Lyndal Roper has already written a monumental biography of Maritin Luther. You know, the kind of book that is so monumental that it can undoubtedly be used as a weapon. So why another book? She asks and answers that question in the preface to this little collection of essays. When the 500th anniversary of Luther's theses was to be celebrated in Germany, there was the somewhat naive hope that Luther could become a unifying symbol for a modern Germany in desperate need of a new narrative and a new story about itself. Attempts at this invented tradition as Eric Hobsbawm would call it were doomed to be as stillborn as the attempts to revitalise modern German Lutheranism. Roper's explanation for this is partly that Luther is impossible to use as such a symbol, largely because there is a dark side to him that is often hidden. Or rather, many dark sides. And it is these downsides to the self-proclaimed hero of the Reformation that Roper now confronts both himself and us with.
The explicit purpose of the book is the penultimate essay, which deals with Luther's anti-Semitism. The fact that the usual excuses that it was of its time, and no worse than other contemporaries, are pure lies is something that Roper convincingly demonstrates. Rather, it is part of Luter's character, his luxuriant hat which was something he systematically cultivated ever since he broke with the Church. But we are getting ahead of ourselves.
The book begins with an intriguing art history essay on the somewhat ironic fact that the founder of the Reformation, who was an opponent of icons, became one himself. A similar analysis of how one of the first public relations wars was fought with the help of images when the printing press was new. And how the physical image is deliberately cultivated. This is later interwoven with the analysis of masculinity. Because if monks were seen as feminine, it was important for Luther to present himself as the opposite. The most masculine man Germany had ever seen. Something that the images reinforce. From brittle, angelic monks to men who dared their own fatness and portrayed themselves as the patriarch of their own home. No longer outside this world but sons of it. Perhaps the analysis of the brash masculinity embraced by Luther is Roper's most enduring contribution.
The image of specific masculinity that emerges is that of brash and proud allusions to one's own genitals, and attacks on the manhood of others. A fiery pride that erupted into a burning hatred of anyone who disagreed with him. And, of course, the constant references to faeces. This extremely physical anger, rage, hatred and absolute self-confidence was first directed at the Pope and the Catholic Church. But was later directed at the Jews. But this time without the Mari cult as its basis. The more Luther distanced himself from the rest of Christendom, the more frenzied his attacks on the Jews became. Just read the following:
There is much else to say about this book, Roper sees Luhuter as one of the great heroes of the Reformation but is refreshingly clear in his treatment of her hero's shortcomings. The only flaw is that I would have liked more context. To see how this all took place in a historical context, what happened at the same time and what were the other lines and paths chosen and discarded as this neurotic monk set Europe on fire and forever crossed Christendom.