Not all figures important to a particular event are destined for widespread recognition. This is even truer when half a millennium has passed since the event in question. The Protestant Reformation, which officially began on October 31, 1517, was based on a theological disputation of Catholic doctrinal practices. Martin Luther, a professor of moral theology at the University of Wittenberg, objected to the sale of indulgences, certificates which, for a price, would reduce purgatorial punishment for the souls of the buyer’s loved ones.[1] Luther’s intent in writing the Ninety-five Theses, also known as “Disputation on the Power and Efficacy of Indulgences,” and his decision to address his objection to indulgences in a letter to his bishop, the Archbishop of Mainz - along with a copy of “Disputation”- was not to directly challenge church authority, but rather to spark academic debate in the wake of friar Johann Tetzel’s arrival in Germany in 1516 and his appointment to the position of general commissioner for the diocese of Magdeburg and Halberstadt. The Church wished to rebuild St. Peter’s Basilica, and Tetzel had several years of experience with the sale of indulgences between 1503 and 1510. Moreover, Albrecht von Brandenburg, the Archbishop of Mainz, already owed nearly ten thousand ducats for the basilica project, and he received permission from Pope Leo X to offset his personal debt through the sale of indulgences.[2]
Neither Luther’s letter nor his Theses received a reply from the Archbishop, who forwarded the letter to Pope Leo X. Over the next five years, through persecution, excommunication, and the threat of death hanging over him, Luther’s reforms gained followers across Europe as his writing expanded from indulgences to doctrinal practices such as the idea of confession and clerical vows, arguing that private confession is allowed as “every Christian is a confessor” and that vows are an illegitimate attempt to win salvation.[3] Many of these followers are widely remembered as influential in shaping Protestant doctrines across what would become several new denominations: Desiderius Erasmus, the humanist priest who taught synergism, free-will, and pastoral tolerance; John Calvin, the French theologian who believed in God’s absolute sovereignty, predestination, and monergism; Ulrich Zwingli, who attacked church practices such as fasting, celibacy, and corruption in the church hierarchy; Luther, who sparked the wide reforms, who brazenly stood his ground against the church. But, there was another figure who debated these men and others, who was instrumental in helping John Calvin shape his understanding of the nature of the Eucharist. A law student turned theologian, this man was first an assistant to Erasmus during his efforts to translate the New Testament into Greek, and later became a preacher in Basil in 1515.[4] He is ignored - almost pointedly so - by the author of “Calvin and Calvinism,” who wrote that he had a “very substantial role to play in the establishment of Calvinism,” but generally “has been ignored” by academics hoping to understand the Reformation.[5] This man was Johannes Oecolampadius. He was neither the simple Zwinglian disciple not the mouthpiece for Calvinism he is often characterized as, but instead his theological contribution to the Eucharistic debates made him a precursor to Calvin’s ideas regarding Christ’s spiritual presence in the Eucharist.[6]
Born Johannes Heussgen in Weinsberg, Electorate Palatinate in 1482, he was a skilled student who first gained a degree at the University of Heidelberg and later at the University of Tubingen in 1513. During this period he became a master of Latin, Greek, and Hebrew and came to the attention of other academics such as Phillip Melanchthon, Johann Reuchlin, and Erasmus. His skill was such that, under the advice of his friend Wolfgang Capito - who was also a mutual friend of Melanchthon - Oecolampadius traveled to Basel and served as an editorial assistant and consultant for Hebrew and Greek for Erasmus’ Novum Testamentum Omne, a Greek and Latin language New Testament with scholarly annotations that later served as the basis for new translations by Martin Luther, William Tyndale, and, notably, the King James version of the Bible.[7]
Much of the next two years, 1516-1518, was spent dividing his time between translating Greek works and preaching first in Basel and later in Augsburg. His personal leanings toward austerity and mysticism were echoed by the 4th and 5th century texts he translated, and he enjoyed drawing correlations between those ancient times and the world in which he lived. Those books provided ample annotations for his sermons, which were often criticized because they were humorless and did not contain the levity that had become a part of other sermons, evidenced in his scathing rebuke of “Easter Laughter” in his De risu paschali from 1518.
