LUTHER BURNS THE PAPAL BULL

The bull of excommunication arrived at Wittenberg in October, 1520. It had before this been published far and wide, and almost the last man to see it was the man against whom it was fulminated. But here at last it is. Luther and Leo: Wittenberg and Rome now stand face to face — Rome has excommunicated Wittenberg, and Wittenberg will excommunicate Rome. Neither can retreat, and the war must be to the death.

The bull could not be published at Wittenberg, for the university possessed in this matter powers superior to those of the Bishop of Brandenburg. It did, indeed, receive publication at Wittenberg, and that of a very emphatic kind, as we shall afterwards see, but not such publication as Eck wished and anticipated. The arrival of the terrible missive caused no fear in the heart of Luther. On the contrary, it inspired him with fresh courage. The movement was expanding into greater breadth. He saw clearly the hand of God guilding it to its goal.

Meanwhile the Reformer took those formal measures that were necessary, to indicate his position in the eyes of the world, in the eyes of the Church which had condemned him, and in the eyes of posterity. He renewed his appeal with all solemnity from Leo X to a future Council. On Saturday, the 17th of November, at ten o’clock in the morning, in the Augustine convent where he resided, in the presence of a notary public and five witnesses, among whom was Caspar Cruciger, he entered a solemn protest against the bull. The notary took down his words as he uttered them....

This was not Luther’s affair only, but that of all Christendom, and accordingly he accompanied his protest against the bull by a solemn appeal to “the emperor, the electors, princes, barons, nobles, senators, and the entire Christian magistracy of Germany,” calling upon them for the sake of Catholic truth, the Church of Christ, and the liberty and right of a lawful Council, to stand by him and his appeal, to resist the impious tyranny of the Pope, and not to execute the bull till he had been legally summoned and heard before impartial judges, and convicted from Scripture. Should they act dutifully in this matter, “Christ, our Lord,” he said, “would reward them with His everlasting grace. But if there be any who scorn my prayer, and continue to obey that impious man, the Pope, rather than God,” he disclaimed all responsibility for the consequences, and left them to the supreme judgment of Almighty God.

In the track of the two nuncios blazed numerous piles — not of men, as yet, but of books, the writings of Luther. In Louvain, in Cologne, and many other towns in the hereditary estates of the emperor, a bonfire had been made of his works. To these many piles of Eck and Aleander, Luther replied by kindling one pile. He had written the bill of divorcement, now he will give a sign that he has separated irrevocably from Rome.

A placard on the walls of the University of Wittenberg announced that it was Luther’s intention to burn the Pope’s bull, and that this would take place at nine o’clock in the morning of December 10th, at the eastern gate of the town. On the day and hour appointed, Luther was seen to issue from the gate of the university, followed by a train of 600 doctors and students and a crowd of citizens who enthusiastically sympathised. The procession held on its way through the streets of Wittenberg till, making its exit at the gate, it bore out of the city (for all unclean things were burned without the camp) the bull of the Pontiff. Arriving at the spot where this new and strange immolation was to take place, the members of procession found a scaffold already erected, and a pile of logs laid in order upon it. One of the more distinguished Masters of Art took the torch and applied it to the pile. Soon the flames blazed up. At this moment, the Reformer, wearing the frock of his order, stepped out from the crowd and approached the fire, holding in his hand the several volumes which constitute the Canon Law, the Compound of Gratian, the Clementines, the Extravagants of Julius II, and other and later coinages of the Papal mint. He placed these awful volumes one after the other on the blazing pile.

It fared with them as if they had been common things. Their mysterious virtue did not profit in the fire. The flames fastening on them with their fiery tongues speedily turned these monuments of the toil, the genius, and the infallibility of the Popes to ashes. This destruction of Papal edicts was not yet complete. The bull of Leo X still remained. Luther held it up in his hand. “Since thou hast vexed the Holy One of the Lord,” said he, “may everlasting fire vex and consume thee.” With these words he flung it into the burning mass.

Eck had pictured to himself the terrible bull, as he bore it in triumph across the Alps, exploding in ruin above the head of the monk. A more peaceful exit awaited it. For a few moments it blazed and crackled in the flames, and then it calmly mingled its dust with the ashes of its predecessors, that winter morning, on the smouldering pile outside the walls of Wittenberg.

The blow had been struck. The procession reformed. Doctors, masters, students and townsmen, again gathering around the Reformer, walked back, amid demonstrations of triumph to the city.

Had Luther begun his movement with this act, he would have wrecked it. Men would have seen only fury and rage, where they now saw courage and faith. The Reformer began by posting up his “Thesis”— by letting in the light upon the dark places of Rome. Now, however, the minds of men were to a large extent prepared. The burning of the bull was, therefore, the right act at the right time. It was felt to be the act, not of a solitary monk, but of the German people — the explosion of a nation’s indignation. The tidings of it travelled fast and far; and when the report reached Rome, the powers of the Vatican trembled upon their seats. It sounded like the Voice that is said to have echoed through the heathen world at our Saviour’s birth, and which awoke lamentations and wailings amid the shrines and groves of paganism: “Great Pan is dead!”

Luther knew that one blow would not win the battle; that the war was only commenced, and must be followed up by ceaseless, and if possible, still mightier blows. Accordingly, next day, as he was lecturing on the Psalms, he reverted to the episode of the bull, and broke out into a strain of impassioned eloquence and invective. The burning of the Papal statutes, said he, addressing the crowd of students that thronged the lecture-room, is but the sign, the thing signified was what they were to aim at, even the conflagration of the Papacy. His brow gathered and his voice grew more solemn as he continued: “Unless with all your hearts you abandon the Papacy, you cannot save your souls. The reign of the Pope is so opposed to the law of Christ and the life of the Christian, that it will be safer to roam the desert and never see the face of man, than abide under the rule of Anti-Christ. I warn every man to look to his soul’s warfare, lest by submitting to the Pope he deny Christ. The time is come when Christians must choose between death here and death hereafter. For my own part. I choose death here. I cannnot lay such a burden upon my soul as to hold my peace in this matter: I must look to the great reckoning. I abominate the Babylonian pest. As long as I live I will proclaim the truth. If the wholesale destruction of souls throughout Christendom cannot be prevented, at least I shall labour to the utmost of my power to rescue my own countrymen from the bottomless pit of perdition.” (From History of Protestantism by Rev. J. A. Wylie.)

Deze tekst is geautomatiseerd gemaakt en kan nog fouten bevatten. Digibron werkt voortdurend aan correctie. Klik voor het origineel door naar de pdf. Voor opmerkingen, vragen, informatie: contact.

Op Digibron -en alle daarin opgenomen content- is het databankrecht van toepassing. Gebruiksvoorwaarden. Data protection law applies to Digibron and the content of this database. Terms of use.

Printen