Co-missioners,
I was there to look and listen in 2012 when Dr. Robert Kolb, the Luther scholar and historian, graced a Crossings conference with a sweeping overview of how Lutherans, beginning with Luther, have thought and taught about matters that are these days discussed under the rubric of “discipleship.”
It was a rich and masterful presentation we got to hear that day—and I, of course, promptly forgot most all of it. This puts me ever so happily in debt today to my co-editor Robin Lütjohann who unearthed this gem on our website a couple of weeks ago and saw how germane it was to the matters at issue in our 2026 Crossings conference which wrapped up only yesterday. Last Robin introduced and reposted Part One of the Kolb essay. I then took the liberty of dividing the remainder into two more parts.
The logic for this was compelling. Last week’s opening salvo focused on the way Luther and his key colleagues and immediate successors understood the relationship between what Christians trust (aka “faith”) and what they do (aka “works”). In this week’s Part Two you’ll find Dr. Kolb teaching us more than most of us had known before about how Luther’s “orthodox” successors of the 17th century addressed this same relationship in ways—not quite Luther’s—that would shape attitudes I grew up with in the second half of the 20th century. In next week’s Part Three you’ll get a glimpse of how Lutheran attitudes and pieties have been continually reconfigured from the days of Philip Spener until now.
After that will come the question of how we encourage others in 2026 not only to exhibit the life of Christ but to revel in it. “Come, Holy Spirit. Guide as well!”
With thanks again to Dr. Kolb for this feast of thought—
Jerry Burce, Co-editor,
for the Crossings Community
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Discipleship in the Lutheran Tradition
(Part 2)
by Robert Kolb
Dr. Robert Kolb
The sixteenth-century disciples of Luther and Melanchthon continued to emphasize that the Christian life is a life of repentance, in the midst of an eschatological battle with Satan and all his minions, they also believed. About mid-century a new literary genre arose and flourished for a generation in the Wittenberg circle—and was peculiar to it—as a means of calling for repentance and for instructing in the new obedience which flows from faith: the “devil book,” the “Teufelsbuch.” The devil played a relatively small role in this genre, but he provided the occasion for focusing on a variety of sins that plagued the baptized of the later sixteenth century. While placing full responsibility for violating God’s law on sinners, these works also highlighted the devil’s wiles and the formidable conflict, not with flesh and blood, but with principalities and powers, that confronts the baptized. Several of these works addressed problems of faith: Andreas Fabricius’ Holy, Clever, and Learned Devil, opposing the First Commandment of God, opposing Faith, and opposing Christ (1567), Simon Musaeus’s Melancholy Devil, Andreas Lange’s The Worry Devil, or Against the Pagan Worry over the Belly or Bodily Sustenance (1573). [1] Others addressed the actual sins of peasants, artisans, merchants, and nobles, with implications for personal behavior and social deviation. Andreas Musculus’s Trousers Devil excoriated the rich young men, burgher and noble, of Frankfurt an der Oder for their sexually explicit mode of dress and called them to repentance with fierce threats of God’s judgment. The hunting practices of the nobility and the consequent losses suffered by peasants for the sake of the hunt brought Cyriakus Spangenberg’s expression of God’s wrath down upon his superiors. [2]
The Ratzeburger home (see Part 1) may not have been typical in German, Nordic, Baltic, and Slavic Lutheranism in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, but the large number of devotional books in one form or another indicates an increasing use of such materials for personal and family edification. [3] Sermon books served the purpose—and not only German homiletical collections but also the first work published in Latvian, the postil of Georg Mancelius (1654), aimed at such a cultivation of trust in the Savior and the practice of a life which reflected his love. [4] Similarly Bernhard Liess’s study of the published sermons of Johann Heermann, pastor and hymn-writer, focuses on Christ’s person and work, the use of the means of grace in personal devotion as well as congregational life, and on personal repentance. [5]
Mancelius wrote for use by preaching pastors and the devotion-leading heads of households, but others wrote specifically for individual or family meditation. Never completely free from the mystical side of the monastic piety which had sustained Luther in part on his way to his evangelical maturation, Lutheran tradition contains some formative thinkers who returned to certain elements of that way of coping with reality in the late sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. One example of this literature is found in the writings of a Silesian pastor, Valerius Herberger (1562-1627), who suffered persecution from Counter-Reformation forces in Fraustadt, where Lutherans were thrown out of their church but did get to build a chapel. He promoted a s strong personal trust in Jesus with meditations on Bible texts, which found symbols of aspects of the person and work of Christ at every turn but which did little to cultivate new obedience in daily interaction with other human beings. His works treated the passion stories, the Psalms, the pericopes, and Genesis, among others. They reflect a change of mood from the mid-sixteenth century, a more “spiritual” kind of engagement and exchange with God.
