CHAPTER FOURTEEN: On Christian Liberty
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
On Christian Liberty
We must now treat Christian liberty, which anyone proposing to present a brief summary of evangelical doctrine ought not to neglect. For it is exceedingly necessary. Without knowledge of it, consciences scarcely dare undertake anything without doubt; they frequently hesitate and stop, and always tremble and waver.
Although we have touched upon it several times above, we have reserved the full discussion for this place. For as soon as Christian liberty is mentioned, some immediately give free rein to their desires, while others stir up great disturbances unless measures are taken at once to restrain such reckless minds, which corrupt the best things that could be presented to them.
Under the pretext of this liberty, some cast off all obedience to God and give their flesh unrestricted license. Others oppose the doctrine and refuse even to hear of this liberty, supposing that it overthrows all order, moderation, and proper discernment.
What shall we do, caught within such narrow straits? Would it not be better to leave Christian liberty aside in order to avoid such dangers?
But, as has been said, without knowledge of it neither Jesus Christ nor the truth of the gospel is properly known. We must therefore take care that this necessary doctrine is neither neglected nor buried, while at the same time restraining the absurd objections that may be raised against it.
Christian liberty, in my judgment, consists of three parts.
The first is that the consciences of believers, when seeking assurance of their justification, must rise above the law and forget all the righteousness of the law. For since the law, as has been shown above, leaves no one righteous, either we must be excluded from every hope of justification or we must be delivered from the law—and delivered in such a way that we pay no regard to our works.
For whoever supposes that he must contribute even a small measure of works in order to obtain righteousness can establish neither limit nor measure for them, but makes himself a debtor to the whole law.
Therefore, when our justification is in question, we must put away every thought of the law and our works, embrace the mercy of God alone, and turn our gaze away from ourselves to Jesus Christ alone.
The question here is not whether we are righteous, but how, though unrighteous and unworthy, we may be accounted righteous. If consciences desire any certainty concerning this matter, they must give no place to the law.
Yet no one should infer from this that the law is superfluous to believers. It continues to teach, exhort, and spur them toward what is good, although it has no place in their consciences before God’s judgment. Since these two matters are very different, we must carefully distinguish them.
The whole life of Christians ought to be a meditation upon and exercise in godliness, since they are called to sanctification. The office of the law is to show them what they ought to do, thereby stirring them to pursue holiness and innocence.
But when consciences are troubled over how they may find God favorable toward them, what answer they will give, and upon what confidence they may stand if summoned to appear before God’s judgment, they must not then reckon with the law or consider what it requires. Rather, they must present Jesus Christ alone as their righteousness, who surpasses every perfection of the law.
Almost the entire argument of the Epistle to the Galatians rests upon this point. It is easy to prove from Saint Paul’s manner of reasoning that those are perverse interpreters who claim that he contends only for liberty from the ceremonies. For example, he says:
“Christ became a curse for us so that he might deliver us from the curse of the law.”
Again:
“Stand firm in the liberty by which Christ has set us free, and do not permit yourselves to be subjected again to the yoke of bondage.”
And:
“Behold, I, Paul, tell you that if you are circumcised, Christ will profit you nothing. Whoever is circumcised is a debtor to the whole law, and Christ has become of no effect to him. All of you who are justified by the law have fallen from grace.”
These statements certainly concern something higher than liberty from ceremonies.
The second part of Christian liberty, which depends upon the first, is this: consciences do not serve the law as though constrained by its necessity, but, having been delivered from the law’s yoke, freely obey the will of God.
For as long as they remain subject to the law, they are continually filled with fear and terror. They will therefore never be properly resolved to obey God’s will voluntarily and with a free heart unless they first obtain this deliverance.
An example will show more briefly and clearly where this teaching leads. The commandment of the law is that we should love God with all our heart, all our soul, and all our strength.
To fulfill this commandment, the soul must first be emptied of every other thought, the heart purified of every other desire, and all our powers wholly devoted to God.
But even those who have advanced furthest in the way of God remain far from this goal. For although they love God with sincere affection and purity of heart, a great part of their heart and soul is still filled with fleshly desires. These hinder and draw them back, preventing them from running toward God as they ought.
They earnestly strive to advance, but the flesh partly weakens their strength and partly turns it toward itself.
What, then, shall they do when they see that they come nowhere near fulfilling the law? They will, they aspire, and they strive, but never with the perfection required. If they look to the law, they see that everything they might undertake to do remains under its curse.
