De Servo Arbitrio

by Donavon Riley

Erasmus of Rotterdam was popularly known as, the “prince of the humanists.” His contemporaries and modern scholars alike have recognized his influence on sixteenth century reformers as well as political and religious leaders of the same era. It is not an exaggeration to state that Erasmus’ contributions to the principles of sixteenth century humanism and Christianity in general are without peer. Whereas his primary opponent prior to Luther, Ulrich von Hutten:

“reflected the romantic nationalism of northern Italian humanism, Desiderius Erasmus of Rotterdam was in every respect a cosmopolitan, optimistically devoted to the restoration of the unity of Christendom. In his life and work the movement begun by the members of the Platonic academy in Florence and continued by Reuchlin in Germany, Colet and More in England, and Lefevre in France reached its highest stage of development. Based upon Stoic, Platonic, and Christian ethics, influenced by the mysticism of the Brethren of the Common Life, and strengthened by the writings of the church fathers, the humanism of Erasmus laid particular emphasis upon the inwardness of religion, virtuous living, and moral social relationships.”

The success of Erasmus’ writings and popularity, however, also brought opposition and enemies. Perhaps as a direct result of his emphasis on public virtue and moral social responsibility, Erasmus was fond of satirizing those in authority he saw as providing an immoral example for “the common herd,” especially the Pope and the emperor. A consequence of this was, by 1524, Erasmus could have claimed as many detractors amongst the clergy and faculties of Europe as Luther.

So it was that when Erasmus published de libero Arbitrio he was, despite his aversion to public quarrels, thrust into open contention against Luther. He did not seek open public quarrel with Luther, but with the number of voices who questioned Erasmus’ loyalties to the Roman curia and the emperor rising in volume he was compelled to publish something in his own defense. As Erasmus wrote to fellow humanist, Willibald Pirkheimer in 1522, “The ill will of certain people has so swamped me in hate that anything I try is vain… the Lutherans threaten openly with their abusive writings, and the emperor is as good as convinced that I am the source and head of the whole Luther tumult. So I run into greatest danger on both sides, while having made them both indebted to me.”

Erasmus believed there was little else he could do. Opponents such as the papal nuncio Aleander were unremitting in their accusations, aligning Erasmus with Luther and the other Wittenbergers. As Erasmus noted on one occasion, “I had intended to write something, not against Luther but for concord. But I now see both parties so in heat, that it is better to remain silent.” And yet, “a few lines further on, a theme occurs to him that he will choose for the confrontation: the freedom of the will.” The topic to be considered had not been an arbitrary one though. For, “it had angered him that several theologians,” Luther included, “had objected to his paraphrasing of Romans 9 claiming that he had given the human will too great a significance.”

The only way out of his troubles was to begin putting distance between himself and the views of Luther. Erasmus had initially sought a way to address his concerns without publicly challenging Luther, and to do it in such a way that his opponents would be mollified. However, Erasmus’ initial plan for writing three dialogues describing the issues standing between him and Luther never reached fruition. Instead, private letters – those of Luther and Erasmus – were acquired by publishers and distributed. The result was Erasmus grew more and more disquieted by Luther’s apparent lack of respect. As he learned from Oecolampadius on June 20, 1523 Luther had even included Erasmus in his lectures on Isaiah, saying:

“What Erasmus knows about judging spiritual questions, or what he pretends to know, is borne out amply in his writings, from the first to the latest. I am not insensitive to his assorted barbs, but while outwardly he acts as though he is not my foe, I do the same, as though I did not understand his cunning – although I catch on better than he realizes. He has delivered in the field to which he was called; he has introduced us to languages and steered us away from the godless studies (of scholasticism). Perhaps, like Moses, he will die in the plains of Moab, for he is unlikely to advance to the higher studies (which cultivate the fear of God)… He has done enough in exposing the evil. (So far as I can see) he is unable to show us the good and to lead us into the promised land.”

