Chapter Two
Chapter Two Between Erasmus and Luther Heidelberg A Student in Dominican Schools In January 1517, Bucer returned to Heidelberg,! a city similar in many ways to Mainz, where he had just spent a year. Both were university towns.
Each was home to a territorial prince respected and influential within the Holy Roman Empire—on the one side, a prelate, the prince-archbishop of Mainz; on the other, a secular prince, the elector Palatine. And each city not only lay at a crossroads of trade but also was a lively intellectual and political center in its own right in the midst of early modern Germany's pulsating heart.
At this time, Heidelberg had a population of about five thousand. The elector Palatine appointed the city's mayor (Stadtschultheiss), who wielded authority over a city council responsible for those inhabitants belonging neither to the elector's administrative staff nor to the university. This segment of the population included mostly artisans, fishermen, winegrowers, and small traders. Large-scale commerce was unknown, since craftsmen produced only for the local market. In terms of wealth and social status, the fishermen ranked above the numerous, mostly poor winegrowers, whose vineyards dotted the surrounding hillsides that today are covered by forests. The elector Palatine's court set the tone for the city. One-fourth of Heidelberg's inhabitants worked for the prince elector, from numerous noblemen and officials down to simple secretaries and domestic servants.
The nobility's countless courts and palaces formed a prominent part of the city. The elector's civil servants and officials constituted a self-contained milieu with its own internal social order and Jurisdiction.
Martin Bucer Bucer had little to do with this side of Heidelberg, except for a few personal acquaintances among like-minded churchmen. We have no idea if he took notice of work on the fortification and embellishment of the nowfamous Heidelberg Castle, which began in 1504. Bucer was at home in another world: that of the university, which also had a social order of its own and its own law court. Founded in 1386, and therefore constituting the oldest university in Germany, it had about six hundred students at the time. The prince elector had aimed to attract many different constituencies to the university and therefore made it a matter of principle that the two opposing movements of scholasticism be represented in the teaching body: the prevailing school of Nominalism, also known as via moderna, and the school of Thomism, or via antiqua, in which Bucer was being trained.
Bucer's superiors in the Dominican order sent him to Heidelberg, where he enrolled in January of 1517, primarily for the purpose of obtaining a university degree." Such a degree was generally not required for teaching within a monastic order, and this was the case for the Dominicans. All that counted in the orders were internal exams and degrees that ultimately qualified one for admission to the institutions of higher learning known as studia generalia. However, an academic degree was necessary in order to assume one of the many university professorships that the mendicant orders started holding by the end of the Middle Ages. 'This led many territorial princes formally to incorporate monastic institutions of learning into the theological faculties of universities. This arrangement had advantages for both parties. Members of the mendicant orders could conveniently complete their doctoral studies in the same town in which their monastery and house of studies were located; the territorial prince could save the costs of one or several professorships, now assumed by the monastic order in question. In the case of Heidelberg, Elector Frederick
I obtained permission from Pope Sixtus IV in 1473 to incorporate the Dominican monastery, not founded until 1476, into the university. This meant that Bucer was, on the one hand, formally a university student, subject to the institution's regulations, including its law courts, but on the other also a member of the internal house of studies, or studium generale, of his order, bound to its precise stipulations. The freedom to choose courses as one pleases and follow one's interests that a student of the humanities enjoys in German universities today was completely unknown to Bucer and his contemporaries. Training in all faculties followed an inflexible curriculum.
Bucer was enrolled on January 31, 1517, and as a Dominican was exempt from matriculation fees. Being a monk conferred on him further
Between Erasmus and Luther
special rights. For example, in cases of minor misdemeanors he was not subject to the jurisdiction of the university rector but answerable only to the prior of the Dominican monastery. Most significantly, his matriculation made him officially a member of the teaching body of the university.
This illustrates the special consequences that matriculation had for a member of a monastic order, on the one hand, and the essence of university study of theology in the Middle Ages, on the other. The university was training not future pastors but future scholars.
A secular clergyman would have needed to complete elementary studies in philosophy and obtain a master of arts, and after that attend five years of theological lectures, before attaining the baccalaureus cursor degree that would allow him to continue his studies and begin giving his own lectures on selected passages of Scripture at the same time. But Bucer had these qualifications already at the time of his enrollment. It was assumed that a monk sent to the theological faculty by his superiors had already completed elementary philosophical and theological studies within his own order.
Bucer's further training at Heidelberg was characterized by the combination of study and teaching typical of medieval universities. As a cursor biblicus, he was expected to lecture on 160 chapters of the Old and New
Testaments in the space of two years—not an in-depth course but rather a survey lecture. The theological faculty specified the biblical passages he should expound, reminding him that he should not cover more than one chapter in a lecture. It is quite possible that Bucer began his teaching immediately after enrollment, which means he would have obtained the lowest theological degree of a baccalaureus biblicus by the end of 1518 or in the first months of 1519, probably upon passing an examination.
At the same time, Bucer was expected to attend lectures and take part in disputations within the studium generale of the Heidelberg Dominicans.
The Dominican monastery in which he lived and worked was on the western outskirts of town, in a neighborhood sparsely populated by peasants and winegrowers. Their simple dwellings were dwarfed by the stately compound of the Dominicans, which included a church, cloister buildings, and a large garden. The monastery grounds abutted directly upon what today is Heidelberg's pedestrian Hauptstrasse, not far from the town's Speyer Gate (today near the Bismarckplatz). The monastery and its church were razed in the early 1860s and replaced with buildings
(Friedrichsbau, Alte Anatomie) that today house the University of Heidelberg's Psychological Institute.' Life for members of the Dominican house of studies was regulated by statutes enacted in 1501. They provided that
Martin Bucer students be dispensed from choir obligations and the singing of canonical hours so that they might devote themselves exclusively to their studies.
However, taking part in the office for the mother of God, matins, and the daily Mass of the monastery remained compulsory. In addition, studium generale enrollees were required to take turns for a week at a time holding the first Mass in the chapel of the deceased Palatine countess
(Pfalzgrafin) Margaretha, thus expressing the order's gratitude to the family of the prince elector for its generous financial support.
House of study members were also expected to sing the canonical hours on important church feasts as well as on the feasts of the patron saints of the order and of the Heidelberg cloister, which were Saint Anne, Saint
Wendelin, and Saint Sebastian.
