Pope Benedict Says: Read the Early Writings of Luther?

Nathan Rinne left me a link over to his series of blog entries, The coming vindication of Martin Luther. He mentioned something I vaguely remembered:

Although I cannot locate a specific quotation, at one point I had heard that Pope Benedict encouraged his fellow Roman Catholics to read the early Luther, when Luther was still genuinely catholic. The problem with this, of course, is that the core theological convictions of the “early Luther” were part and parcel of his later protest. One cannot readily separate Luther the responsible RC theologian from Luther the Church reformer, for the theology drove the reform. Now of course, I do not want to discourage such developments, but speaking honestly, it is very difficult for me to understand how Roman Catholic theologians who are familiar with Luther think that his early pre-Reformation works will end up helping their cause! It seems to me that the crises of indulgences became particularly clear for Luther precisely because of the theologian he had become, and he was absolutely determined to “refute the opinions of the ‘new’ scholastic doctors concerning the efficacy of indulgences” (Hendrix, p. 35) And from this starting point, it was only a matter of time before Luther was able to identify and articulate ever more clearly how the related issues of sacramental penance and absolution (see 10, 11 and 12 below) had been wrongly taught by the Roman hierarchy (as he found that the problem went deep, i.e. Aristotle vs. Bible – see 13 and 14 below [also see this post dispelling myths about the Lutheran view of "Sola Scriptura"]). One link in the chain led to another which led to another – until Luther was able to see clearly the very heart of the matter: that is, the essence of the Gospel itself. The controversy regarding indulgences had brought him there.

I vaguely recalled a report that the pope said something like this, so after snooping around a bit I found this 2005 ZENIT article: LUTHERAN HAILED CARDINAL RATZINGER AS EXPERT ON LUTHER.

Excerpts:

"During the debate on the encyclical "Fides et Ratio," which took place in Rome in October 1998, Cardinal Ratzinger revealed that before entering university he had already read all of Luther's works written before the Reformation."

"Ratzinger invited those present to read those writings again, as they express the great battle that Luther had with himself to live and accept the teachings of the just and good God," she added. "'Dear Protestant friends, rediscover the Luther of those years,'" recommended Cardinal Ratzinger at the time."

Now, if you read the article, it appears what's being reported is not an actual writing or transcription from the   Pope. Rather, it's the recollections of someone hearing the Pope speaking  in a public meeting. I'm not sure if this is the source Nathan had in mind.

I would though agree with Nathan that the early Luther is not as Roman Catholic as modern-day Roman Catholics. In fact, it wasn't uncommon to find Roman Catholic writers of previous generations arguing Luther's Romanism was defective even before 1517.  

Benedict XVI on Luther

I'm stealing this one from Cyberbrethren: The Pope’s Remarks at the Augustinian Cloister in Erfurt


September 23, 2011. (Romereports.com) Behind closed doors the pope met with representatives of Germany’s Evangelical Church. In a powerful speech the pope spoke about Martin Luther, who led the Protestant Reform. He encouraged the ecumenical dialogue to continue so both groups can strengthen their relationship even more.

Benedict XVI recalled the question once asked by Martin Luther, which gave rise to Lutheranism: “what is God’s position towards me, where do I stand before God.?” The pope went on to say, that this question is still relevant. It’s a question, he said, that each person should ask themselves.

FULL SPEECH:

Ladies and Gentlemen,

As I begin to speak, I would like first of all to thank you for this opportunity to come together with you. I am particularly grateful to Pastor Schneider for greeting me and welcoming me into your midst with his kind words. At the same time I want to express my thanks for the particularly gracious gesture that our meeting can be held in this historic location.

As the Bishop of Rome, it is deeply moving for me to be meeting representatives of Council of the Lutheran Church of Germany here in the ancient Augustinian convent in Erfurt. This is where Luther studied theology. This is where he was ordained a priest in 1507. Against his father’s wishes, he did not continue the study of Law, but instead he studied theology and set off on the path towards priesthood in the Order of Saint Augustine. On this path, he was not simply concerned with this or that. What constantly exercised him was the question of God, the deep passion and driving force of his whole life’s journey. “How do I receive the grace of God?”: this question struck him in the heart and lay at the foundation of all his theological searching and inner struggle. For him theology was no mere academic pursuit, but the struggle for oneself, which in turn was a struggle for and with God.