No one should deceive himself by supposing that his work is not altogether evil merely because it is imperfect, or that God nevertheless accepts whatever good may be found in it. For the law, requiring perfect love, condemns every imperfection. Let anyone who holds such an opinion of his work examine it carefully, and he will discover that what he judged to be good in it is a transgression of the law.
Thus all our works remain bound under the curse of the law if they are measured by its rule. And how could poor souls take courage to perform any work from which they could expect nothing but a curse?
On the other hand, if, being delivered from this rigorous demand of the law—or rather, from all its rigor—they see themselves called by God with fatherly gentleness, they will then cheerfully and freely follow wherever he wills to lead them.
In sum, those held captive under the bonds of the law are like servants whose masters assign them a fixed amount of work for each day. Such servants believe they have accomplished nothing and dare not appear before their masters unless they have perfectly completed everything commanded them.
But children, who are treated more generously and gently by their fathers, do not fear to present to them work that is rough, halffinished, and even defective, trusting that their obedience and good intention will please their father, although they have not accomplished what they desired.
We must therefore be like children, never doubting that our most gracious and compassionate Father will accept our services, although they are imperfect and defective, as he himself confirms through the Prophet:
“I will spare them as a father spares the children who serve him.”
Here the word “spare” means to bear with them graciously, since he also makes mention of their service.
This assurance is exceedingly necessary for us, for without it all our labor will be in vain. God does not regard himself as honored by our works unless they are truly performed for his honor. And how could we perform them for his honor amid such fears and doubts, when we remain uncertain whether he is offended or honored by them?
For this reason, the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews attributes all the good works of the ancient Fathers to faith and estimates their value according to faith.
We have a notable passage concerning this liberty in the Epistle to the Romans, where Saint Paul concludes that sin must not rule over us because we are not under the law but under grace. For after exhorting believers:
“Do not let sin reign in your mortal body, and do not present your members to sin as instruments of unrighteousness, but dedicate yourselves to God as those raised from the dead, and your members to God as instruments of righteousness.”
—because they might object that they still carry with them flesh filled with sinful desire and that sin continues to dwell within them, he adds this consolation, which he derives from freedom from the law.
It is as though he said: Although believers do not yet perceive sin extinguished within them or the life of righteousness brought to perfection, they must not despair or lose courage, as though God were angry with them because of these remnants of sin. For by God’s grace they have been set free from the law, so that their works are no longer examined according to its rule.
Those who infer that they may freely sin because we are no longer under the law should understand that this liberty does not belong to them at all, since its purpose is to stir and lead us toward what is good.
The third part of Christian liberty instructs us not to burden our consciences before God concerning outward things that are in themselves indifferent. It teaches us that we may either use them or abstain from them freely.
Knowledge of this liberty is also exceedingly necessary. If we lack it, our consciences will never find rest but will remain endlessly entangled in superstition.
Many people today suppose that we are unwise to raise questions about whether we are free to eat meat, whether the observance of particular days and the use of various kinds of clothing are matters of liberty, and other such trifles, as they regard them. But these matters are more important than is commonly supposed.
For once consciences have bridled and bound themselves, they enter an endless labyrinth and a deep abyss from which they afterward find no easy escape.
If someone begins to doubt whether it is lawful to use linen for sheets, shirts, handkerchiefs, and towels, he will afterward be no more certain whether he may use hemp. Eventually, he will begin to waver over whether he may use even coarse flax fibers. For he will reason within himself that he could eat without a towel and manage without handkerchiefs.
If someone comes to believe that food slightly more delicate than other food is forbidden, he will eventually not dare, with a clear conscience before God, to eat either coarse bread or ordinary food, because the thought will always occur to him that he might sustain his life on still poorer fare.
If he has scruples about drinking good wine, he will afterward be unable with a peaceful conscience to drink spoiled or stale wine, or finally even water that is better or clearer than other water.
In short, he will be brought to such a point that he will regard stepping across a straw lying sideways as a grievous sin. For this is no minor conflict that begins within the conscience. The question at stake is whether it pleases God that we use these things or abstain from them.
God’s will must precede all our deliberations and actions. Consequently, some must necessarily be cast into confusion through despair, while others, having rejected and driven away all fear of God, rush past every restraint because they cannot see the proper way.
For all who are entangled in such doubts encounter an offense to their conscience whichever way they turn.
Saint Paul says:
“I know that nothing is unclean in itself, except to the person who regards something as unclean; to him it is unclean.”