Bucer studied in this monastic and church-related setting. Students' primary academic duty was to attend the lectures of the stadium generale's director, which took place on all weekdays, except for brief breaks at Easter, during the grape harvest in the fall, and at Christmas. Michael Vehe, who had a doctorate in theology from the University of Heidelberg, led the studium generale beginning in 1515. In 1520 he additionally assumed a professorship at the university. Besides the daily lectures there were disputations every other day, during which one of the students—they took turns at this, in order of admittance to the studium generale—fulfilled the function of the respondens. The student who had joined the studium generale most recently also had special obligations of his own. We can imagine Bucer in this function, signaling the beginning of the lecture by ringing a bell three times, placing the opened book on the lectern for regens Vehe, removing it after the lecture, ringing the bell two times to call on the sententiarius to begin with his survey lecture on the Sentences of Peter Lombard, and finally indicating the beginning of a disputation also with two peals of the bell.
Bucer also had obligations teaching elementary philosophy courses within the Dominican order. We do not know which texts of Aristotle he discussed and which commentaries he used. But his 1518 book inventory* does help define with a certain degree of accuracy the intellectual world in which he felt at home during these years of theological study.
Theological Profile It is natural to assume that Bucer would have owned several books by Thomas Aquinas, the great teacher of the Dominican order. How many books by Aquinas Bucer actually possessed, however, is astonishing: Bucer owned all of Aquinas's most important works, with the exception of his bib-
Between Erasmus and Luther
lical commentaries. Furthermore, Bucer's other theological books stood squarely in the 'homistic tradition and included works such as Cajetan's treatise on 'Thomas's Summa theologica, Peter Paludanus's commentary on the fourth book of the Sentences, Paulus Barbus's (Soncinas's) Metaphysics, and Peter Crockaert's (Petrus Bruxellensis's) commentaries on Aristotle,
Petrus Hispanus, and 'Thomas Aquinas. Bucer's studies at the Heidelberg studium generale were thus deeply rooted in the Thomistic school.
At the same time, Bucer was becoming increasingly influenced by the writings of Erasmus. His fascination with the great Dutch humanist may have already begun in Mainz in 1516. In Heidelberg, it clearly grew.
Bucer's book list shows that he owned Erasmus's most important writings, such as the Praise of Folly (Encomium Moriae), which he might have acquired at an earlier time; Erasmus's edition of the Greek New Testament with his
Annotations; the Dutch humanist's paraphrase of the letter to the Romans; his Handbook of a Christian Soldier (Enchiridion militis christiani); his Complaint of Peace (Querela pacis); the Education of a Christian Prince (Institutio principis christiant); an edition of his letters; as well as his Defense against Jacques Lefevre @Etaples (Apologia ad Facobum Fabrum Stapulensem). In a parallel development, Bucer started buying books issuing from the printing press of Erasmus's publisher, Johannes Froben in Basel, in a clear shift of preference away from the Strasbourg printer Matthias Schiirer. Ina letter to his mentor Beatus Rhenanus in March 1520, Bucer wrote tonguein-cheek that he was scraping money together by "guile and tricks" to buy all of Erasmus's works.> What moved and excited Bucer so much about Erasmus's writings?® In part, it was certainly his brilliant style as well as the wealth of literary forms and aesthetically sophisticated figures of speech he used. More important for Bucer, Erasmus gave expression to the synthesis of Christianity and learning so typical of the new form of humanism. He criticized the church's obsession with externals and particularly a smug, complacent theology that had grown hollow and wasted time with sterile, hairsplitting sophistry, detrimental to both learning and piety. Erasmus also mocked ill-educated monks and their barbaric Latin. The basis of this criticism was, however, a positive vision of renewal that he summed up with the concept of "Christian philosophy" (philosophia christiana), a term that Bucer began using as well. It described a Christian way of life open to laypeople as well as clergymen, revolving around things quite simple and plain: following Christ in a life of piety, humility, peace, and love for one's fellow man. This faith turned its back on external church rituals and founded itself on the spirit of the Bible, thus giving the Christian more
Martin Bucer freedom and individual responsibility. It was a form of Christianity compatible with the vigorous learning and culture of this period and that did justice to the growing self-assertiveness of townspeople. 'These ideas put forth by Erasmus were indeed revolutionary, but the Dutch humanist was thinking of a gentle revolution that would succeed not through force but by intensified education as well as through ideas and books.
Much later in life, Bucer summed up what he had learned from Erasmus. In his eyes, the great humanist had swept away meaningless religious ceremonies with his linguistic eloquence and cogent reasoning, replacing them with simple faith in Christ. Erasmus had made clear that all that counts is obeying God's commandments, the content and aim of which is our neighbor's well-being. Finally, Erasmus restored the Bible and the church fathers to their deserved position in the center of Christianity.'
Bucer's list reflects Erasmus's own intentions quite accurately. There can be no doubt that the young Dominican experienced Erasmus's thought as a sweeping liberation, and it is understandable that he became his avid follower and disciple.
But how could Bucer endorse these new convictions and still remain a Dominican monk, living in a monastery and studying scholastic theology?
We will later see how Bucer settled this issue. For the time being, he found solace in the Letter to Paul Volz (Epistola ad Paulum Volzium) with which Erasmus prefaced the new edition of his Enchiridion. In it Erasmus acclaims the abbot of Hugshofen as a true monk amd a true Christian. According to Erasmus, one could indeed live a life of scholarship and piety in a monastery, as long as one kept one's eyes set on things ultimate and did not cling to externals. It is also important to point out that Bucer lived in a monastery whose superiors were influenced by the spirit of Erasmus, or at least did not actively oppose it. In September 1518, Bucer wrote to Beatus
Rhenanus that his prior, Bernhard Senger, who had lived in Basel, gave him his wholehearted support, and that the regens of the convent, D. Michael
Vehe, at least had nothing against his lecturing the monks on Erasmus's Praise of Folly and Complaint of Peace.® Senger was also allowing him to perfect his knowledge of Greek under Johannes Brenz, to whom he went every other day in order to read Plato's Symposium in a small group. Another superior who was apparently influenced by the spirit of humanism was prior provincial Eberhard of Cleves.' Bucer could therefore cheerfully declare to Rhenanus that he did not care one bit what those fellow Dominicans completely opposed to humanism were thinking of him!
When Martin Luther came to Heidelberg in April 1518 to hold his famous disputation—the occasion on which he met Bucer—he stepped
Between Erasmus and Luther 2" into the world of Erasmian humanism described above.!° The vicar general of the Observant Augustinian Hermits, Johannes von Staupitz, had invited Luther to present his theology for discussion during a meeting of the general chapter of the order. The disputation took place on April 26 in the building of the arts faculty (Schola artistarum, to the east of the current
Augustinergasse), in the immediate vicinity of the Augustinian monastery (today the location of the Universitatsplatz, between the "Old" and the "New" University). Representatives of the arts and theology faculties were present, as well as countless younger faculty and students who would later play a crucial role in spreading and establishing the Reformation in southern Germany, such as Martin Frecht, Theobald Billican, Johannes Brenz, possibly Erhard Schnepf as well—and of course Martin Bucer.
