I recently finished reading a well-written biography titled Luther, the Reformer: The Story of the Man and His Career by James M. Kittelson. The biography helped me realize that my perspective on the reformer was somewhat limited. I had always viewed Luther as the master theologian who bravely refused to recant his beliefs before a great assembly at the Diet of Worms. No doubt a triumphant scene cherished by most Protestants. However, despite this and many of his other courageous acts concerning his reforming ideas, Luther still held to some rather odd ideas.

For one, he continued to believe, long after his reforming concepts had swept through Germany, that the bread and the wine during the Lord’s Supper transformed into Christ’s actual body and blood, a process referred to as transubstantiation. Even though many of his fellow reformers began to see the bread and wine as merely symbols for Christ’s body and blood, Luther explained that he simply could not get past the words, “…this is my body,” found in the Synoptic Gospels.

This is perhaps a strange controversy to most modern Protestant Christians, who would probably be more likely to agree with Luther’s associates than Luther himself that when Christ originally uttered the words, “This is my body” He was sitting right there with His full body— half of which was not on the table. However, Luther countered this “geography” argument by pointing out that God could be in two places at once, which is obviously true. But for the Protestant who wanted to disassociate him or herself from the institution and traditions of a medieval church, the only thing that transubstantiation seemed to offer was an indirect means by which to bind the believer to that institution and those traditions.

The reason there existed a desire for this disassociation was because it was evident, and had been evident for some time, that there were many erroneous practices occurring within the medieval church. One of these traditions was referred to as Sacerdotalism. This was the belief that a priest needed to carry out the sacraments. One of the motivations for why this conviction was put into practice was because it was thought that involving oneself in the sacraments, which included the Lord’s Supper, helped to bring about salvation. Kittelson doesn't really get into this but because it was thought that the sacraments were tied to salvation, it fell to a trained priest to carry them out in order to guarantee that they were done properly. Adding to the support for Sacerdotalism was transubstantiation, for if the bread and wine were in fact Christ’s body and blood, than only a priest could handle such holy things.

Why Luther never came to see the connection between transubstantiation and Sacerdotalism is somewhat perplexing. However, one reason for this may have been that his concentration was on something much more important. Luther strongly protested against the idea that salvation could be found in performing or in participating in the sacraments. It was only through faith in Christ that one could find redemption. This was Luther’s center of attention. And perhaps because of this focus, Luther unwittingly supported the concept of transubstantiation, which indirectly sustained the very ideas that he was fighting against.

Luther’s attention on disavowing the idea that the sacraments equated to salvation did allow him to see, perhaps before others had, that this type of thinking was just another way to say that through works, one could find redemption. However, taking this to the extreme, Luther thought this error so grave that he became suspicion of anyone promoting good works. He believed it was just too easy for any believer to look to their good works instead of to Christ for their deliverance.

One can see an earlier source for Luther’s negative attitude toward good works. He had spent his younger days at a monastery, believing like pretty much everyone else at the time that through such an ascetic lifestyle one could help his or her salvation along. In other words, coupled with involving oneself in the sacraments, this type of life helped to guarantee one’s salvation. When Luther began to understand that one’s efforts did not bring about salvation, which is the biblical concept of true salvation, he saw these labors or good works in a negative light. Later his friends, Contarini and Melanchthon would provide the groundwork for an explanation that good works were merely a reflection of one’s salvation, an explanation that most Christian apologists use today. But Luther didn’t like this either. His early and ongoing experiences with the medieval church created the perfect ground to seed his doubts concerning good works.

Luther’s negative attitude toward good works should not be confused with his views on moral living. Luther was not a libertine. However, he, as Kittelson surmised, thought that keeping one’s conscience clear was the main point of living a moral life. In other words, when one’s conscience was clear, the Devil could not get a foothold.

Beyond the central and important concepts of salvation, Luther did have a rather open-minded attitude toward the Bible itself. He contended that it was up to the believer to decide which books of the Bible were of more value to them personally. In one respect, this idea is not so controversial. For example, the book of Leviticus is probably not as essential to the Christian’s daily walk as the books of the New Testament. On the other hand, Leviticus is still an important and even vital book of the Bible since it provides foundational information needed to understand other areas of the text.

Perhaps Luther did not see the cause and effect of statements such as these. Today, there is a belief system called Pauline Christianity, which espouses that only the teachings of Paul are meant for the church. The other books of the Bible, such as the Gospels are viewed, by those in this system, as being only useful to the early Jews. By saying that you can choose which books of the Bible are of greater value to you, Luther perhaps helped provide the foundation for this erroneous hierarchical view of Scripture.

Beyond these theological criticisms, we come to Luther’s personality and manner. Well known were his many angry outbursts directed at those who disagreed with him. The last tract he ever wrote was bitingly titled, Against the Asses at Paris and Louvain. Rome and even his fellow Protestant believers were not immune to his name-calling or accusations of being guided by the Devil. Perhaps if this manner would have been kept better in check, Luther may have been able to help change more minds within the establishment of the church. On the other hand, it was precisely this feisty attitude which no doubt captured people’s attention. It also served to motivate Luther to continue to work. Anger can often be a double-edged sword.

What we have in Kittelson’s Luther is a very human Luther. This is evident not only in Luther’s persona but also surprisingly in certain aspects of his theology. However, even a human Luther was able to do something extraordinary. We as flawed believers have, with God’s help, this opportunity as well.