By these words, he submits all outward things to our liberty, provided our consciences possess a certain assurance of this liberty before God. But if some superstitious opinion fills us with scruples, things pure by their own nature become defiled to us.
Therefore, he afterward says:
“Blessed is the one who does not condemn himself in what he approves. But whoever has doubts about something is condemned if he does it contrary to his judgment, because he does not act from faith; and whatever does not proceed from faith is sin.”
Those who, caught within such narrow straits, nevertheless dare to do everything contrary to their consciences in order to appear bold and courageous—do they not thereby turn away from God?
On the other hand, those more deeply affected by the fear of God fall into dreadful fear and confusion because they are compelled to do many things against their consciences.
All who use things in either of these ways—whether with such boldness against conscience or with such fear and confusion—receive none of God’s gifts with thanksgiving, although Saint Paul testifies that it is through thanksgiving alone that these gifts are sanctified for our use.
By thanksgiving, I mean that which proceeds from a heart recognizing God’s goodness and generosity in his gifts. For many of them understand that the things they use are God’s good gifts and praise God in his works. But since they do not believe that God has given these things to them, how can they thank him as their benefactor?
We see, in sum, the purpose of this liberty: that without scruple of conscience or disturbance of mind, we may apply God’s gifts to the uses for which they were appointed to us. Through this confidence, our souls may possess peace and rest with God and acknowledge his generosity toward us.
We must carefully consider that Christian liberty, in all its parts, is a spiritual matter whose entire power consists in bringing timid consciences into peace with God—whether they labor under doubts concerning the forgiveness of their sins, are anxious and fearful whether their imperfect works, stained by the defilements of their flesh, are pleasing to God, or remain uncertain concerning the use of indifferent things.
This liberty is therefore misunderstood by those who either use it as a pretext for their fleshly desires, abusing God’s gifts for their own pleasure, or imagine that they do not possess liberty unless they display it before others and consequently pay no regard in its exercise to their weaker brothers.
Great faults are committed today in the first of these ways. Few people who possess the means to live extravagantly fail to delight in banquets, clothing, and buildings marked by excessive display and disorderly pomp. They are pleased to distinguish themselves from everyone else in these matters and take marvelous delight in their magnificence.
All this is defended and excused under the pretext of Christian liberty. They say these things are indifferent. I grant this, provided they are used indifferently. But when they are desired with covetousness, displayed with pomp and pride, and indulged in without restraint, they are defiled by such vices.
Saint Paul’s words distinguish indifferent things very well:
“All things are pure to those who are pure, but to the defiled and unbelieving nothing is pure, since their minds and consciences are defiled.”
For why are curses pronounced upon those who are rich, who now possess their consolation, who are filled, who laugh, who sleep upon beds of ivory, who join possession to possession, and whose banquets are accompanied by harps, lutes, tambourines, and wine?
Certainly, ivory, gold, and riches are good creatures of God, permitted and even appointed for human use. Nor is it anywhere forbidden to laugh, to be satisfied with food, to acquire new possessions, to delight in musical instruments, or to drink wine. This is indeed true.
But when someone possesses an abundance of goods, buries himself in pleasures, intoxicates his soul and heart with present delights, and continually seeks new ones, he departs very far from the holy and lawful use of God’s gifts.
Let them therefore put away their evil desires, their outrageous excess, their vain pomp and arrogance, so that they may use God’s gifts with a pure conscience.
Once they have brought their hearts to this sobriety, they will possess the rule for their proper use. But where this temperance is lacking, even common and inexpensive pleasures will exceed due measure.
For this saying is most true: beneath gray cloth or coarse wool there often dwells a heart clothed in purple; and, on the other hand, beneath silk and velvet a humble heart is sometimes concealed.
Therefore, let each person live according to his condition, whether poorly, moderately, or richly, yet in such a way that all recognize that they are nourished by God in order to live, not to immerse themselves in pleasures.
Let them understand that this is the rule of Christian liberty: that they learn with Saint Paul to be content with whatever is set before them and know how to bear both humiliation and honor, hunger and abundance, poverty and wealth.
“I have learned to be content in whatever condition I am. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In everything and in all circumstances, I have learned both to be filled and to hunger, both to abound and to suffer need.”
The second fault of which we have spoken is also widespread. Many behave as though their liberty were neither safe nor complete unless other people witnessed it, and therefore exercise it imprudently and without discernment. By this inconsiderate use, they frequently offend their weaker brothers.