In a long letter to Beatus Rhenanus, Bucer excitedly recounted what he had seen and heard during the disputation, and what he had learned in a further personal conversation with Luther on April 27—"you know, the one who's been battering away at the indulgences, a problem we've dealt with far too little." Mixing report with interpretation, Bucer commented in detail on the first thirteen theses of the Wittenberg theologian, briefly mentioned the following three, and closed with a succinct discussion of the twenty-fifth thesis. Whether or not Bucer's letter accurately documents the disputation, which would imply that Luther's twelve philosophical theses against Aristotelianism had not been discussed, remains to be decided.
In twenty-eight skillfully arranged theological theses, Luther asserted man's incapacity to do good, denied free will, set forth a new understanding of theology based on the cross, and proclaimed salvation by faith in Christ alone. The pillars of his argumentation were theses 1 and 25:
"God's law, that most salutary, life-giving teaching, is incapable of advancing man towards justice; on the contrary it hinders him"; "Not he is just who does many works, but rather he who without works believes much in Christ." He thus provided the basics of Reformation theology in outline: people are not justified in God's eyes through their works, but rather God justifies them by faith alone, that is, by trust put solely in Christ.
When reporting on Luther's "paradoxes," as he called them, Bucer took special interest in theses 1 and 25. He placed the greatest emphasis, however, on the first thesis. As far as the twenty-fifth thesis was concerned,
Bucer stressed that human works were by no means being rejected, only trust in human works, since faith alone justifies. Although Luther had also affirmed this,'! his primary emphasis lay on faith itself, from which the Christian's good works would follow. Initial differences were therefore
Martin Bucer beginning to emerge. Whereas Luther's theology was overwhelmingly based on faith in Christ, a faith that subsumed everything else, Bucer placed paramount importance on the ethical conduct that resulted from Christian faith. In this emphasis on the shape of Christian existence in the world lies the unmistakable legacy of Alsatian and Erasmian humanism.
Theological differences in the interpretation of law, that is, of the first thesis, are even sharper. Both Luther and Bucer agreed that God's law epitomized his holy and unconditionally binding will. Humans are incapable of meeting God's expectations. God's law therefore reveals our status in God's presence, said Luther, that is, our status as sinners. God's law makes our failure all the more obvious, crushes us and humiliates us before God, turning us into human beings completely dependent on God. If we deny this and succumb to the illusion of pleasing God with our works, we are actually turning away from God, since we are not letting go of ourselves but are rather trusting in our own capabilities and merits when relating to God. God's law is therefore a permanent accuser, driving humans away from themselves, leading them to trust only in God, who has revealed his love and forgiveness in Jesus Christ.
Bucer absorbed everything Luther said on human sinfulness, on human failure to fulfill God's law, and on the impossibility of becoming justified through works. He agreed entirely with Luther that Christians must place their trust solely in Christ, not in their own deeds and accomplishments.
But Bucer was driving at a much broader understanding of law. God certainly accuses us and convicts us of our sins, but we have to go beyond this understanding of God's law, which remains external and foreign to us human beings. Christians, however, relate to God's law in a new way: they consent to it in their hearts and are moved by the Holy Spirit to live and behave according to it. Borrowing from Aristotle, Bucer described the way the law works in Christians as Entelechia, as an active and effective energy.'? This was a crucial point for Bucer, for at this point in his letter to Rhenanus a cascade of concepts gushes out of his pen: God's law is /ex spiritus, for the Holy Spirit rules us according to it; it is a Jew gratiae, the law by which God's grace is active. Bucer expounded as well on the fruits of grace (gratia) and of faith (fides), on the law that pushes us toward life
(/ex vitae) and that makes all things new (nova /ex).
Bucer's theological reasoning was unmistakably influenced by Erasmus, but in it we also find elements of Thomas Aquinas. He was thus no tabula rasa upon encountering Luther but interpreted the Wittenberg theologian according to his own background and theological agenda. Certainly, one reason Bucer was fascinated by Luther was quite simply the Witten-
Between Erasmus and Luther
berg Reformer's headstrong personality. But, as Bucer expressly emphasized, he was also attracted by the far-reaching agreement he perceived between Luther's and Erasmus's ideas.'? By this he probably meant their joint recourse to the Bible and the church fathers, their christocentrism, their emphasis on faith and a life lived according to faith. Bucer did see the differences too. Luther impressed him as being more open and outspoken than Erasmus and certainly appeared to be theologically more radical, in fact, revolutionary. Opening the doors to Luther's ideas brought into question—indeed, jeopardized—much more than just church ceremonies. Bucer understood this clearly and realized the far-reaching implications his encounter with Luther would have for himself; he therefore implored Rhenanus not to let his disputation report fall into the wrong hands. Bucer was at a crossroads, and sensing this, on April 30, 1518, he formally drew up a will in the form of an inventory of all his books.
By the end of 1518 or beginning of 1519, Bucer obtained the degree of a baccalaureus biblicus. Vhe statutes of the theological faculty freed him from teaching duties for one year so that he could prepare his two-year lecture course on the Sentences of Peter Lombard by assiduously studying various theological commentaries and swmmae. Bucer's theological views matured further during this time. He expressed them publicly for the first time in the summer of 1519, during a disputation of the theological faculty. It was customary to hold one disputation a week during the summer academic break between July 7 and September 8. A sententiarius or a baccalaureus usually drafted the theses to be disputed. One of these disputations, which Bucer led and in which Theobald Billican acted as respondent, almost ended in turmoil.!* The bone of contention was Bucer's thesis that our fellow humans provide structure and orientation for our love of God (charitas ordinata a proximo). At first sight mere scholastic hairsplitting, this was actually an explosive issue, because it dealt a blow to a principle of scholasticism and constituted a frontal attack against the paradigmatic teacher of the Preachers' Order, Thomas Aquinas.
Bucer's theses have not survived, but we can retrace them roughly. At the start of the disputation Bucer was asked whether he was referring to Christians' ethical obligations toward their fellow humans. 'This would have agreed fully with ancient Christian tradition and was a point Erasmus had underscored as well in his Enchiridion: Christians do not just live for themselves but are to give themselves to God and neighbor.'? But Bucer aimed at more. He wanted to define the relationship between love of God and love of one's fellow humans more precisely, reaching the bold conclusion that even if loving God was not the same as loving one's neighbor, the
Martin Bucer two were practically coterminous. Bucer began with the presupposition that God commanded us to love our neighbors and that the person of whom Christ has taken possession is a new creation. Christians are so attached to God through Christ that they only see their neighbors and no longer themselves. They are now capable of truly loving their fellow human beings and are freed from having to pursue their own interests.
'These reflections reveal that Bucer was indebted to Luther, but also that he had reached his own interpretation of Luther's Heidelberg theses.
