§1 Approaching Galatians (session 2, part 2)—Paul’s Letter to the Galatians: A Presbyterian Adult Spiritual Formation Series
[The
following resumes, in medias res, the same session as recounted in the
most recent post in this series.]
In Luther’s
2nd Galatians commentary—and this is common in Calvin, too—he has a section at
the beginning summarizing what he thinks the book is all about. Luther talks
about types of righteousness. His interpretation of Galatians is that it is
teaching us about different types of righteousness. On the one hand, you have
political righteousness and political justice. This is the complicated thing
with the word “righteousness,” in German but also in Greek. It’s righteousness
in what we would call a religious sense, and it’s also “justice” in what we
would call a political sense. Luther also talks about ceremonial righteousness.
He’s thinking here about the sacrificial system in the Hebrew Scriptures. There’s
also legal righteousness or justice, and he’s thinking here specifically about
the 10 Commandments, the “ethical law.” Luther says all
these things are gifts of God: “As are all of the things we have” (p. 4).[1]
He characterizes these kinds of righteousness as active. They are things
you have to do. You have to
do political justice. You have to do ceremonial
justice. You have to do legal justice.
The other
kind of righteousness is passive. It is not something that you do.
This is faith—the righteousness of faith, or Christian righteousness. To quote
him: “For here we work nothing, we do nothing, we render nothing to God; we
only receive” (p. 5). This is our familiar phrase about salvations by grace
through faith, which isn’t anything you have to do.
Luther will still use language like “grasp” or “take hold of.” You have to grasp, with faith, the righteousness that
Christ offers you. You have to take hold of it.
But, in his mind, these are fundamentally passive things. This righteousness smashes
into you, as it were. You grab onto it like a little kid running and jumping
into your arms for a hug. But you’re receiving. You’re not producing something
as in the other kinds of righteousness. As Luther puts it, we “do not perform
but receive.” We “do not have but accept.”
This gets at
the idea that grace or salvation is not something that belongs to us. It’s
something that we get from somewhere else. Luther uses language of “free
imputation” (p. 6). This is a finance or
accounting term. The early modern period saw important developments in
financial instruments and book-keeping, including the development of
“double-entry”—which tracks currency coming in and commodity going out—right at
the turn of the sixteenth century.[2]
The idea that “imputation” trades on is the idea of a divine accountant keeping
track of our spiritual liquidity on the one hand and Jesus’s spiritual
liquidity on the other. Since none of us can produce more righteousness, or
spiritual currency, Luther’s idea is that God—the divine accountant—transfers
that currency from Jesus’s ledger to ours. That’s “free imputation.” It all comes
from God’s side. There is nothing we can do to earn it. It’s just there because
God says it’s there.
It’s
important for reformational theology that this righteousness of faith is there
just because God says it’s there. It is not become embedded in us or a part of
us. In Luther's mind, if it became part of us, it would be something we have.
We would no longer need to get it from God. And some significant debates develop
on this point. The other side of this argument talks about essential righteousness.
This idea is that, through the reception of grace and through the good works
Christians do, they develop an essential righteousness—a righteousness attached
to or residing in their own essence, nature, or being. The basic idea here is
to say: “Once God gives you righteousness, it gets into your soul and you
become righteous to some extent.” Andreas Osiander created a debate about this
in the 1550’s, to which Calvin provided a thorough reply.[3]
Much more recently, way of reading Luther that tends in the same direction as
Osiander developed in Finland.[4]
In fairness, my read is that there are statements that Luther makes especially
early on in his reformational journey that can lend themselves to this kind of
interpretation, but I don’t find it at all a convincing reading of his 1535
Galatians commentary. As Calvin succinctly puts it: “our righteousness is not
in us but in Christ, that we possess it only because we are partakers in Christ.”[5]
Participant: Again, it’s no essential righteousness?
McMaken: Correct, as opposed to free imputation
Participant: And essential righteousness says you receive righteousness
by doing things?
McMaken: It’s the idea that righteousness comes into you and turns
you righteous inside. For Luther, we always remain sinners. We always need the
gift of righteousness from God. For essential righteousness folks, we might
always remain sinners but not as much. It becomes a question of “how much.” Parts
of us have stopped being sinful, or at least they become less and less sinful. Righteousness
is in our essence and we’re getting better. Calvin—an I think he’s being very
faithful to Luther here—argues that if that’s the case, then you need God less.
And he says “No!” to that idea.
Participant: Where does that come from? Were there ideas or examples in
Luther’s time that he was looking at and using to think about these things? Maybe
the relationship between lords and vassals in feudalism?
