Luther: Continuities and Discontinuities with His Late Medieval Context

Cynthia R. Nielsen
Nominalism & Modernity, Fall 06
Philipp W. Rosemann

Luther: Continuities and Discontinuities with His Late Medieval Context

Introduction

Before entering into a discussion of Luther and his relationship with late medieval scholasticism, I would like to briefly explain what I hope to accomplish, what I hope not to convey, and why I have selected this topic. Being a Protestant, I realize that I come to the table with a number of biases and precommitments that influence not only the “facts” upon which I have chosen to focus, but the very way I see the “facts” themselves. This is not to say that my interpretation or worldview is unalterable, but it is to recognize my own limitations and to acknowledge my own historical, cultural, and personal conditioning. With my presuppositions in a sense laid bare, I have no desire to engage in uncharitable polemics against Roman Catholicism, nor do I desire to exalt Luther and make him into an idol of sorts. Rather, in the spirit of Alister McGrath, my attempt is neither to excessively praise nor to damn Luther, “but simply to understand him.”[1] I do of course see Luther in a favorable light—it more or less goes with the territory when one is a (Reformed) Protestant. Yet, Luther, as is the case with any viator under the sun, is not above criticism. Lastly, as a Protestant, I feel the need to better understand my own tradition both in terms of what are considered innovations, as well as the many continuities that exist between Protestant and Roman Catholic expressions of the Christian faith. In sum, my desire is to explore and examine what seems to me (at this stage of my own spiritual and academic growth) some of the most crucial aspects of Luther’s theology, to understand how these relate to his late medieval context, and to be existentially changed and (hopefully) deepened in my faith as a result.

Setting the Historical Context: Via Moderna

The university at Wittenberg, founded in 1502 by Frederick the Wise, served as the context for much of Luther’s early intellectual training. As McGrath observes, upon his return to Wittenberg in the late summer of 1511, Luther “found an Augustinian priory and a university in which three particularly significant elements of later medieval thought were well established,” viz., the studia humanitatis, the via moderna, and the schola Augustiniana moderna.[2] For the purpose of this paper, I will focus on the via moderna, which will include a discussion of the dialectic between the two powers of God (potentia absoluta et potentia ordinata Dei). The via moderna, which arose in the latter half of the fourteenth century,is often explicated in contrast with the via antiqua. The former is generally associated with the nominalism[3] of William of Ockham and Gregory of Rimini, whereas the latter represents the realist positions of St. Thomas Aquinas and Duns Scotus.[4] Moving outside of the narrow confines of epistemological theories, nominalism as a movement exercised a far-ranging impact that extended well beyond the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. For example, Heiko A. Oberman lists the following as key elements of the nominalist movement in its broader understanding. First, there is the dialectic between potentia ordinata (that which God has in fact decreed but which could have been otherwise) and potentia absoluta (the infinite possibilities available to the absolutely free God, i.e., barring a violation of the principle of non-contradiction). Second, we encounter an emphasis on the contingency of creation. Oberman emphasizes that this contingency must be understood both vertically (God—world—human beings) and horizontally (world—human beings—future), and should not be taken as that which is unstable and constantly threatened by potentia absoluta. Rather, “[t]he contingency of creation and salvation means simply that they are not ontologically necessary. The point is that in the vertical dimension our reality is not the lowest emanation and level in a hierarchy of being which ascends in ever more real steps to the highest reality, God.”[5] Third, nominalism insists that our world is not a shadowy reflection of “higher levels of being,” but instead has its own “full reality.”[6] Fourth, the nominalists of this period protested against “wild speculation” and “vain curiosity,” particularly against claims of reason that are not verified by tests of experience. Stated from a different but related perspective, one might view the underlying intention of nominalism as a rejection of meta-categories that obfuscate reality. “Just as it rejected metaphysics to establish physics, so nominalism ventured to strip theology of her distorting meta-theological shackles, with the result that the Scriptures and the prior decrees of God were emphasized at the expense of natural theology.”[7]Fifth, we find an emerging new image of God as a result of the stress on God’s potentia ordinata. Here God is understood as the covenant God who has made a pactum with his creation (which includes salvation history and everything that entails) and human beings are seen as “contractual partners” with God in this covenant. According to Oberman, this new emphasis on God as a “contractual partner in creation and salvation,” is intimately connected with what he considers as a Pelagianist view of facere quod in se est, a doctrine which is here interpreted as God having determined in eternity “past” to accept and reward certain human moral efforts apart from a prior movement of grace.[8]