His differing understanding of God's law is once again evident. But it is also clear that he rejected all human efforts to influence God. When
Bucer's fellow disputants argued in reply that we have to be concerned about our own salvation and—since all human abilities grow out of God's grace—love ourselves first, he dismissed this as the fundamental error of works righteousness and therefore a sin. Although Bucer was somewhat eclectic and vague in his procedure, at least the hint of a conflict with Thomas Aquinas was brewing. Thomas's theology centered on God's love for his creation and, in particular, for man. The greatest Christian virtue, love, could only be man's response to God's preceding, all-embracing love.
Bucer agreed fully. In fact, he began with this same premise. But where Thomas connects love of God with love of self, Bucer diverged. Thomas, of course, did not mean selfishness or egocentrism. He wanted Christians to understand and accept themselves, along with their entire surrounding reality, as being loved by God. This implied that in loving themselves and this reality they were, in a way, loving God. But for Bucer this left human sinfulness out of account. According to Bucer, human beings, including
Christians, were simply incapable of not perverting this kind of love into self-love. For this reason, Bucer insisted that God calls Christians away from themselves toward unconditional commitment to the other, to their fellow human beings.
Bucer was enormously pleased when he found these ideas confirmed in Luther's Galatians commentary, which he read for the first time at the beginning of 1520. In this commentary, Luther had attempted to develop his Reformation theology using humanistic language and reasoning. Correspondingly, he emphasized Christian freedom and loving one's fellow human beings. According to the Wittenberg theologian, the person who trusts in Christ is freed from the selfish need to assert his own merits when relating to God. Forgetting himself, he can concentrate fully on his fellow human beings and their needs. This love is concrete and down-to-earth, because human beings are truly accepted by God through faith in Christ and are therefore completely freed from any need to please God through
Between Erasmus and Luther
actions. If we try to complement this path to salvation chosen by God by making additional demands on human beings, we entirely miss the mark.
But Bucer did place an idiosyncratic emphasis of his own by expressly discussing love of one's neighbor as an expression of Christian existence.
Luther was much more cautious. He preferred to develop this idea from a christological perspective: Christ—and not man—reveals the gifts God has given us. If Luther emphasized the unsurpassed importance of the sinner's justification by God, Bucer stressed the intimate connection between justification and the gift of an ethically renewed better life all the more. It is for this reason that he perceived and developed theology as ethics. 'This remained a guiding principle of his thought and action from this time on.
Leaving the Order At the same time that Bucer wrestled with these issues, storm clouds were gathering on the horizon of world and church politics. Even if little more than rumors reached Bucer's ears, it was unmistakably clear that the Reformation's opponents were assembling their forces. The legal proceedings against Luther on account of supposed heresy were being resumed in Rome, and the Reuchlin dispute was taking on a new dimension. [his latter conflict affected Bucer directly, for the Cologne Domin1cans under the leadership of the prior and grand inquisitor Jacob of Hoogstraten were at odds not just with Reuchlin but with the entire company of humanistic scholars.!° They had made Reuchlin's cause their own, not necessarily out of sympathy for his theological and philosophical views but because they felt scholarship and learning themselves were at stake.
At this point, the knight and humanist Ulrich von Hutten managed to convince the powerful imperial knight Franz von Sickingen to begin a formal feud with the Dominican order on July 26, 1519, threatening to destroy Dominican monasteries if Hoogstraten did not cease the proceedings and assume Reuchlin's legal expenses in the amount of 111 Rhenish guldens. Sickingen, who had far-reaching political aims, did not care that much about Reuchlin but was certainly keen on winning the support of the humanists. After all, they did dominate public opinion at this time, before the much broader and more tumultuous wave of approval for Luther would sweep through Germany. Negotiations took place between Sickingen and the Dominicans, in which the prior provincial as well as the director of the Heidelberg house of studies played important roles. Finally, the decision was made in the provincial chapter meeting in Frankfurt at the beginning of May 1520 to ask the pope to revoke the condemnation
Martin Bucer of Reuchlin and to impose silence on both parties of the conflict. In addition, the chapter deposed Hoogstraten as inquisitor and prior.
In the meantime, however, Rome had become convinced, not least on the basis of what the humanists were loudly proclaiming, that Luther and Reuchlin were birds of a feather and that both of them deserved to be liquidated. Consequently, on June 15, 1520, the papal court drew up the bull threatening Luther and his followers with excommunication, and on June
23 it annulled the Frankfurt agreement. It took time, however, for news of this to reach Germany, a country carried away by an unprecedented wave of enthusiasm for Luther. His pamphlets, fresh off the presses, were selling like hotcakes, particularly his Address to the Christian Nobility of the German Nation Concerning the Reform of the Christian Estate (An den christlichen Adel deutscher Nation von des christlichen Standes Besserung). Vhis booklet went through no fewer than ten reeditions or reprints in the course of 1520 alone. All of Germany seemed to be behind Luther in the summer and early fall of 1520. People hardly took notice of another important item of news: Charles I of Spain had been elevated to the throne of the Holy Roman Empire on October 23 in Aachen, becoming Charles
V. As he headed from the Netherlands to the city of Worms, where his first imperial diet would take place in January 1521, he left pyres of burning books—Luther's books—in his wake: first in Louvain, then in Liége, afterward in Cologne, and finally, on November 29, 1520, in Mainz. On March 10, 1521, the imperial mandate against Luther's writings was proclaimed in Worms. Luther himself had already burned Pope Leo X's excommunication bull, as well as the collection of papal legal decisions known as the Decretals, at the Elster gate in Wittenberg in December. A storm was definitely in the making.
Like everybody else, the Heidelberg Dominicans were confused and worried by these events. Bucer was clearly not alone with his views within the monastery. But whereas Bucer's superiors were Erasmian, they definitely were not Martinian, as he had already written to Beatus Rhenanus on March 10, 1519.'" The point of divergence was the attitude toward the papacy. But in the same way that Erasmus refused to join Luther's enemies openly, the Heidelberg Dominicans were also not prepared to take on Luther in a clear and decisive way. Tired of waiting, the papal legate expressly commanded the prior provincial of the Dominicans in November 1520 to preach against Luther and against the dissemination of his works.!* The Heidelberg Dominicans felt even less comfortable with the action their order was taking against Reuchlin. How tolerant, openminded, and, to a certain extent, uncertain they actually were can be seen
Between Erasmus and Luther
in their willingness to promote Bucer's advancement within the order. At the meeting of the Dominican provincial chapter in Frankfurt in May
1520, Bucer's superiors recommended him for the office of "Master of Students" (#agister studentium), even though he had come under suspicion as a committed Erasmian and Martinian ever since the summer break disputation.!? With this office, Bucer's superiors were not only giving him a leading position in the cloister hierarchy, subordinate only to the director of studies and the prior, but were also paving the path for him to obtain the highest academic degree, that of doctor of theology. The rules of the order required one to have been magister studentium—that is, a director of studies under the vegens—in order to be considered for the theological doctorate. Furthermore, when Bucer decided in the summer of 1520 to lecture not on Peter Lombard's Sentences, as the syllabus required, but on the Psalms, his students protested vociferously, but not one word of reprimand by his superiors is reported."°
Nevertheless, Bucer realized it would be a losing battle to stand up within the Order of Preachers for everything that had become important to him. We find remarks along these lines in his letters from March 1519 onward. But it seems Bucer waited until September 1520 before deciding definitively to leave the monastery.7!