McMaken: I can't think of anywhere I have seen him say: “God freely
gives righteousness just like lords freely give to their vassals.” But that
doesn’t mean those passages aren’t there. Luther wrote so much.
Participant 1: It would make sense if he did say that. We all use our
culture and our moment in time to explain what we think. So, if that’s what you’re
experiencing at that time, you would use that to explain what you’re
experiencing spiritually. I'm thankful we do that now.
Participant 2: What happened to the Jewish people in Germany and other
countries at that time? We talk about Catholics and Protestants, but what about
the Jewish people?
McMaken: There weren’t many and the ones that were there were increasingly
sequestered in specific districts and “ghettos,” which became far more
widespread of a practice in the early modern period. Jewish folks were
disproportionately involved in the financial side of trade, which is what
generates the antisemitic stereotypes today of Jewish folks being rich and
secretly running the world. During the medieval period, Christians had laws
about how much and what kind of interest they could charge one another. But
those laws didn’t apply to Jews. They could charge steeper interest, which
meant that they could take on different kinds of financial risks and
potentially reap significant rewards. At the same time, Jewish folks in
Christian kingdoms didn’t posses the same legal rights as Christians did. Luther
seems to have started out fairly optimistic that Jews would convert to Christianity
because he had rediscovered the proper pure preaching of the Gospel. Then that
didn’t happen. Later in his life, he says nastier and nastier things about
Jews.
Participant: Luther’s not the first person to do this.
McMaken: No, he’s not.
Participant: “Look, Jews! We fixed Christianity for you. You’re saved
now, right? You’re not? We’re not friends anymore.”
McMaken: He said super nasty things
and they got repeated for centuries around Germany, which undoubtedly
contributed to the social situation that produced the Shoah.
Participant: It’s so pertinent because what we think and what we
believe is so influenced by other people. We obviously see the ramifications
from that looking backwards.
McMaken: That’s very true. Well, in any case, Luther says there are—broadly
speaking—two kinds of righteousness. There’s the kind that you do for yourself:
political, ceremonial, legal. And there’s the kind God does for you: the
righteousness of faith.
Luther also
develops two uses of the law. They parallel the two kinds of righteousness. The
first use of the law is to constrain the wicked. This is when you use the law
to set up rules to make sure people can’t hurt one another. The basic idea is
that we’re all wicked and if we were left with our own devices, without being
constrained, we would all hurt one other. Some days it feels hard to argue with
this point. That’s the first use of the law. The second use of the law is to
drive people to the gospel. The basic idea is that the law sets up a standard that
nobody can meet so that you go into despair about your relationship with God
and how you can never satisfy God. Then God can say: “No worries. Jesus took
care of it.” It’s part of what the Lutheran tradition calls the ordo
salutis—the order of salvation. This describes the process that one goes
through on the way to salvation. The first part of this process is realizing
that you can’t do it yourself. The law helps you do that.
However,
it’s important to have some perspective here. This is a particular way of
understanding the law, especially the Jewish law, that Luther finds in Paul but
that doesn’t accurately reflect Paul himself. We know from Philippians, for
instance, that Paul doesn’t think that he had any trouble keeping the law as a Pharisee.
There’s no good reason to think he ever changes his mind about that. Even
though Luther sets it up like this, Luther is giving us a particular
interpretation that fits in with how he understands salvation more broadly. He
brings this understanding with him to his interpretation of Paul, and that
colors his interpretation. When scholars talk about a “Lutheran interpretation
of Paul,” they are referring to al this.
Building on
the two kinds of righteousness and the two uses of the law, Luther also has two
kingdoms. This is the idea that there are Two spheres in which humans live out
their lives. The first kingdom is the earthly kingdom, the bodily kingdom, the
political kingdom. This is where active righteousness lives. This is our
day-to-day, walking around world that we live in. Then there’s also the
heavenly, spiritual kingdom, the kingdom of faith, the kingdom of passive
righteousness, the Kingdom of the gospel. In keeping with this, there are
certain ways that you live just because you’re a human being, and there are
other kinds of ways that you live because you’re Christian. Luther thinks these
things overlap, but they are also very distinct in his thinking. And that
produces some issues. For instance, we have the 10 Commandments telling us not
to kill and Jesus said things that seem to suggest violence is something for
Christians to avoid. But what if you’re in Christian political community and
you need an executioner? How are you going to get an executioner? Luther says:
“If you’re a good Christian, you should go ahead and be the executioner. It’s
not about you and you wanting to kill somebody. It’s about what’s good for the
political community. It’s necessary and you’re serving your neighbors, so go
ahead and be an executioner.”