“How do I receive the grace of God?” The fact that this question was the driving force of his whole life never ceases to make an impression on me. For who is actually concerned about this today – even among Christians? What does the question of God mean in our lives? In our preaching? Most people today, even Christians, set out from the presupposition that God is not fundamentally interested in our sins and virtues. He knows that we are all mere flesh. Insofar as people today believe in an afterlife and a divine judgement at all, nearly everyone presumes for all practical purposes that God is bound to be magnanimous and that ultimately he mercifully overlooks our small failings. But are they really so small, our failings? Is not the world laid waste through the corruption of the great, but also of the small, who think only of their own advantage? Is it not laid waste through the power of drugs, which thrives on the one hand on greed and avarice, and on the other hand on the craving for pleasure of those who become addicted? Is the world not threatened by the growing readiness to use violence, frequently masking itself with claims to religious motivation? Could hunger and poverty so devastate parts of the world if love for God and godly love of neighbour – of his creatures, of men and women – were more alive in us? I could go on. No, evil is no small matter. Were we truly to place God at the centre of our lives, it could not be so powerful. The question: what is God’s position towards me, where do I stand before God? – this burning question of Martin Luther must once more, doubtless in a new form, become our question too. In my view, this is the first summons we should attend to in our encounter with Martin Luther.

Another important point: God, the one God, creator of heaven and earth, is no mere philosophical hypothesis regarding the origins of the universe. This God has a face, and he has spoken to us. He became one of us in the man Jesus Christ – who is both true God and true man. Luther’s thinking, his whole spirituality, was thoroughly Christocentric: “What promotes Christ’s cause” was for Luther the decisive hermeneutical criterion for the exegesis of sacred Scripture. This presupposes, however, that Christ is at the heart of our spirituality and that love for him, living in communion with him, is what guides our life.

Now perhaps you will say: all well and good, but what has this to do with our ecumenical situation? Could this just be an attempt to talk our way past the urgent problems that are still waiting for practical progress, for concrete results? I would respond by saying that the first and most important thing for ecumenism is that we keep in view just how much we have in common, not losing sight of it amid the pressure towards secularization – everything that makes us Christian in the first place and continues to be our gift and our task. It was the error of the Reformation period that for the most part we could only see what divided us and we failed to grasp existentially what we have in common in terms of the great deposit of sacred Scripture and the early Christian creeds. The great ecumenical step forward of recent decades is that we have become aware of all this common ground and that we acknowledge it as we pray and sing together, as we make our joint commitment to the Christian ethos in our dealings with the world, as we bear common witness to the God of Jesus Christ in this world as our undying foundation.

The risk of losing this, sadly, is not unreal. I would like to make two points here. The geography of Christianity has changed dramatically in recent times, and is in the process of changing further. Faced with a new form of Christianity, which is spreading with overpowering missionary dynamism, sometimes in frightening ways, the mainstream Christian denominations often seem at a loss. This is a form of Christianity with little institutional depth, little rationality and even less dogmatic content, and with little stability. This worldwide phenomenon poses a question to us all: what is this new form of Christianity saying to us, for better and for worse? In any event, it raises afresh the question about what has enduring validity and what can or must be changed – the question of our fundamental faith choice.

The second challenge to worldwide Christianity of which I wish to speak is more profound and in our country more controversial: the secularized context of the world in which we Christians today have to live and bear witness to our faith. God is increasingly being driven out of our society, and the history of revelation that Scripture recounts to us seems locked into an ever more remote past. Are we to yield to the pressure of secularization, and become modern by watering down the faith? Naturally faith today has to be thought out afresh, and above all lived afresh, so that it is suited to the present day. Yet it is not by watering the faith down, but by living it today in its fullness that we achieve this. This is a key ecumenical task. Moreover, we should help one another to develop a deeper and more lively faith. It is not strategy that saves us and saves Christianity, but faith – thought out and lived afresh; through such faith, Christ enters this world of ours, and with him, the living God. As the martyrs of the Nazi era brought us together and prompted the first great ecumenical opening, so today, faith that is lived from deep within amid a secularized world is the most powerful ecumenical force that brings us together, guiding us towards unity in the one Lord.

