"Christus est me."

One of the joys, some might say curses, of historical research is that I am constantly discovering figures whose thought is deep and often revolutionary - particularly for their time - but for whatever reason, have been largely overlooked in the grand narratives of our history books. Irenaeus of Lyons, the second century figure who will command the majority of my attention in my dissertation, was one such figure. Most of the major history books rarely mention anyone earlier than Augustine (4th century). (Of course, this was prior to the Da Vinci Code dabocal, where Irenaeus actually comes to play. Even here, however, his thought is much misunderstood and characterized. But I digress.)

A recent figure that has captured me is the 16th century figure Johann von Staupitz. Generally, he is known to scholarship, if he is known at all, as Martin Luther's teacher and confessor. Thus, he is generally referred to as the "frontrunner of the Reformation", a title which completely overlooks the fact that he remained a member of the Roman Catholic Church to his dying day (though he also refused to condemn Luther). Rather, he worked for reform from within the walls of the Church and his theology is, therefore, much more nuanced and subtle than some of the more polemical works from the hands of the Reformers.

One of the primary ways in which his thought was subversive to the Catholic establishment was in his understanding of the union that is effected between Christ and the Christian. Generally speaking, the Catholic Scholasticism dominant in his day viewed the relationship primarily as a marriage between Christ and the Church. This marriage was, consequently, mediated (or appropriated) by the believers through the grace of the sacraments.

Staupitz picks up this marriage analogy (likely originating with Paul) and subtly changes it, emphasizing the union between Christ and each individual Christian. For Staupitz, the union revealed in Paul's marriage analogy was much more intimate and personal than had come to be interpreted by Scholasticism. It was not mediated by the Church or by the sacraments, the grace of God simply came to the human creature because God elected him or her to marry and therefore, pledged himself to him or her.

The vows which Staupitz believes effect this union express this intimate union in a most profound manner. Christ says to the believer:

"Ego accipio te meam,
accipio te mihi,
accipio in me."

("I accept the Christian to me,
I accept the Christian with me,
I accept the Christian into me.")

Staupitz interprets these progressing vows as Christ and the Christian becoming one in flesh, heart and spirit, such that the Christian can now say "I am Christ." As a result of this intimate union, all of the merits of Christ become ours. We now have a right and a title to heaven because we are Christ, not because we have merited it on our own account. Moreover, the sin that was ours is transferred to Christ, who also says in his vow: "I am the Christian." It is these sins that are put to death on the cross.

Finally, Staupitz envisions this marriage as happening at the point of justification. This is again quite different from Scholastic theology, and even from some of the more mystical theologians of the high medieval age, who believed the union with Christ was the result of much spiritual growth and something that one arrived at at the end of his or her journey. Staupitz sees it as a beginning. Christians are joined to Christ when they are justified and this union adheres throughout their life. What confidence should this inspire in us, if we truly believe that "I am Christ."

Most readers will see in this theology a radically Protestant understanding of the relationship between Christ and the Christian. Historically speaking, it was a Catholic understanding. Johann von Staupitz, for this reason, I think could be a starting point for ecumenical discussions. He is a witness to the fact that there is in the Catholic tradition a place for the concerns that the Reformers were raising. Unfortunately, at this point, he is too little known to history to work effectively in this role. We need more historians!

Protestant Ecumenists

"It was because they recognized what they had received through the Catholic Church that the first generation of Reformers wished for the renewal, not the disruption of the historic ecclesiastical structures. It was against their will that the visible continuity and unity were broken, and they thought of the separate polities which they established, not as new churches, but as temporary emergency measures. Convergence into a reformed and united church was their goal, and this once again is the objective of those Protestant ecumenists who are their heirs."

-George Lindbeck

"He died for your sins!"

Though scholars continually try to do it, it is notoriously difficult to trace the Reformation to one event or even to a set of events. The most common is that day in 1517 when Martin Luther pinned his 95 theses to the door of a church blasting many common churchly practices, the sale of indulgences first among them. But I don't think anyone of important stature took notice for quite some time. In any event, what was it in Luther's life that urged him to do this? He relates one story that I think is quite edifying for us today.

As Luther tells it, he was guilt ridden with his sins and would consistently go before his confessor Father Johann von Staupitz crying: "My sins are killing me." He would describe the picture of Christ he had to continually pass on his walks, one which pictured Christ the judge with two swords coming out of his mouth and how it left him hopeless. Staupitz, at this point much more keenly aware of the grace of God than Luther himself, used to say: "Luther, why do you bother me with these puppet sins. If you raped or murdered, then I would have something to absolve you of."

When he saw that this was not working, he took Luther into the sanctuary before the big cross, effectively turning his eyes from the picture of the judging Christ to the picture of the crucified Christ. "What do you see?" he asked Luther. "Oh its horrible. Its my judgment." Staupitz, growing somewhat impatient asked, "Why did he die?" And Luther in his obedient manner gave the answer he had likely given all his life: "For the sins of the world." Here Staupitz turned him and looked into his eyes crying: "Luther, he died for your sins! If you lack assurance, then you mistrust this man. What more can he do to show you his love? It's not that God is angry with you. It's that you are angry with God."

Luther later said that this turned his whole thinking upside down. And though, as many of you know, I am less a fan of the Reformation than many of my Protestant brothers and sisters because of the great schism he created in the church to this day, I can certainly recognize that reform was needed, particularly a greater understanding of the magnificent, overwhelming grace of Christ.