Participant: That’s scary.
McMaken: What happens is you end up with your private Christian
morality on the one hand, and then your public political “morality” on the
other. And they don’t always align. Why? Luther says it’s because, in the
public sphere, you’ve got a mixed group. It would be great if everybody were
Christians and living according to the Christian morality, but not everybody is
a Christian. Not everybody is living a good Christian life. So you need to take
certain precautions. Luther theorizes all this in terms of the two kingdoms. You’ve
got active righteousness and the use of the law as a constraint for the wicked
in the political kingdom. Then you also have the kingdom of faith, where
passive righteousness lives and where the law drives you to despair so stop
thinking that you can do it all yourself and are prepared to receive God’s gift
of saving grace.
There’s a quote
from Luther that I want to spend a little bit of time taking apart. He writes:
“This distinction
is easy to speak of; but in experience and practice it is the most difficult of
all, even if you exercise and practice it diligently. … Therefore I admonish
you, …exercise yourselves by study, by reading, by meditation, and by prayer,
so that in temptation you will be able to instruct consciences, both your own
and others, console them, and take them from Law to grace, from active
righteousness to passive righteousness, in short, from Moses to Christ.” (p. 10)
Notice how Luther says “exercise.” He’s
talking, primarily, about the distinction between the two kinds of
righteousness and the two uses of the law. Luther’s point is that it’s hard to
grasp this distinction existentially. We can wrap our minds around it but, when
the chips are down and you have that gut-level reflex with respect to your
relationship with God, it’s hard to internalize the idea that your salvation doesn’t
depend on anything that you do. We keep reverting back to the idea, in Luther's
mind, that we have to do something, and that there is something we can do.
In order to overcome that, Luther says that we have to exercise. I love this
metaphor, and Luther isn’t the only one who uses it. It comes out of the
monastic tradition. Just like we exercise our bodies and our minds, we need to
exercise spiritually. We have to pump up our spiritual muscles to become
spiritual Arnold Schwarzeneggers.
How do we do
that? Luther tells us: by study, by reading, by meditation, and by prayer. Scripture
is front and center here. We need to study, read, meditate, and pray scripture.
That’s how we internalize these things and shape our imaginations in new ways.
Why must we
do that? “So that in temptation you will be able to instruct consciences.” This
is that guilty conscience, that troubled conscience, that conscience convinced
it has to do something. For Luther, this troubled conscience is at the root of
all of this existential dread that people experience. By exercising yourself
spiritually, you get yourself in a position where you can instruct that
conscience. Then he says: “both your own and others.” You have to be able to
instruct your own conscience when these thoughts come up. You can say: “No.
That's not it. Let’s go back, remember, and put that to the side.” But when
other people come to you with these troubles, you have to be able to help them
work through it. He wants us to be able to “console them.”
Now we will
see how his thinking comes together but in a more problematic way. He says we
must “take
them from Law to grace, from active righteousness to passive righteousness, in
short, from Moses to Christ.” This is
the anti-Judaism, supersessionism thing that we’ve been talking about long the
way. Why? Because Luther is talking to a bunch of Germans. They’re all
Gentiles. What did they ever have to do with Moses? In Luther’s mind, the law
and Moses get associated with the Pope. When he looks around and tries to find
folks that he thinks are acting in his own time like Paul’s opponents were
acting in Paul’s time, he thinks it’s the Pope. He wants folks to move from
siding with the Pope to siding with him, but he describes this in terms of
moving from Judaism to Christianity, which is just ridiculously over simplistic
and misleading. And what’s worse, this pattern of thought becomes deeply
ingrained in Protestant theology—most especially in in Lutheranism, for obvious
reasons, but also in our own Reformed tradition.
This is why
you have to stay alert when reading Luther. You can be going along, hearing
nice things about exercising your spiritual muscles and helping folks with
their troubled consciences, hearing about how our relationship with God depends
on God’s free grace. Then—bam! You get hit with some anti-Judaism and
supersessionism. We need to call this out when we see it.
Let’s look
now at another quote:
“In short, whoever
knows for sure that Christ is his righteousness not only cheerfully and gladly
works in his calling but also submits himself for the sake of love to
magistrates, also to their wicked laws, and to everything else in this present
life – even, if need be, to burden and danger. For he knows that God wants this
and that this obedience pleases Him.”