Luther’s style of piety requires exertion, for loving the neighbor in the boring grind of the every day is hard work and often not at all exciting. Luther preached the joys which await us in heaven but focused largely on surviving Satan’s assaults and taking care of family and neighbors on a day-to-day basis. Perhaps because other forms of religiosity seem more religious, or perhaps because life in the seventeenth century was evermore grueling and arduous, due particularly to the war, Lutheran piety took a turn toward the other-worldly in a more intense way than we notice in its first two generations. That is seen both in the relatively little attention paid to service in vocation in the daily course of life as well as a more emotional and also other-worldly expression of devotion to Jesus.
Herberger’s reflections on the verses of Genesis sought to exposit “the mysteries of Christ” found there, training readers to think upon the Savior in complete dependence on the Holy Spirit, and with a focus on his suffering and death. He began: “Dearest Reader! Since ‘no one can call Jesus “Lord” except in the Holy Spirit’, and no one can say, write, or think anything beneficial, comforting, or noteworthy about Jesus without God’s Spirit, and since the Holy Spirit’s particular work of grace is to reveal Jesus Christ to our heart and to make Him known: therefore may you first begin by appealing to God the Father in the name of our sweet Lord and Savior Jesus Christ for the light and grace of the Holy Spirit, that you may be able to read this beneficial, comforting work profitably, piously, and to your betterment. [6] The attitude of total reliance upon Christ led Herberger to pray with his readers, ““If I am wrapt in sickness and the anguish of death, if language escapes me and my lips cannot speak, nevertheless, I will groan in my heart, O Lord Jesus, essential Word of the heavenly Father! . . . Prove now that You are my Spokesman, my Advocate, and my Witness.” [7]
The Wittenberg heritage combined with incipient Baroque style to shape the readers’ thinking through the use of intricate literary devices, including metaphors or allegories elaborating on words and phrases of the biblical text, sometimes with more, sometimes less connection to the text itself. Mention of the mustard seed which served as a red dye recalled the blood of Jesus; the use of mustard seeds smoked over coals to ward against snakes reminds readers that Jesus was placed as an offering on the coals of the Father’s wrath to repel Satan’s forces [8]. The “fish and birds” of Genesis 1:21 produce the comparison of Jesus with seven birds; the honeybee provides ten points of comparison with Jesus, the “broody hen” eight. [9] The shedding of Abel’s blood opened a discussion of the vicarious atonement in twelve points of comparison. [10] Not careful exegesis nor the intent of the author but rather the edification of the pious of his own time commanded Herberger’s modus operandi as he moved from the text to Christ’s work in the first century and its significance in the seventeenth. Herberger’s aids for meditation cultivated a sense of repentance in readers but provided little direct encouragement for serving the neighbor and fulfilling one’s callings in home, occupation, society, or, for that matter, the congregation. The charge that Lutheran Orthodoxy perpetrated an individualization and spiritualization of the faith seems justified in Herberger’s work.
Out of this mood of devotional writing grew the concept of an “unio mystica” that united Christ and the believer, propagated, among other sources, by the posthumously edited writings of the Wittenberg-educated Saxon pastor Valentin Weigel (1533-1588). In part out of independent roots, in part to counter the mystical, neo-platonic approach found in the Weigel bequest, forms of piety developed within the “Orthodox” teaching at the university that developed significantly different emphases than Luther had accented while trying to remain within the structure of Christian faith and life which Luther had constructed. [11] The publication of Weigel’s ideas attracted the immediate criticism of Wittenberg professor Nikolaus Hunnius of Wittenberg. His colleague Friedrich Balduin also rejected Weigelianism but argued that a certain union between God and his human creatures takes place through the Word in which God is present and which establishes trust in Christ, who through faith dwells in believers’ hearts. This indwelling is not substantial however, he insisted.
