be maximally glorified in our salvation and we are to enjoy the wholeness of our Savior in whom we find eternal life.

For Further Study

• Cornelis Venema, The Gospel of Free Acceptance in Christ.
• Lane Tipton, “Biblical Theology and the Westminster Standards Revisited: Union with Christ and Justification Sola Fide.” Also listen to our interview with him on it.
• There are many helpful articles in Justified in Christ: God’s Plan for Us in Justification.
• P. Y. De Jong’s exposition of articles 22 and 23 of the Belgic Confession in The Church’s Witness to the World.
• Anthony Hoekema’s chapter on justification in Saved by Grace.

[1] For more on the fascinating history of the Belgic Confession see Nicolaas H. Gootjes’ The Belgic Confession: Its History and Sources. See also the introduction of Daniel Hyde’s helpful exposition of the confession, With Heart and Mouth.