When Erasmus read the letter he complained to Ulrich Zwingli, “I am not much to be trusted in matters concerning the Spirit. I don’t know what that should mean.” “I’d like to learn from you, learned Zwingli, what kind of a spirit that is.” In another letter to Zwingli, dated from 1523, Erasmus further complains that Luther speaks in “riddles and paradoxes, listing among them the view that ‘free will’ is an ‘empty word’.”

What followed was Erasmus’ decision to publish the tract de libero Arbitrio. This was not only calculated to disentangle himself from accusations of false teaching but likewise, to put distance between himself and comparisons to Luther. The publication of the tract in 1524 provided just the opportunity, as well as an opening for some in authority, such as King Henry VIII of England, the emperor, the papal legate Aleander, and Duke George, to thrust “the prince of the humanists” into open confrontation with the apostate monk from Wittenberg.

The treatise “was well received by the Pope and the Emperor, and was praised by Henry VIII who had written against Luther in 1521 and to whom Erasmus had sent a first draft before its publication.” So, with his loyalties now secured, Erasmus was positioned to strike at Luther. Writing to Duke George, Erasmus saw Luther “as one of the long line of those used by God – like Pharaoh, the Philistines, Nebuchadnezzar and the Romans – to chastise the chosen people for their own good, a necessary scourge.” Similarly Erasmus wrote in correspondence with Henry Stromer, “whatever Luther’s opinion of me may be, when it comes to a question of faith I obviously consider him of little worth.”

Of course Luther was aware of such criticisms while readying de Servo Arbitrio for publication in December of 1525. He, for his part, was convinced Erasmus had become “an enemy of God and the Christian religion, an Epicurian and a serpent, and he was not afraid to say so.” This was not mere invective on Luther’s part. His response to Erasmus was more than a polite contribution to a literary dual. His treatise “deals directly and uncompromisingly with the basic principles of religion – the nature of God and the nature of men – and as such led to the production of one of the enduring monuments of evangelical doctrine, a masterpiece in the realm of polemics, dogmatics and exegesis – Martin Luther’s de Servo Arbitrio.”

The debate that emerged between Luther and Erasmus during 1525 was not only a dispute regarding the role of the human will in salvation. At issue was an argument about the basic principles of true theology and true knowledge of God. Luther recognized in Erasmus’ challenge the fundamental err committed by theologia gloriae. Theologians of glory do not speak of the crucified and hidden God. Instead they speak about God in such a way that the “invisible things of God” become clear from the works of creation. The God hidden in sufferings and the Cross was alien to E
rasmus who failed, according to Luther, to properly distinguish between the hidden God and the revealed God: between God or the will of God as preached, revealed and worshipped and God as he is not preached, revealed and worshipped. In consequence, Erasmus’ theology of glory will not allow him to accept the radical bondage of the will Luther heard and experienced when God revealed himself in his word of the Cross.

Although this way of speaking may have sounded radical to Erasmus, this was not a new teaching Luther came up with in 1525. “Luther came to realize the radical bondage of the will, not in the face of the challenge of Erasmus as the advocate of the freedom of the will, but as soon as he comprehended the pure Gospel.” As early as a disputation in 1516 Luther argued, “the will of man without grace is not free, but enslaved… a year later, in the Disputatio contra scholasticum theologiam, Luther asserts:

“It is not true that the free effort [of man] is able [to decide] on either of two opposed courses. Rather it is not free at all, but captive. It is not true that the will is by nature able to follow right guidance… Man cannot of his nature desire that God should be God; on the contrary, he desires that he himself might be God and that God might not be God… The best and infallible preparation and the sole disposition to grace is the eternal election and predestination of God.”

At Heidelberg he re-stated his position again, arguing that “to speak of free will after the fall is mere words. If it [this so-called free will] does what lies in its power it commits mortal sin.”