Given the significance placed on the dialectic of the two powers (potentia absoluta et potentia ordinata Dei) mentioned above by the moderni, it would be helpful to spend some time discussing this distinction, its historical background, and its use by the theologians of the via moderna. The distinction of the two powers can be traced back to Peter Damien and Anselm of Canterbury.[9] St. Thomas Aquinas also recognized the distinction; however, he employed it as a limiting concept rather than making it a central focus.[10] For example, St. Thomas taught that from an initial set of possibilities God freely chose to actualize a particular subset. God, being both free and omnipotent (limited only by acting such that the principle of non-contradiction is upheld), could have willed to actualize a different subset. However, given his choice, God abides by his decision and the unrealized possibilities must be regarded as only hypothetically possible.[11] As McGrath explains, the initial set of possibilities open to God refers to his potentia absoluta, whereas the actualized subset refers to his potentia ordinata. This distinction enabled theologians to provide a defense against any charge of necessatarianism. As McGrath explains,

God cannot be said to act out of absolute necessity (neccessitas consequentis), in that he was free to select any possibilities he cared to for actualization, subject to the sole condition of non-contradiction (that is, God is unable to construct a triangle with four sides). Nevertheless, having selected which possibilities to actualize, God imposes upon himself a certain degree of restriction, in that he has freely chosen to be faithful to a certain ordering of his creation. The significance of the distinction between the two powers of God lies in the concept of necessity involved: how can God be said to act reliably, without simultaneously asserting that he acts of necessity?[12]

In other words, the dialectic provided a way to affirm the reliability of God’s actions, while rejecting that God acts necessarily. God in a sense freely limits himself and commits himself to that which he has ordained. The ordained order is a contingent consequence of God’s free decision in which he acts not by absolute necessity but by a “conditional necessity (necessitas coactionis or necessitas consequentiae).[13] So long as the dialectic of the two powers remains a dialectic and functions as a limiting notion, it can be a useful theological tool. Now that we have a better understanding of the via moderna and the two powers, let us turn to map out a brief sketch of the various medieval theories of salvation, starting with St. Augustine and ending with Ockham and his understanding of “covenantal” causality.

A Brief Sketch of “Traditional” Medieval Theories of Salvation (Augustine to Ockham)

St. Augustine

Beginning with St. Augustine, who is arguably the most influential (Western) theologian, we encounter both a high view of sin and a high view of Christ.[14] In other words, Augustine takes Genesis 3 quite seriously, which in turn causes him to see the absolute necessity of Christ for the salvation of those, who with Adam, have been deeply affected by sin.[15] Augustine, however, is quick to point out that human beings have not always been characterized by sinfulness. Prior to the “Fall” of Genesis 3, Adam and Eve were able not to sin (posse non peccare), yet after the Fall they become not able not to sin (non posse non peccare).[16] As Stephen Ozment explains, for Augustine the great advantage of Christianity over Platonism centered on the healing power of the sacraments, which the Platonists did not know.

Christians did not contemplate truth at a distance, […], but grasped it directly by faith; nor did they look for strength to a deity who remained beyond this world, but found it in one who had become flesh and dwelt among men. The power to heal the will and restore man to self-control was tangibly present in the Incarnation of Christ and the sacraments of the Christian church. […] As the continuation of the power of the Incarnation, the church had the authority to forgive sin; its revelation enlightened man’s mind; its sacraments, ‘the medicine of immortality,’ healed his will. Later scholastics described the sacraments as a gratia gratum faciens, a power that really changed life. Sacramental grace became the equivalent in the present life of the lost supernatural aid that had specially assisted Adam in living a life ordered to God in Paradise.[17]

We see Augustine continue in his conviction and high regard for church authority in the Donatist controversy, viz., in his conclusion that the efficacy of the sacraments is not dependent upon the moral state of the priest. Thus, the sacraments work ex opere operato (“by virtue of their objective performance”), not ex opere operantis (as a result of the moral worth of the performing agent). Given his beliefs on predestination and original sin, Augustine was engaged in controversies with Pelagius who taught that human beings have the natural moral ability to merit grace. During the 5th and 6th centuries a number of church councils met and in agreement with Augustine’s teachings, as well as Scripture, condemned Pelagianism (e.g., Carthage (418), Ephesus (431), Orange (529).[18]

According to Ozment, the teaching of the medieval church required three things to make fallen human begins righteous again: (1) an infusion of healing grace, which involves a “reliance on the church and its sacraments,” (2) ethical cooperation with God’s grace, (3) “the remission of guilt incurred by sin by priestly absolution.”[19] Foundational to the process of restoration were the sacraments of baptism and penance. “The grace of baptism was believed to neutralize the individual’s responsibility for original sin […], while the grace of penance gave aid against persisting actual sins.”[20] Moreover, baptism not only “neutralized” original sin, but dealt with present sins and weakened the baptized person’s inclination to sin. Given the fact that our struggle with sin is a continual problem, the sacrament of penance was added, which dealt with sins after baptism, present sins, and helped to weaken one’s tendency to sin. Thus, returning again and again to the sacrament of penance for strength and assurance was part of the medieval Christian’s fabric of life.