Balduin’s ideas formed the basis of the thinking of one of the most popular of Lutheran writers, who cultivated the life of following Christ through the seventeenth century and into the twentieth, Johann Arndt. Arndt’s opposition to the introduction of Calvinism had earned him exile from Anhalt, and as superintendent of the Lutheran church of Braunschweig-Lüneburg he authored some of the most widely read devotional materials in subsequent Lutheran history. Some scholars have argued that Arndt fully abandoned reliance on the means of grace for an inward spirituality that posited a substantial union between believer and God. Eric Lund has recently shown that in his pericopal sermons, published and widely distributed in his own day, Arndt indeed was proclaiming to his hearers a piety rooted in the external word of promise that forgives sins and moves God’s children to lives of devotion and communion with God through the Word as well as service within the callings of daily life to the neighbor. [12] His True Christianity and Little Garden of Paradise did seek to cultivate a practical piety but did so by emphasizing the spiritual communion and union of the follower of Christ with the Lord in mystical expressions.
Other parish pastors in Arndt’s generation and the next found the mystical union a helpful description of the relationship between God and his chosen children but stressed that this union does not result in any substantial “divinization” of the human being. Philipp Nicolai and Statius Buscher (d. 1641), superintendent in Lübeck, both Orthodox in their teaching, insisted that the relationship of bride and bridegroom, a union which preserves and enhances the distinct identities of the two, bound believers to their Lord in working for common goals, and this viewpoint persisted over the century. The Orthodox dogmatician and parish pastor David Hollaz (1648-1713) distinguished the formal or relational union of faith with its personal object, God, from the mystical or sanctifying unity of God and believer: faith justifies and results in indwelling of (the totally distinct) Creator; God is present in the believer’s repentance and justifying faith and that presence produces the life of devotion and service that marks the children of God.
From Canva
In differing forms of expression this mood of devotional writing is found in the two most popular authors of the genre: the aforementioned parish pastor and ecclesiastical official Johann Arndt (1555-1621), whose Four/Six Books on True Christianity and Little Garden of Paradise attracted criticism in his own day as spiritualistic and continue to be read in that manner today, and Johann Gerhard (1582-1637), perhaps the most prominent of the so-called Orthodox Lutheran dogmaticians and who had found in Arndt’s personal counsel the peace of conscience for which Luther had striven. Eric Lund has shown that Arndt’s postils demonstrated a more traditional, means-of-grace-based sense of the pious life than he displayed in his devotional bestsellers [13], and Gerhard’s work certainly did that. Both sought to nurture an intimate trust in Christ and the rhythm of repentance that turns in horror and sorrow from sin to him.
Gerhard’s Sacred Meditations grew out of a bout with serious illness as a young man, and it begins with thoughts on “the true recognition of sin”: “every hour I think about death because death is looming every hour. Every hour I think of Judgment because an account must be rendered for every day at the Last Judgment. … My actions are vain and useless, and many of my words are vain, and many of my thoughts are even vainer.” [14] He responds, “To whom, then should I flee? To you, O holy Christ, our only Redeemer and Savior. My sins are great, but your satisfaction is greater; my unrighteousness is great, but your righteousness is greater.” [15] Indeed, “the foundation and beginning of a holy life is salutary repentance.” [16] It leads to faith, “a lively and efficacious apprehension of Christ,” uniting us again with our Savior, and producing all virtues. [17] Without Herberger’s allegorical improvisations on biblical images, and with a strong emphasis on the use of the oral, written, and sacramental forms of God’s Word, Gerhard moved on to the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of love and harmony, who “joins us to Christ through faith, … to God through love, and … unites us with our neighbor through loving affection.” [18]The Meditations does not offer instruction in the conduct of daily life as Gerhard does in his postils, but Meditation Twenty-Eight does present “general rules for a godly life”: “Live dutifully toward God, upright with regard to yourself, and justly toward your neighbor. Act graciously toward your friends, patiently with your enemies, benevolently toward everyone, and also generously, as far as are able. While you live, die daily to yourself and to your vices, so that when you die, you may live unto God. Show mercy always in the disposition of your mind, kindness in your countenance, humility in your manner. Modesty in your dealings with others, and patience in tribulation.” [19]The focus on the personal attitude and disposition received here offered no guidance for taking larger social responsibilities seriously, though that realm was not neglected in the preaching of the period.