What must the church salvage from her tradition and what must she, if the need arises, discard?

While searching the library for another title, I came across The Essential Pope Benedict XVI: His Central Writings and Speeches. (It's a popular level work, at least judging from the content and reviews I've read so far.) Thumbing through the collection of documents brought me to an interview (from 1996) on the resolution of the contentious "canon of issues" (i.e., women's ordination, contraception, celibacy, the remarriage of divorced persons). One set of question and answer was particularly interesting inasmuch as it relates a certain conception of unity based on a gradation in the importance of beliefs (emphasis in original):

[Peter Seewald] Everything revolves again and again on this point: what must the church salvage from her tradition and what must she, if the need arises, discard? How is this question decided? Is there a list with two columns? On the right: always valid; on the left: capable of renewal?

[Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger] No, it's obviously not that simple. But there are various degrees of importance in the tradition. It was once customary in theology to speak of degrees of certitude, and that was not so wrong. Many say that we have to go back to that. The term hierarchy of truths does seem to point in this direction, namely, that not everything has the same weight, that there are, so to speak, essentials, for example, the great conciliar decisions or what is stated in the Creed. These things are the Way and as such are vital to the church's existence; they belong to her inner identity. And then there are ramifications that are connected with these essentials and certainly belong to the whole tree but that are not all of the same importance. The identity of the church has clear distinguishing marks, so that it is not rigid but the identity of something living, which remains true to itself in the midst of development. (The Essential Pope Benedict XVI [New York, NY: HarperCollins, 2003], 128-129)

A Legitimate Distinction

A distinction between essentials and non-essentials has, of course, been a staple of Protestant apologetic discourse. I'm not aware of any notable Catholic apologists who deny this distinction, but such a denial is common enough on discussion boards and blogs (a recent example may be found here here). If reasoning with those who deny the distinction seems fruitless, then perhaps the current Pope's articulation will be sufficient to convince such dissenters of its legitimacy.

The Whole Tree

The fact that we speak in such metaphors ("whole tree") when discussing essentials undergirds that the identification of these, being at its core an ontological project, is no simple task for any religious community. The learned Pope Benedict XVI acknowledges the complexity of the issue within the Roman Catholic community. And as experience shows (or will show, if you have yet to attempt it yourself), the task of absolutely delimiting these essentials is challenging; a precise periphery proves evasive. Catholic apologists should expect, then, to see some measure of difficulty on the part of Protestants to articulate a highly precise account of the essentials of Protestantism.

What should be acceptable to all is a general account. To extend Ratzinger's metaphor, we perceive the tree of our tradition and we know the trunk is essential to its identity. Let us also say that the boughs are essentials, but the twigs are non-essential. Any attempt to analyze the entire tree will encounter borderline cases where it is difficult to tell when a bough is a twig and when a twig is a bough. The existence of such borderline cases does not invalidate the clear identification of the trunk, nor of clear cases of boughs and twigs.

Each and every disagreement over the nature of the essentials does not count against the overall project of seeking essentials. It is not enough to simply note that one Protestant here disagrees with another Protestant there as to the exact list of essentials. This unreasonably bypasses the clear essentials that do unite Protestant groups; that one part of a project is difficult or unresolvable does not render the whole difficult or unresolvable.

Additionally, such an appeal is easily overturned with a similar comparison between what one Catholic here claims as the essentials and what one Catholic there otherwise claims as the essentials. If disagreement at the periphery disqualifies any and every attempt to identify essentials, then every religious community must be agnostic as to their nature.

What would be of significance is if Protestants could not even provide a general account. Here, of course, we run into that critical issue of defining our terms--just what is meant by Protestant will greatly affect the outcome of any potential critique along these lines. But I leave it to our theological opponents, should they so desire it, to fill out the rest of the argument.