In light of the teaching on infused grace, a major dispute prior to Pelagian-centered debates focused on the question of how divine grace could be present in a human soul. Interestingly, the often overlooked medieval figure, Peter Lombard, set the trajectory for this debate. In book I, distinction 17, of his Sentences, Lombard asks, “Is the love by which we are saved a created habit of our soul, or is it the very person of the Holy Spirit dwelling within us?” In other words, is it the power of the indwelling Holy Spirit who heals and saves us or “is that which heals and saves a person part of his own nature, something that he himself has developed as his own possession?”[21] According to Lombard, the answer must be the Holy Spirit. Interestingly, when the young Luther penned his commentary on Lombard’s Sentences, he, in contrast with the majority scholastic voice of the day, explicitly sided with Lombard.[22]

St. Thomas Aquinas

St. Thomas, however, disagreed with Lombard’s position, “arguing that saving charity must be a voluntary act arising from a disposition man couldcall his own.”[23] In other words, for Aquinas, Lombard’s position makes human beings entirely passive, which does violence to a voluntary act—in other words, our acts of love must be our acts. “According to Aquinas, grace is in the soul as a reality connatural to man; […] Although its ultimate origin is divine, the love by which people love God and their fellow man in a saving way is a created love, a truly human habit.”[24] Utilizing distinctions from his study of Aristotle, Aquinas devised the following solution: grace is in the soul as an accidental, not a substantial form.[25] According to Aristotelian philosophy, a substantial form is primary and speaks of that which makes a thing to be what it is. For example, the substantial form of a human being is reason; hence, the definition, a human being is a rational animal. To be a human being entails rationality, as it is reason that differentiates humans from other animals. An accidental form, on the other hand, does not define what a thing is. That a person is musical, though accurately describing an aspect of that individual, is nonessential to what that person is as a human being, viz., a rational animal. How does all this relate to St. Thomas’ solution? Utilizing the example above, in order to become a musical person, I would need to acquire the habit of becoming musical through instruction, practice, etc. Yet, whether or not I do in fact become musical, I am still a human being because my becoming musical is nonessential (and hence accidental) to my being a human being. Similarly, grace exists in the human soul just as the habit of becoming musical exists in a person.

With the infusion of supernatural grace an individual receives the essential foundation, an initial disposition, basic instruction, as it were, in how to order his life in obedience to God. He must still exercise the grace he has received in order to become “expert” in the art of loving God and man. For Aquinas, the infused habit of grace is that without which one could never become a Christian and enter heaven; one may be without grace, but not a “Christian man.” Aquinas further believed that once the habit of grace had been inculcated it could never be completely lost, even though it might for long periods of time go unexercised.[26]

Here Thomas, being the master of the via media offers his solution, viz., grace is an accidental, not a substantial form of the soul which is “really, but accidentally” present.

Duns Scotus

Duns Scotus, in turn, was highly critical of St. Thomas’ position on the infused habit of grace. As McGrath points out, the question at the heart of the fourteenth-century debate regarding the role of supernatural habits in justification was whether or not this infusion was “theologically prior or posterior to divine acceptation.”[27] In the teaching of the early Dominican and Franciscan schools, the infused habit of grace is the immediate or formal cause of justification and divine acceptance. The idea was that a person could not be accepted by God on a purely extrinsic basic, but rather a real change must occur (via the gift of a created habit of grace) so that the person is made acceptable in God’s sight. Scotus, however, by employing the two power dialectic begins to reshape the terrain, placing both justification and merit in the “extrinsic denomination of accepatito divina.”[28] Though Scotus does claim that divine acceptance is based on whether or not a person possesses a habitus caritatis,[29]he is quick to stress that de potentia absoluta God is in no way obligated to accept one who possesses such a habit;[30] however, de potentia ordinata Dei, a created habit of charity is required for divine acceptance. Here Scotus stresses both the reliability and contingency of that which God has ordained, and, as McGrath observes, Scotus’ employment of the principle, nihil creatum formaliter est a Deo acceptandum. In other words, that which is created and finite can in no way determine or obligate that which is uncreated and infinite. Utilizing this distinction to address the question of whether a created habit of charity is the formal cause of justification, Scotus argues that

a distinction must be made between the primary cause of divine acceptation (i.e., a necessary cause, arising out of the nature of the entities in question) and the secondary cause of divine acceptation (i.e., a contingent cause, which has its esse solely in the divine apprehension). On the basis of this distinction, Scotus argues that the created habit of charity must be regarded as a secondary cause of divine acceptation. God ordained from all eternity that the created habit of charity should be the ratio acceptandi, so that its importance in this connection is contingent, rather than necessary, deriving solely from the divine ordination, and not from any universally valid law. In effect, this amounts to an unequivocal statement of the concept of covenantal causality […]. The inner connection between acceptation and the habit of charity does not lie in either the nature of acceptation or the habit of charity, but solely in the divine ordination that there should be a causal relationship between them, which has now been actualized de potentia Dei ordinata.[31]