Today we see some who do not think they have properly preserved their liberty unless they take possession of it by eating meat on Friday. I do not reprove them for eating meat, but we must cast from our minds the false notion that we possess no liberty unless we display it at every opportunity.
We must recognize that by our liberty we gain nothing before men, but possess it before God, and that it consists as much in abstaining as in using. If someone truly understands that before God it is altogether indifferent whether he eats meat or eggs or dresses in red or black, that is enough. His conscience is already delivered, and it is to the conscience that the benefit of this liberty belongs.
Therefore, even if he abstains from meat for the rest of his life and never wears more than one color, he is no less free. Indeed, he is free precisely because he abstains with a free conscience.
But the people we have described err most dangerously by paying no regard to the weakness of their brother. We must bear with that weakness in such a way that we do nothing rashly by which he may be caused to stumble.
Someone will say that it is sometimes proper to display our liberty before men. I grant this point also. But we must exercise the greatest care to preserve moderation, so that we do not neglect those who are weak, whom our Lord has particularly commended to our care.
I shall therefore say something here about offenses: how they must be distinguished, which ones must be avoided, and which may be disregarded, so that everyone may determine how his liberty should be exercised among men.
We must observe the common distinction between an offense that is given and one that is taken, since this distinction possesses clear testimony from Scripture and properly expresses its intended meaning.
If anyone, through carelessness, intemperance, or indiscreet rashness, does something at an improper time or place by which the weak and untaught are caused to stumble, it may be said that he has given offense, since the offense arose through his fault. In general, an offense may be said to be given whenever the fault proceeds from the person who performs the action.
An offense is said to be taken when something that was not done intemperately or indiscreetly is nevertheless twisted by the wickedness and malice of others into an occasion of offense. In this case, no offense was given, but wicked people take offense without cause.
Only the weak are injured by the first kind of offense. Those offended by the second are people whose troublesome severity always seeks something to attack and condemn. We shall therefore call the one the offense of the weak and the other the offense of the Pharisees.
We must regulate and moderate the exercise of our liberty so that it yields to the ignorance of our weaker brothers, but not to the severity of the Pharisees.
Saint Paul shows abundantly in many passages how much consideration we owe to the weak:
“Receive those who are weak in faith.”
Again:
“Let us no longer judge one another, but rather take care not to place a stumbling block or occasion of falling before our brother.”
He makes many other statements directed toward the same end, which are better read in their proper place than recited here.
The substance of his teaching is:
“We who are strong ought to bear with the weaknesses of the weak and not please ourselves. Let each of us please his neighbor for his good and edification.”
Elsewhere, he says:
“Take care that your liberty does not become an offense to those who are weak.”
And:
“Eat whatever is sold in the marketplace, asking no question for conscience’ sake. I speak of your conscience, not another person’s.”
—1 Corinthians 10:25, 29
In sum:
“Conduct yourselves so that you give no offense to Jews, Greeks, or the Church of God.”
Again, in another passage
“You have been called to liberty, my brothers. Only do not use your liberty as an opportunity for the flesh, but serve one another through love.”
This is certainly true. Our liberty has not been given to us against our weaker neighbors, to whom love subjects us and makes us servants in every respect. Rather, it has been given so that, possessing peace with God in our consciences, we may also live peaceably with men.
As for the offense of the Pharisees, our Lord’s words show us what regard we should have for it. He commands us to leave them alone and pay no attention to them:
“They are blind guides of the blind.”
The disciples had warned him that the Pharisees were offended by his teaching. He replied that they should be left alone and that no concern should be shown for their offense.
Nevertheless, the matter remains uncertain unless we understand whom we ought to regard as weak and whom as Pharisees. Without this distinction, I do not see how we can exercise our liberty amid occasions of offense, since its exercise would always be exceedingly dangerous.
But it seems to me that Saint Paul clearly determines, both by teaching and example, how far we must restrain our liberty and when we must maintain it despite offense.
When he took Timothy as his companion, he circumcised him; yet he would never consent to circumcise Titus. The actions were different, but there was no change in either his judgment or his intention.
In circumcising Timothy, although he was free from all men, he made himself the servant of all:
“To the Jews I became as a Jew, that I might gain the Jews; to those under the law, as under the law, that I might gain those under the law; to the weak, as weak, that I might gain the weak. I became all things to all men, that I might save many.”
Here we have a proper moderation of our liberty: we may freely abstain from exercising it whenever doing so produces some good.