Jonathan Strom’s study of the reform efforts of the “orthodox” clergy of Rostock in the third quarter of the seventeenth century shows a deep concern among clergy and other civic leaders over the increasing “unfaithfulness” of the laity, despite active participation by most in the religious obligations of worship attendance and outward conformity to the commandments. The sermonic call for repentance sounded constantly from their pulpits. [20] Johann Jakob Fabricius promoted reform efforts in behalf of the integrity of the church over against secular authorities and the lives of the faithful in Schwelm (county of Mark), earning dismissal from office. [21] Princes could also support the cultivation of piety: Ernst the Pious of Saxe-Gotha was a good example of the pious prince who strove to inculcate religion among his subjects, though with at best mixed success. [22] Alongside any question of “success” is the question of how skillfully any of these authors actually employed Luther’s distinction of law and gospel, to what extent they grounded the performance of the Christian in the promise of life fashioned by God in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
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Endnotes
[1] See Heinrich Grimm, “Die deutschen ‘Teufelbücher’ des 16. Jahrhunderts. Ihre Rolle im Buchwesen und ihre Bedeutung,” Archiv für die Geschichte des Buchwesens 16 (1959).
[2] These works by Musculus and Spangenberg are discussed in Robert Kolb, “The Devil & the Well-Born. Proclamation of the Law to the Privileged in the Late Reformation,” in Let Christ Be Christ, Theology, Ethics & World Religions in the Two Kingdoms, Essays in Honor of . . . Charles L. Manske, ed. Daniel N. Harmelink (Huntington Beach, CA: Tentatio, 1999), 161-171.
[3] See Christopher Boyd Brown, “Devotional Life in Hymns, Liturgy, Music, and Prayer,” in Lutheran Ecclesiastical Culture, 205-258; cf. on the use of such literature and other forms of popular piety, see Robert Christman, “The Pulpit and the Pew: Shaping popular Piety in the Late Reformation,” ibid., 259-303.
[4] Jānis Krēsliņš, Dominus narrabit in scriptura populorum. A Study of Early Seventeenth-Century Lutheran Teaching and Preaching in theLettische lang-gewünschte Postill of Georg Mancelius (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1992).
[5] Johann Heerman (1585-1647): Prediger in Schlesien zur Zeit des Dreißigjährigen Krieges (Münster: LIT Verlag, 2003).
[6[ Valerius Herberger, The Great Works of God. Parts One and Two: The Mysteries of Christ in the Book of Benesis, Cahpter 1-15, trans. Matthew Carner (Saint Louis: Concordia, 2010), 15.
[7] Ibid., 58.
[8] Ibid., 83.
[9] Ibid., 96-101.
[10] Ibid., 245-251.
[11] The following discussion relies heavily on Theodor Mahlmann: “Die Stellung der unio cum Christo in der lutherischen Theologie des 17. Jahrhunderts, in Unio. Godd und Mensch in der nachreformatorischen Theologie, ed. Matti Repo and Rainer Vinke, Helsinki: Luther-Agricola-Gesellschaft, 1996, 72-199.
[12] Lund, “‘modus docendi mysticus’: The Interpretation of the Bible in Johann Arndt’s Postilla,” in: Hermeneutica Sacra. Studien zur Auslegung der Heiligen Schrift im 16.- und 17. Jahrhundert / Studies of the Interpretation of Holy Scripture in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, Torbjörn Johansson, Robert Kolb, and Johann Anselm Steiger (eds.) (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2010).
[13] Eric Lund, “‘modus docendi mysticus.’ The Interpretation of the Bible in Johann Arndt’s Postilla” in Hermeneutica sacra. Studien zur Auslegung der Heiligen Schrift im 16.- und 17. Jahrhundert / Studies of the Interpretation of Holy Scripture in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, ed. Torbjörn Johansson et al. (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2010).
[14] Seventeenth-Century Lutheran Meditations and hymns, ed. Eric Lund (New York: Paulist Press, 2011), 43.
[15] Ibid., 45.
[16] Ibid., 48.
[17] Ibid., 71.
[18] Ibid., 94-95.
[19] Ibid., 112.
[20] Jonathan Strom, Orthodoxy and Reform: The Clergy in Seventeenth Century Rostock (Tübingen: Mohr
Siebeck, 1999).
[21] Harm Klueting, Reformatio vitae Johann Jakob Fabricius (1618/1620)-1673. Ein Beitrag zu Konfessionalisierung und Sozialdisziplinierung im Luthertum des 17. Jahrhunderts (Münster: LIT Verlag, 2003).
[22] See note 60 above.