Feeling extremely isolated, Bucer had already begun in 1519 assiduously to seek contact with influential humanists, first admirers of Erasmus but then also sympathizers of Luther. He methodically set up a far-flung network of contacts: using Beatus Rhenanus as a mediator, he cultivated the acquaintance of Wolfgang Capito, cathedral preacher and university professor in Basel; he corresponded with Luther in Wittenberg but also with Luther's friend George Spalatin, a confidant of Frederick, the prince elector of Saxony; writing to Sélestat, he cultivated contacts with Jacob
Wimpfeling and the diplomat Jacob Spiegel; he had good relations with a humanistic circle in Speyer, particularly with the cathedral vicar Maternus Hatten, who became a close friend. Finally, he had good relationships with Ulrich von Hutten and consequently with Franz von Sickingen, who was close to Hutten.
These contacts were more than just important to Bucer. 'They became vital when he became endangered personally. On November 11, 1520— his twenty-ninth birthday—Bucer wrote a troubled letter to Capito, cathedral preacher in Basel since the spring of 1520 and, more important, an influential friend of Archbishop Albrecht of Mainz. In this letter, he related having just heard that Hoogstraten had gotten his hands on letters in which Bucer made no bones about his opinion of Hoogstraten.
Martin Bucer Hoogstraten was now threatening to make an example of Bucer as a follower of Luther the minute Hoogstraten was reinstated as inquisitor."? It was crucial for Bucer to be freed of his monastic vows as soon as possible, so that he would no longer be subject to the jurisdiction of the Dominican order. Capito first of all, but also Maternus Hatten and Jacob Spiegel, had the necessary connections in high places to see his petition through in Rome. Bucer assailed them with a flurry of requests through letters and personal visits. Hutten, as well, did his part in trying to convince Capito to help out the renegade monk. Bucer's prospects as a refugee were bleak.
His last resort would have to be Sickingen's castles.
Probably doing his best to dissipate misgivings about his reputation, Bucer visited Papal Nuncio Girolamo Aleander several times in December 1520 and in January 1521. Aleander counseled him benignly to invest his gifts in a cause more sublime than Luther.'? In February, Maternus
Hatten finally succeeded in winning over an influential member of the papal court who, on his way back to Rome, would seek the annulment of Bucer's monastic vows on the grounds that he had been forced into the order as a minor. In all probability, Bucer did not flee the Heidelberg monastery until this point, seeking shelter in Hatten's home in nearby
Speyer, where he had already stayed secretly several times in the past. At the end of March, news arrived that the papal bull releasing him from his vows had been issued. A race against time ensued, for Bucer's opponents in the Dominican order had also gotten word of his plan. Bucer did his utmost to see to it that the suffragan bishop of Speyer, Anton Engelbrecht, who was well disposed toward him, would be charged with absolving him of his vows. At the same time, Aleander warned the papal court emphatically against releasing the dangerous man from his commitment to the order. But his warning arrived too late. On April 15, 1521, the bishop of Speyer commissioned Engelbrecht to carry out the act of annulment. On April 29, 1521, Suffragan Engelbrecht solemnly released Bucer from his monastic vows in the town of Bruchsal, reassigning him to the status of a secular cleric.** He did this after Bucer had sworn that his petition was truthful and confirmed it with a witness unknown to us. No representatives of Bucer's home monastery in Sélestat showed up, in spite of being summoned. 'The Dominican house of studies in Heidelberg was not mentioned with a single word in the entire procedure. But this made little difference for Bucer: he was now a free man.
It is the Bucer of these troubled Heidelberg years who begins to take on precise contours and appears for the first time as an individual with distinctive features. The first descriptions of his physical appearance come
Between Erasmus and Luther ia from this period. One friend characterized him as being "gaunt," having
"black hair and a dark complexion," as well as an "impassioned" personality.?? Later observers never forget to mention the stately nose that dominated his face. In terms of his intellectual development, Bucer laid the foundations for his theology during these years. He had to fight his way through tough conflicts in order to arrive at and hold his convictions; this made him both intelligent and versatile. He was acquainted with the reality of power since earliest childhood and gifted at winning over the hearts of the powerful. He was not an opportunist. When he set his eyes on a goal, he tackled it energetically and confidently and at times, it seems, even ruthlessly, but never without carefully thinking through his aims. He thrived on personal relationships and contact with like-minded people but also on ever-new challenges—which is why we encounter him on the move again and again, always traveling somewhere. The second half of Martin Bucer's life was about to begin.
In Sickingen's Entourage Ebernburg In the final weeks before being freed of his monastic vows, Bucer spent most of his time in the castle of Ebernburg. He felt safe in this stronghold of Franz von Sickingen, high above the Nahe River and only a few miles from the town of Kreuznach, where Sickingen served as the elector Palatine's official, or Amtmann. Bucer was not the only one to seek refuge here—a whole band of prominent fugitives found asylum in the Ebernburg, among them Johannes Oecolampadius, Caspar Aquila, Johannes Schwebel, and not least Ulrich von Hutten himself, who coined the fitting phrase
"shelter of justice" (Herberge der Gerechtigkeit) for Sickingen's fortress. 'he Ebernburg's location was strategic, Mainz being only twenty-five miles to the northeast, and the other important imperial free cities on the Rhine,
Worms and Speyer, just a day's ride away for an experienced horseman.
Franz von Sickingen,"° with whom Bucer would be closely associated for about the next two years, remains an intriguing figure. Mutually incompatible reactionary and modern elements can be found together in his thought. And what Sickingen's friends, particularly Ulrich von Hutten, tried to make of him is again something different. Hutten had met
Sickingen in 1519 and ever since extolled him as the quintessential German knight, imbued with a deep and authentic piety and truly committed to his nation. Many, not just Bucer, admired Sickingen for having championed Reuchlin's cause. Finally, Luther's Address to the Christian Nobility
Martin Bucer (An den christlichen Adel) seemed to assign Sickingen and the entire estate of imperial knights a social and religious role of crucial importance. But the truth was a lot more complicated—and considerably less flattering. It was unmistakably clear that imperial knights had been caught in a process of steady social and political decline for a long time. 'Their traditional governmental, military, and economic functions had slowly been taken over by the up-and-coming territorial princes, as well as by the imperial cities.