On the other hand, Saint Paul testifies to his purpose in steadfastly refusing to circumcise Titus when he writes:
“Even Titus, who was with me, though he was a Greek, was not compelled to be circumcised. This matter arose because of false brothers who had secretly entered to spy upon the liberty we possess in Jesus Christ, so that they might reduce us to bondage. We did not yield to them in submission for a single moment, so that the truth of the gospel might remain with you.”
Here, likewise, we see the necessity of defending our liberty whenever the commandments of false apostles threaten to overthrow it in weak consciences.
Everywhere we must serve in love and have regard for the edification of our neighbors. Saint Paul says elsewhere:
“All things are lawful for me, but not all things are beneficial. All things are lawful for me, but not all things edify. Let no one seek his own advantage, but the good of his neighbor.”
Nothing is clearer or more certain than this rule: we should exercise our liberty when doing so contributes to the edification of our neighbor. If its exercise is not beneficial to our neighbor, we must abstain from it.
Some imitate Saint Paul’s prudence in abstaining from liberty while seeking nothing less than to serve love. For the sake of their own rest and tranquility, they desire every mention of liberty to be buried.
Yet sometimes it is no less lawful and necessary for the edification of our neighbors to exercise our liberty than to restrain it for their good.
Everything I have taught concerning the avoidance of offenses must be confined to indifferent things, which are in themselves neither good nor evil. Necessary duties must not be neglected for fear of causing offense. Here too, it is true, we must have regard for love—but in such a way that God is not offended for the sake of our neighbor.
I do not approve of the intemperance of those who do nothing except through tumult and would rather tear everything apart by violence than carefully unfasten it. On the other hand, neither do I accept the reasoning of those who, while leading others by their example into countless blasphemies, pretend that they must act as they do to avoid offending their neighbors. As though they were not meanwhile building up their neighbors’ consciences in evil—especially when they remain perpetually stuck in the same mire, without any hope of emerging from it.
When the question arises of instructing their neighbor by doctrine or by the example of their lives, they say that he must be fed with milk. Yet under this pretext they maintain him in harmful and destructive errors. Saint Paul indeed says that he fed the Corinthians with milk; but if the Mass had existed at that time, would he have offered its sacrifice in order to give them milk to drink? No, for milk is not poison.
I fed you with milk, not solid food.
They therefore lie when they pretend to nourish those whom they cruelly murder under the appearance of such gentleness. And even if we granted that such concealment might be good for a time, how long will they continue feeding their children with the same milk? If they never grow strong enough to bear even the lightest solid food, it is certain that they were never nourished with wholesome milk.
Since, therefore, the consciences of believers, by the privilege of the liberty they possess in Jesus Christ, have been freed from the bonds and necessary observance of those things which the Lord willed to be indifferent to them, we conclude that they are free and exempt from the authority of all men. For it is not fitting either that Jesus Christ should be deprived of the praise due to him for so great a benefit, or that consciences should be deprived of its fruit.
Nor should we regard as a matter of slight importance something that we see cost Jesus Christ so dearly—something he purchased not with gold or silver, but with his own blood.
You were redeemed, not with corruptible things such as silver or gold, but with the precious blood of Christ.
Thus Saint Paul does not hesitate to say that Christ’s death is made vain for us if we place ourselves under subjection to men.
For in several chapters of the Epistle to the Galatians, he treats of nothing else but that Christ is buried for us—or rather, wholly extinguished—unless our consciences remain steadfast in their liberty. They would certainly fall from that liberty if they could be bound by laws and constitutions according to the pleasure of men.
But as this matter is most worthy of being known, so it needs to be explained more clearly. For today, as soon as any word is spoken about abolishing human constitutions, great uproars immediately arise, stirred up partly by seditious persons and partly by slanderers, as though all obedience to men were being rejected and overthrown.
To prevent this misunderstanding, we must observe that there is a twofold government in man. One is spiritual, by which the conscience is instructed and taught in the things of God and in all that pertains to godliness. The other is political or civil, by which a person is taught the duties of humanity and civility that must be observed among men.
These are commonly called spiritual and temporal jurisdiction—terms suitable enough, signifying that the first kind of government concerns the life of the soul, while the second serves this present life —not by providing men with food or clothing, but by establishing laws according to which they may live honorably and justly with one another.
The first has its seat within the soul; the second merely forms and regulates outward conduct. Let the reader, therefore, permit me to call the one the spiritual kingdom and the other the civil or political kingdom.
Since we have distinguished them, we must consider each separately and not confuse them with one another. For there are, as it were, two worlds within man, which may be governed by different kings and by different laws.