The theory of the free will for Luther was the foremost example of how sinners plumb the depths of the hidden God in order to place themselves above God. In the argument between Luther and Erasmus this emerges in the dispute over what the Scripture intends when it asserts God hardened Pharaoh’s heart. As is indicative of theologia gloriae the assertion offended Erasmus. The formulation negates his whole argument about free choice. So, Erasmus sets about trying to find a way out for God and human beings. To do this he employs a trope, a figure of speech. For Erasmus, what Scripture actually says is not to be read literally, it was just a way of speaking. He concludes that what really occurred is Pharaoh hardened his own heart when God withdrew himself. To save free choice Erasmus must literally move God out of the way. In this way of reading Scripture, Erasmus gets God off the hook for punishing Pharaoh and more importantly spares his theory of free will. For Luther, Erasmus’ turn of phrase pictures God as he would have him behave. It finally achieves the goal of placing sinners above God even though,

“free will is in reality a fabrication, a mere turn of phrase without reality.” “For no one has the power of himself even to think something good or evil, but everything… is derived from absolute necessity.” For sinners swept up in the contention between God’s sovereignty and freedom, that is, human righteousness, “everyone in his own heart pictures God as he thinks God ought to act.”

Finally, Luther’s response to de libero Arbitrio should not be read as merely a treatise filled with harsh judgments directed at Erasmus’ theological opinions. Luther’s Bondage of the Will is a great reversal of previous methods and ideas about the Cross. It likewise provides the material for determining the Gospel against “modern men of all eras.” Erasmus’ opinions stand not only as representative of Dutch pietism and Italian learning in general but as a kind of prototype of the modern evangelical Christian. And, “he was that in the sense that he sincerely wanted to be a theologian of grace.” Erasmus lays out his argument for a theology of grace and free will in much the same way modern Protestants have done since the Enlightenment.

One scholar who has conducted an extended historical examination of this position was Harry McSorley. Despite offering a traditional Roman-Catholic response to Luther’s assertions in de Servo Arbitrio, McSorley put forth a helpful clarification of the Erasmian position for both Roman Catholic as well as Protestant scholars. McSorley explained that Erasmus was not particularly adept at defining his point of view theologically and not overly careful about scholastic terminology, since he had something of a distaste for such theological hair-splitting. There is also, however, a counter tendency by modern Luther scholars such as McSorley to de-emphasize Erasmus’ proto-modern theology of grace. They have moved to point out Erasmus’ ignorance of the decisions of the early church counsels as well as his failure to clearly define and understand scholastic theological terminology. In this way modern scholars have sought to distance and detach Erasmus from the normative Thomistic doctrine of the day. On the other hand, Luther’s position in de Servo Arbitrio is homogenized by placing his assertions within the context of previous theological traditions. When McSorley explains Luther’s “biblical and Catholic concept of Servum Arbitrium” he moves to tie Luther to previously existing views writing,

“We have found much to criticize in Luther’s necessitarian concept of servum arbitrium. Nearly all of our criticism has been directed against Luther’s use of such non-biblical concepts as necessity and contingency. Other points of criticism were raised against Luther’s exaggerated interpretation of the biblical doctrine concerning Satan, the hardening of Pharaoh’s heart and the significance of the law. When we turn to Luther’s strictly biblical concept of man’s enslavement by sin, however, we recognize at once a doctrine of servum arbitrium that is fully in conformity with the Catholic tradition of Augustine, Anselm, Peter Lombard, Thomas Aquinas, et al., as well as with the teaching of the Second Council of Orange and of the Council of Trent.”

This approach has led many scholars like McSorley to frame Luther’s theological assertions within Erasmus’ anthropology. This is an unfortunate consequence, first, to appreciate Luther’s positive starting point. Second, it leads to a misunderstanding of how Luther asserts theologia crucis as the first premise in his distinction between law and the Gospel. When one fully considers how Luther works to express the crucified and hidden God in Christ’s Cross, Erasmus’ starting point in anthropology is irrelevant for Luther. Luther begins with the crucified God, as does any theologian of the Cross, and God is then allowed to “be God” however uncomplimentary that may be for humans. Once Luther’s positive starting point is disentangled from Erasmus’ pessimism in search of some small but reasonable optimism – an attempt that was always preoccupied with the question of how one keeps freedom in check, how to bind freedom up and prevent people from descending into moral turpitude – one may “deduce the entire scope of Luther’s thinking.”