The Reformation exacerbated the situation, causing new divisions in a eroup already made heterogeneous by differences in social and economic conditions according to region. Initially, though, the knights had reason to welcome the vision of a national and moral renewal of the empire that would reinstate them in their earlier position of importance. Hutten, in particular, added to this vision the ingredients of Sickingen's personal leadership and elements of Luther's theology, peppering the mix with sentiments of hatred toward clergymen, especially toward the papal court in Rome—sentiments that were not hard to find in Germany at the time.
Hutten was hoping by these methods to win over the cities, which were still recalcitrant or even hostile toward the imperial knights. He conjured up a compelling vision: Franz von Sickingen in league with the emperor, a church deprived of its power and wealth, a pope bereft of his influence in Germany, and a nation united politically and morally under the banners of imperial knights, once again powerful and thriving.
Bucer was also attracted to these soaring dreams, although he accentuated different elements. He found especially convincing the idea of allying Sickingen with the emperor, as well as the goal of dismantling the power of the papal court in order to reform the church, enable the unfettered preaching of the gospel, and spread true Christian learning and piety. Sickingen's personal religious devotion and his interest in Luther's writing were proof enough for Bucer that this knight's commitment should be taken seriously. It is obvious, however, that he did not really grasp the more contradictory aspects of Sickingen's personality, who claimed a calling to serve God, the Holy Roman Empire, and justice, on the one hand, but on the other conducted feuds just like any other robber baron, ambitiously and ruthlessly grasping for power. Like most of Sickingen's friends and enemies, Bucer clearly overestimated him.
Bucer lived in Ebernburg castle for two months, from March until the end of April 1521, working closely with Hutten, whom he came to know in Strasbourg in November of the previous year.?' Bucer functioned as a private secretary of sorts for Hutten, writing letters for him, organizing his book acquisitions and sales, and translating into German portions of
Between Erasmus and Luther ay his Invectiva, which Hutten would review critically. We do not know much more about Bucer's work for Hutten. There is no evidence for the improbable claim that Bucer also rendered voluminous writings by Hutten into German and completed them, and perhaps even began this task while still a monk in Heidelberg. Neither do we have the slightest reason to believe that Bucer is the author of two anonymous pamphlets that also appeared during these months. Both New-Karsthans and A Beautiful Dialogue (Ain schéner Dialogus)'® may express Hutten's and Sickingen's religious and social ideals eloquently, but they differ from one another so enormously in language, argumentation, and even intellectual sophistication that they cannot possibly have been written by the same person. Some themes in Neu-Karsthans, which is definitely the more elaborate and skillfully written of the two works, are reminiscent of Bucer's theology, such as its emphasis that our actions should be guided by the wish to be useful to our fellow human beings and on love of one's neighbor and the Holy
Spirit. But the differences are more significant. This pamphlet does not say a word about sin and forgiveness, about reconciliation, or about new life in Christ. And we do not have any further evidence that Bucer made himself an advocate of the common struggle of peasants and knights against the clergy under the leadership of Sickingen. All of these reasons belie Bucer's authorship of both works.
What Bucer truly felt is revealed in a long conversation he had with Glapion, the confessor of Emperor Charles V, in the first days of April
1521.' Glapion and the diplomat Paul von Armstorff came to the Ebernburg on friendly terms, hoping to neutralize Sickingen and particularly
Hutten as political foes through this accommodating approach. Glapion specifically suggested that Luther not attend the imperial diet in Worms but come instead to Sickingen's castle, where one could calmly and safely discuss the best ways and means of reforming the church. It remains unclear whether the imperial confessor was merely interested in keeping
Luther away from the diet or sincerely concerned about carrying out a moderate reform of the church, which for him would have meant a reform confined to Germany and leaving the doctrinal foundations of the church untouched. Glapion certainly interpreted Charles V's readiness to go along with such a reform too optimistically when he claimed that the imperial mandate against Luther's writings was drawn up only to deceive the pope's adherents. But Bucer was also conscious of not having done justice to Luther by depicting him, in the course of this conversation of several hours' duration, as a theologian planted squarely in the center of the church's traditional doctrine and interested solely in a national program
Martin Bucer of reform. In his own way, Bucer was attempting what humanistic councillors would later try out in Worms, after Luther's refusal to recant: give in partially in order to save the project as a whole and not waste this unique opportunity to carry out a comprehensive reform of the church in Germany.*? This vision remained one of Bucer's most important convictions.
Filled with these hopes, he rode toward Luther on horseback, aiming to intercept him and convince him to come to Ebernburg castle. They met at Oppenheim, only a few miles southeast of Mainz, probably on April 15,
1521. Luther flatly rejected Bucer's proposal. He certainly was not about to jeopardize his safe-conduct, which was still valid for another three days.
But most important, he would never agree to a compromise when God's revealed truth was at stake—not then, and not at any later time.
A Court Chaplain for Count Frederick There are reasons to believe that Bucer witnessed Luther's appearance at the imperial diet in Worms. But we lose track of Bucer after that, knowing with certainty only that by early May 1521 he was back in Worms again, this time filling the office of court chaplain for Count Palatine
Frederick, the younger brother of Elector Ludwig V.*! It is not entirely clear how this connection came about. In any case, it had already been arranged during Bucer's time in Heidelberg and before he had achieved his dismissal from the Dominican order.*? Apparently, Bucer was cautiously distancing himself from the path Hutten had taken and attempting, like Wolfgang Capito at the court of Archbishop Albrecht of Mainz, to further the cause of true Christianity by persuading the mighty to take gradual steps. Hutten was furious and accused Bucer of having betrayed his calling and the grace given him by Christ by accepting such a post.
Bucer's good rapport with Sickingen, however, was apparently not hurt by this decision.
Whatever Bucer's hopes and expectations might have been, it did not take long for him to become sobered and disappointed. Count Ludwig was well enough disposed toward Bucer, but the gospel was certainly not one of his priorities. Neither did Bucer find people in Ludwig's court eager to give him a sympathetic hearing, so he soon felt isolated, cut off from all like-minded contacts, and distanced from significant events. The count
Palatine had his official residence in Neumarkt in the Upper Palatinate (Oberpfalz), a town Bucer described as "minutely small and incredibly barbarous."'* His situation improved at least in this respect when Ludwig moved to Nuremberg on November 14, 1521, taking his entourage with
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him. Emperor Charles V had asked the count Palatine to preside over the governing council (Reichsregiment) of the Holy Roman Empire, which conducted the emperor's affairs during his absence.