(p. 12)
For Luther, the idea of “calling” is
tied up with medieval culture. Much more than today, people followed in the
professions of their parents—well, your father, really. If your dad was a brewer,
the you were a brewer. If your dad was a serf woodcutter, you were a serf woodcutter.
That’s your calling. Luther said everybody’s calling is equal. People who are
clergy aren’t necessarily better. People who are nobles aren’t necessarily
better. As far as God’s concerned, everybody's equal even though everybody has
different social roles or callings. And Luther has a conservative streak in
that he thinks everyone should stay in their calling. He also thinks that
having the proper understanding of Christ being your righteousness makes it
better for you in your calling because now you can live out whatever calling
you have as part of your obedience to God and Christ. If your job is to muck
out all the sewage, you can do that to the glory of God. You don't have to feel
any less “called” or “holy” than Martin
Luther, sitting away in his study reading Greek. So, one “gladly works in his
calling.”
Then it gets
interesting, and we have to look back to what we said about Luther’s two kingdoms
idea: “but also submits himself for the sake of love to magistrates.” This
refers to following the law and dictates of your political authorities. We all
generally agree that it's a good thing for Christians to do, yes?
Participants: Yes.
McMaken: Right, that’s our general outlook. But he keeps going: “but
also submits himself for the sake of love to magistrates, also to their wicked
laws, and to everything else in this present life – even, if need be, to burden
and danger. For he knows that God wants this and that this obedience pleases
Him.” So we’re to submit even to wicked laws, as a form of obedience to God.
Participant: Who’s saying this?
McMaken: Luther is saying this. I think it’s problematic too! This
is a strand you find in Luther and the Reformation more broadly. Calvin is not immune
to saying things like this, either. They’re terrified of being labeled as
subversive to the political order because then everybody will be after them.
Luther has an elector, a high-level prince in Germany, who is his benefactor—John
Frederick the Magnanimous. So Luther isn’t interested in destructing or
disrupting the political order. So even if there are wicked laws, it’s better
to follow those than to assume authority that God hasn’t given you and that is
not part of your calling. You do your thing, your calling, your duty, no matter
how much it hurts, as a form of obedience to God.
Participant: Do you recall that, at some point, there were peasant
uprisings that Luther spoke out very strongly against? Is that a context for
this?
McMaken: That was the German Peasants’ War back in the mid-1520s. The
result was that the nobles—including bishops who had political jurisdiction in
different parts of Germany—sent in their soldiers and killed hundreds of
thousands of people. Luther called for the authorities to restore order by
means of violence if necessary. He was shocked that people could take the idea
of freedom of conscience in religion as a foundation for wanting more political
freedom, more political stake, more political involvement and political
fairness. But with Luther’s two kingdoms idea, Christians are supposed to obey
political authorities—even the wicked stuff. On top of this, Luther, Calvin,
and others would add that when you find yourself under the authority of a
wicked ruler or government, that’s because God is either punishing you or
testing you by making you go through these things. Today, we call this “victim
blaming,” perhaps with a side of gaslighting thrown in, too.
Participant: Can you define gaslighting?
McMaken: Gaslighting is making somebody doubt themselves and their
sanity. It would be like if somebody came and said, “The sky is blue,” but I
said, “No, it’s not. It’s green. Why on earth would you think it’s blue?”
Participant: It’s somebody making you feel like you’re crazy.
McMaken: Right. For Luther, all of this is part of how the two
kingdoms idea plays out. And he builds his two kingdoms idea on his ideas about
two different kinds of righteousness. This is one of those places where we can
connect the theological dots and see real life consequences. We start out with an
idea about how salvation works and how to take care of our conscience as we
struggle with our relationship with God. But, before taking all that many steps
down the logical road, we end up hearing that we need to submit to wicked laws.
Theological ideas always have practical, political consequences.
[This is an edited transcript from
an adult spiritual formation group that met at St. Charles
Presbyterian Church in St. Charles, Missouri. It was transcribed and edited with the help of a student
worker at Lindenwood University who wishes to remain anonymous, but who was also a big
help. Click here to find an index of the full series.]
[1]
Jaroslav Pelikan, ed., Luther’s Works, Volume
26: Lectures on Galatians 1535, Chapters 1–4 (Saint Louis: Concordia
Publishing House, 1963).
[2] Jane
Gleeson-White, Double Entry: How the Merchants of Venice Created Modern
Finance (New York: W. W. Norton, 2011). For an overview, see David
Kestenbaum, “The Accountant Who Changed the World,” NPR.org, October 4,
2012: https://www.npr.org/sections/money/2012/10/04/162296423/the-accountant-who-changed-the-world
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