The Seven Theses of the Anabaptists
The ninety-five theses Martin Luther posted on the door of Wittenberg Church on October 31, 1517, are very famous. They began a revolution in world affairs religiously, politically, and even socially. Four years later he was called to account before the greatest spiritual and secular powers on earth: representatives of the Pope and Charles V, Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire. Luther’s answer still rings out as a monument to the freedom of conscience and the dignity of the individual. Indeed, his stand that day has been called one of the greatest moments in history:
Unless I am convicted by scripture and plain reason — I do not accept the authority of the popes and councils, for they have contradicted each other — my conscience is captive to the Word of God. I cannot and I will not recant anything for to go against conscience is neither right nor safe. Here I stand. I cannot do otherwise. God help me, Amen!
Just ten years after Luther’s ninety-five theses shook the world, another young priest posted seven theses on the door of the same cathedral in Worms in which Luther was called to account by the Imperial Diet. 1 The seven articles of Jacob Kautz were posted in exactly the same style and for exactly the same purpose as Luther’s ninety-five theses — to stimulate discussion and debate. However, Kautz and his movement, the Anabaptists, met the fate the Pope desired for Luther’s Reformation also — fire and the sword.
The Threat of the Anabaptists
They achieved the dubious and dangerous distinction of being labeled heretics by both Catholics and Protestants. And why?
This was because their radical theology was a threat to the existing social order in which church and state were collaborators. This radical criticism of the very structure of society resulted in the unrelenting attempts of Catholics and Protestants to stamp it out.2
To understand why they were viewed that way takes us to the heart of Christian theology and its age-old insistence on encompassing all of society in an authoritarian embrace — no exceptions allowed. And in many ways, even today in nations where church and state are separate, this fundamental world view remains in Christian theology, and its expression may well see the darkness of night once again.
Infant Baptism and Free Will
Jacob Kautz and two others, Hans Denck and Ludwig Haetzer, defended the seven articles in the town square of Worms on June 13, 1527. The third thesis they had posted on the door of the cathedral struck at what many saw as a pillar of society — infant baptism. One was tied from birth to his church and to his state. But these men objected:
The baptism of infants is not of God. It is against God and his teaching given to us through Christ Jesus, his beloved Son.3
This rejection of historic Christian doctrine was founded upon two things. First, the baptism of infants was found nowhere in the New Testament, and secondly, infants could make no free choice in the matter. Anabaptists could not stand Luther’s insistence that man’s will was enslaved, either to God or to the devil, and man could not freely choose whom he would serve. 4 This was a point of contention between not only the Reformers and the Anabaptists, but between the Reformers and the Catholics.
The Protest against the Protestants
The essence of what the Anabaptists said, which got them in so much trouble, was that the life of believers had to be different or else the Reformation was just a farce. People had to live their convictions out. Their challenge to the Reformers in these Seven Articles was simple: “How can you say all these things and not live them?”
The sixth thesis of Worms said that if they weren’t living them out, then all that Christ had done for them was of no value. In other words, the Anabaptists taught that whoever did not follow Christ and obey His commands did not believe in Him. For them, Christ may as well not have come:
Jesus from Nazareth did not suffer for us in any way, he did nothing to satisfy God for us, as long as we do not follow him in the way he went before us — unless we follow the commands of the Father, like Christ follows them — every man according to his ability.5
This was revolutionary talk! Two weeks later, the councilors of Worms expelled the “troublemakers” from their midst. They dared to expose the Reformation’s nakedness, like the child in Hans Christian Anderson’s famous parable, The Emperor’s New Clothes. Just as the foolish emperor’s “new clothes” were imaginary, so was the Reformation’s connection to Christ. It was, in their view, only adorned with the intellectual doctrines of clever men like Luther.
Naturally, the Reformers responded on the basis of theology, not on whether their religious instruction made any difference in the lives of the people. Indeed, it was an essential aspect of their theology that the Reformation need make no radical difference in the lives of the people. Their works were irrelevant to God. Only their “faith” mattered. To expect the Reformation to make the people more holy or godly would be advocating “works righteousness.” This charge was hurled at the Anabaptists.
Church, State, School, and Army
There were areas where Luther did want his reformation to make a difference in society. One of them was compulsory education. He compared it to the state’s supposed right of appropriating a man’s life and compelling him to bear arms and kill other men in war. If the state could do one, it could do the other.