Bucer was now living in a large city. Nuremberg had a population of approximately thirty thousand inhabitants. It was politically the most powerful city of the empire and a center not only of craft and trade but also of culture and science. During that winter, the articulate and powerful patricians ruling Nuremberg took the first steps to further the Reformation in their city and, at the same time, keep it under their tight control.
We have every reason to assume Bucer enjoyed his stay in Nuremberg.
Here he met people who shared his concerns, such as the famous humanist Willibald Pirckheimer; the provost of St. Lawrence, Hector Poemer; and the future Reformer of Nuremberg, Andreas Osiander. His hopes of obtaining a post as hospital preacher, however, were dashed by the city council on December 11. Bucer probably left Nuremberg in mid-March
1522. His destination is unknown. The months following are veiled in darkness.*> There is evidence that Bucer was in the Duchy of Brabant, probably sometime in March and April, with Count Ludwig's knowledge, which could mean he was on a diplomatic mission. But Bucer also took the opportunity to preach there and had to flee because of it. In May he appears to have been working for Franz von Sickingen again, who sent him on an itinerant mission "for the sake of the Gospel." The precise content of this mission and the places to which Bucer rode are unknown. Bucer's mandate might have been part of Sickingen's broader efforts to unite the imperial knights, but this is only a guess. Bucer was in Strasbourg for several days at the beginning of July 1522, visiting his father, who had already imagined him to be dead. He could stay only briefly, though, since Sickingen had a new mission for him, which Bucer assumed to be in Saxony. We do not know if Bucer actually undertook this trip, nor do we know how long he was gone. It is not until November that we hear of him again, this time as a chaplain in Wissembourg. Sickingen's war entered a new phase after he lost a crucial battle near 'Trier, was placed under the ban of the imperial governing council, and renounced his feudal loyalty to the elector Palatine on November 10. At this point, he released Bucer from his duties.
Landstuhl Hutten wrote to Bucer in September 1521, informing him that he could return to Sickingen's entourage anytime he desired. Sickingen was offering him a place to live, a dwelling for his parents, and a position as a pastor in
40) Martin Bucer the town of Landstuhl, and was also willing to pay his studies for one year in Wittenberg or at another university. In May 1522, Bucer took up
Sickingen on this offer. He moved to Landstuhl, a small settlement at the foot of Sickingen's castle, some eighteen miles southwest of Kaiserslautern. He became the pastor of the town parish, over which Sickingen held the rights of patronage. Yet Bucer probably had little time to really concern himself with church issues in Landstuhl during the six months he lived here. He married Elisabeth Silbereisen, a former nun, during this time (probably in July or August). As Bucer later wrote,*° she had been placed in a convent by her relatives when she was still a young girl. It is unknown where and when Bucer met her.
Bucer's statements on the Reformation movement sound tougher and more uncompromising in the summer of 1522 than in the previous year.
Now, at the zenith of Sickingen's preparations, Bucer admiringly perceived "his knights" as blazing with zeal for the gospel. While claiming to reject all violence, Bucer expressed the fear that Christ would no longer tolerate the violence that the antichrist's servants committed against the common people by suppressing the preaching of the gospel. Bucer therefore saw a major upheaval as imminent. Christians could not stand on the sidelines under such circumstances and speak about caution and peace of mind. Whoever behaved in this way was letting the pope—and thus the antichrist—have his way. Bucer was evidently including Erasmus in his criticism, in a scarcely concealed fashion. Christians were called to confess Christ openly and to preach the gospel, even if it meant incurring the hatred of men and the accusation of inciting revolt. It was with these convictions that Bucer came to Wissembourg in November 1522.
Wissembourg The Town Wissembourg is tucked away in the northeastern corner of Alsace, some forty miles from Strasbourg and just south of the modern-day border between France and Germany.*? The Lauter River skirts the southern edge of town and constitutes thereafter, on its way eastward toward the Rhine, the boundary between both countries. In the early sixteenth century the town formed—from a political, cultural, and economic standpoint—an integral part of the southern German region of the Holy
Roman Empire. It was a free imperial city and a member of the Alsatian Decapolis. Its population of more than four thousand consisted mostly of merchants and artisans who lived off winegrowing as well as the market
Between Erasmus and Luther 4] with which Wissembourg supplied its surrounding region. The town also produced and exported textiles. The municipal constitution resembled that of Sélestat, both being replicas of Strasbourg's civic order on a smaller scale. There were seven craft guilds, whose masters, together with fourteen "associates" (Hausgenossen) mostly representing the patriciate, constituted the town council. Eight burgomasters headed the council. They took turns governing affairs, two at a time for a period of three months.
Unlike Sélestat, Wissembourg citizens had not managed to stand their ground in the conflict with the Benedictine monastery in their midst. The abbey in whose shadow and under whose protection the town had developed was the wealthiest and the most powerful of all of Alsace throughout the Middle Ages. In the fifteenth century the city struggled fiercely and tenaciously to gain control over it. Io make matters more complicated, the elector Palatine at the same time extended his territory to the very city gates, threatening Wissembourg's independence. An intricate situation resulted: town and abbey remained sworn enemies, but they faced a common foe in the electoral Palatinate. This external adversary did not weld the Wissembourg parties together but made each one suspect the other of secretly entering a deal with the elector.
In terms of its church landscape, Wissembourg was a typical medieval city. Io the north of the massive abbey church stood the parish church of St. Johannes. The church of St. Michael, located in the eastern outskirts, also met the pastoral needs of the neighboring towns of Weiler and Schweigen. Both churches were incorporated into the abbey, which had exclusive say in filling the pastor posts. The abbey also controlled the collegiate church of St. Stephan, in which eleven canons regular lived. The 'Teutonic Order of Knights, Dominican nuns and monks, Franciscans, and Augustinians, each with their own monastery, and a house of Beguines completed the ecclesiastical scene.
Heinrich Motherer, who had good connections to prominent Wissembourg families, had been the pastor at St. Johannes Church since 1511.
With their help, he managed by legal proceedings in 1517 to wrest control over the parish from the abbot and hand it over to the town council.*®
Knowing that he could count on support by the council—or at least by a significant part of it—Motherer enthusiastically absorbed Luther's teachings and proclaimed them openly from his pulpit. This same group of influential, reform-minded Wissembourg citizens also established contacts with Franz von Sickingen.*'? By pursuing these policies, which were extremely popular among the common folk of Wissembourg, the council was hoping to defeat, or at least decisively weaken, two opponents simultaneously:
Martin Bucer the local abbot and the elector Palatine. When Bucer arrived in Wissembourg, he therefore found himself among kindred spirits.
Standing Up for the Reformation Initially, Bucer had intended to stop over only briefly in Wissembourg, since he and his wife were on their way to Strasbourg, where Bucer was planning to leave her with his parents and then travel on alone to Wittenberg to continue his studies. But Heinrich Motherer insisted he remain in Wissembourg and assist him in preaching the gospel. Bucer finally agreed to become Motherer's chaplain for the next six months. Motherer dutifully reported the appointment of a new helper to the vicar general in Speyer.
Full of energy, Bucer went straight to work and started preaching once a day, and on Sundays and holidays even twice a day, morning and afternoon. In the course of his daily sermons, he systematically made his way through entire books of the Bible, beginning one day where he had left off the previous. After completing 1 Peter, he continued with the Gospel of Matthew. Only his deportation from Wissembourg at the beginning of May prevented him from concluding this series. Bucer later presented a compendium of what he had preached, in a pamphlet printed in Strasbourg under the title Swmmary.*° During his time in Wissembourg, and in fact already while in Landstuhl, Bucer had become convinced that he was living in the end times. He believed he had only two options in this situation: to join Christ's side and live from his Spirit or to remain in the large and mighty camp of the antichrist. The abuse, suffering, and persecution endured by adherents of the Reformation therefore took on a deeper meaning.
Rooted in this theological interpretation of the present, Bucer developed his understanding of Christian existence in positive and negative terms. Christian existence for Bucer had its foundation in the Bible, God's law, the Christian's only rule and standard. Therefore, it was essential that not only the clergy but also laypeople become acquainted with and study the Bible. At the center of the Bible stood the message that God revealed himself in Jesus Christ and this message was to be received by faith. Bucer saw faith as trusting that God is loving and compassionate toward human beings. "There must be a rejoicing in God, trusting him freely and finding comfort in him as in a father, since he in fact cares for us and loves us more than a father his son or a mother her helpless infant."*+! Whoever is possessed of a faith like this is also possessed of the Holy Spirit and has
Between Erasmus and Luther
handed himself over to God so completely that he cannot help but love God with all his heart and with all his strength, but also his fellow human beings as he loves himself. This had profound implications for understanding what the church is. For Bucer, the church was primarily and especially the community of those bound to one another by the same trust in God and the same spirit of commitment to their fellow human beings, to their neighbors. 'The Mass, at the heart of Catholic worship and essential to understanding the church as an institution that dispensed salvation, now took on a completely different meaning. No longer did the priest repeat Christ's sacrifice on the cross, thus reconciling the congregation with God, but rather a compassionate Father bestowed the free gift of his reconciliation on the gathered believers. For this reason, the Mass meant for Bucer "nothing else than receiving the body and blood of our Lord
Jesus Christ, so that we may remember him who gave his body for us and poured his blood for the forgiveness of our sins—blood confirming the new and eternal testament that provides us with the grace of the Father and the forgiveness of all our sins."** Bucer accompanied these statements with bitter attacks against the traditional church and its representatives, particularly the monastic orders. Intertwining theological condemnation with social critique, Bucer accused monks of falsifying the word of God and putting human ordinances and ceremonies in the place of the clear biblical injunction to live entirely and unconditionally for the benefit of one's neighbor; instead, monks exploited and abused their fellow human beings! Not shrinking from inflammatory and provocative language,
Bucer claimed: "There isn't anything spiritual about them and not even a touch of natural human decency in them; all they think about is to conduct themselves as unbridled and reckless lords, just because their fingers are smeared with a bit of holy oil and a lock of hair was cut off their heads.
All they do is sell the body and blood of Christ and mumble or wail their way through the Psalms, without understanding a word and with their thoughts elsewhere. At the same time they suck the marrow out of the poor man's bones and ravish his wife and daughters. 'Io sum it up: all unbelief, sin, disgrace and complete doom ensues from them."*°
Bucer then drew up six theses summarizing his convictions and rejecting church ceremonies. Actively seeking a decisive confrontation with his opponents, he arranged for a public disputation to take place at noon on April 8, 1523. Even though Bucer had printed and publicized his theses from the beginning of March, and had gone personally to the Franciscans and Dominicans of Wissembourg to challenge them to this face-off, they simply ignored him. They knew very well that time was on their side, for
Martin Bucer Bucer's situation had become extremely disadvantageous. Inflamed by his sermons, many in Wissembourg were ready to resort to violence to reclaim what their forefathers had endowed to the town's churches and monasteries.** Bucer refused to have anything to do with this. He had trouble, though, making his appeasing voice heard in the din of public uproar. For others in Wissembourg—and not just the monks—this just proved what they had suspected all along: that Bucer's preaching led to rebellion and prompted common folk to "not wish to obey Christian and temporal authorities any more, but rather desire to kill them and take what is theirs, counter to all honor, to God, and to the law."*"
The town council continued to support Bucer, but some councilmen began to waver when the vicar general of Speyer summoned Bucer to appear for interrogation. It is not surprising that the church hierarchy took interest in Bucer: it was not about to leave a priest unchecked whom
Papal Nuncio Girolamo Aleander had described as far more dangerous than Hutten, and who, furthermore, was married, supported Sickingen, and now openly advocated the Lutheran heresy. Soon afterward, the bishop strictly ordered the Wissembourg city council to expel Bucer. The council requested advice from Strasbourg on January 10. The Strasbourg council responded that it allowed its own preacher Matthew Zell to continue preaching in spite of the traditional church's objections, as long as he proclaimed only "the pure gospel." This encouraged the Wissembourg council not to waver in its support of Bucer. He harbored no illusions, however, about his vulnerability. He clearly saw that he was dangling from two thin threads: the groundswell of emotional support from the populace and his enemies' fear of Sickingen. The moment Sickingen fell, Bucer wrote in mid-January 1523, a mighty reaction would follow.*¢
The bishop of Speyer remained adamant and excommunicated Bucer.
The Wissembourg delegates at the assembly of imperial cities (Stddtetag) in Speyer negotiated with the bishop from March 31 to April 2, managing to have him postpone his definitive decision for one month. It was evident, though, that the bishop also knew time was on his side. His brother,
Elector Palatine Ludwig V, set out in mid-April on a joint campaign with Landgrave Philip of Hesse and Trier Elector Richard von Greiffenklau to eliminate Sickingen once and for all. As expected, the defiant knight was defeated, dying in the ruins of his castle on May 7. Hardly a week later, on May 13, the elector Palatine's army occupied the village of Schlettenbach (now Niederschlettenbach), some six miles northwest of Wissembourg. The town council now urged Motherer and Bucer to leave
Wissembourg secretly to avoid causing unrest in the populace. They,
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together with their pregnant wives, left that night, heading for Strasbourg. Soon afterward, on May 20, 1523, Wissembourg was forced to sign the Schlettenbach treaty, which reinstated the traditional privileges of the electoral Palatinate, subordinated the parish church once again to the abbey, and forbade any changes in religious and church matters. The attempt to introduce the Reformation in Wissembourg had failed for the time being.
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