As the Reformation spread, Oecolampadius found his own doctrinal perspectives led him to support Martin Luther in the anonymously penned Canonici indocti. In 1518, an invitation to preach at the high church of Augsburg was extended. He was thus torn when he found he was being considered for a professorship in Hebrew at the University of Wittenberg - a post Melanchthon and Reuchlin encouraged him to accept. Had he done so, and fallen into Luther’s sphere of influence Oecolampadius’ role in the Reformation may have been significantly different, as may have been Calvin’s. Oecolampadius eventually accepted the role at Augsburg, but this led to a period of severe self-examination as a result of having brought himself further into the hotbed of Reformational zeal and for giving more outspoken sermons than the other clergy preferred; thus, Oecolampadius entered a Brigittine monastery in 1521.[8]
This monastic turn was one Oecolampadius’ contemporaries had not expected, and his theology clashed immediately with that of the other monks at Altomünster.[9] He received letters from Luther, penned others to Zwingli, and was accused of being a Lutheran by Francisco de Quiñones, the confessor of Emperor Charles V at the Diet of Worms, a charge Oecolampadius vigorously denied.[10] Having quickly determined the monastery did not create a suitable Christian lifestyle, Oecolampadius left the cloister, admitting that he had “lost the monk but found the Christian.”[11]
After ministering to a group near Creuznach at Ebernburg Castle, he eventually returned to Basel, where in 1523 Oecolampadius became the vicar of St. Martin’s and a professor of theology at the university. Oecolampadius became something of a celebrity when he began delivering lectures on the prophet Isaiah before enthralled crowds, due in part to his use of German.[12] In conjunction, his preaching reached heights of influence that it had not at either the first appointment at Basel cathedral or that at Augsburg, though his tendency toward Lutheranism was at this point obvious to the monks who St. Martin’s with Oecolampadius. His relationship with Erasmus, which had remained congenial since his days serving as Eramus’s translator, began to erode as Oecolampadius moved further into the Reformed camp, and soured further when Oecolampadius refuted some of Erasmus attacks against Luther’s doctrines, pushed the use of German in baptisms, and replaced Mass with the Lord’s Supper in memoriam rather than as a sacrament that housed the literal body of Christ, as Oecolampadius interpreted Christ’s admonition.[13]
Oecolampadius’ doctrines stirred immediate fear and no small amount of anxiety, not only amongst the Council of Basil but among several of his peers. His interpretation of a eucharist that was “in memoriam” invoked the ire of the Basil council, and they refused to allow the 1525 work De genuine verborum Domini, Oecolampadius’ opinion on the Eucharist, to be published without an outside opinion.[14] To this end, opted to ask Erasmus for his position on the matter. When that reply was intentionally evasive, the Council redoubled its stance against Oecolampadius, and the treatise was eventually published in Strasbourg.[15]
By 1529 the doctrinal schism had so divided the Reformers that Phillip I of Hesse called for a summit in Marburg to attempt to reconcile the differences in theology. This was not simply to have a single, unified Protestant faith; rather, Phillip’s motivation was the 1521 Edict of Worms and the 1529 Diet of Speyer which had condemned religious choice with the Holy Roman Empire and had demanded that Catholicism be followed across the entirety of the empire. Philip I had formally protested the recess of Speyer, along with five other princes and the leadership of fourteen Imperial Free Cities.[16]
The recess issued at Speyer had more dire consequences for many reformers. The 1529 recess went further than just reversing the decision the 1526 Diet of Speyer had made regarding toleration, but also specifically targeted Zwinglians and Anabaptists, the latter of which was an offense punishable by death.[17] In this charged climate, Philip I had hoped to facilitate the creation of a unified Protestant faith, one that could stand in defense of its principles against the Catholics.
While the summit began auspiciously, the participants – Luther, Zwingli, Bucer, Melanchthon, Oecolampadius, and others – could not agree on the nature of the Eucharist. This fifteenth and final point proved to be the schism that could not be reconciled, even as much as Zwingli wished wholeheartedly to be “at one with the Wittenbergers.”[18] To put it simply, Luther maintained that the flesh and blood of Christ were physically present in the Eucharist, though they were not consumed in the physical way that food was. This appalled Zwingli, who argued that the bread and wine were only signs that represented Christ, but did not physically become them. To do so implied that the flesh and blood of Christ, once eaten, would inevitably have to be excreted from the body. This fact and the notion of theophagy not only reeked of paganism and cannibalism, but struck Zwingli the same as the invocation of saints and baptismal regeneration had: as little more than an obstacle to the truth that the only path to salvation was through faith alone.[19]
The failure of the Marburg Colloquy directly contributed to the religious tension that led to the outbreak of the Thirty Years War. In failing to unify Protestantism, the emperor and the Catholic Church were able to take advantage of the vulnerability inherent in “cuius regio eius religio” which allowed the rulers in the Holy Roman Empire to choose their religion as they saw fit. This undermined the stability of Protestantism, as it was expected that, with the crowning or a new ruler, the subject’s faith would align with his own. This precluded a stable Protestant tradition, as even places with a majority Protestant population were only able to practice with the consent of their ruler.
Without a unified front, there was little Protestant rulers or reformers could do to combat aggressive Catholic policies. Forcing religious change undermined Protestantism more than it did Catholicism. Further, by extending toleration to Lutheranism and neglecting Calvinism the emperor ensured that religious tensions would escalate and that the Catholic Church would be free to pursue its own agenda. Even as late as 1607-1609 Catholic rulers sought to restrict the spread of Protestantism through Imperial Edict and legislative authority. The so-called “Battle of the Flags” in 1606 resulted in the annexation of Donauwörth and the conversion from Lutheran to Catholicism, and the demand of the restoration of all lost Catholic property by Archduke Ferdinand in the 1608 Imperial Diet left Protestants feel as if all pretext of Imperial neutrality had vanished entirely.[20]
It’s difficult to consider the 30 Years War as anything but inevitable when we consider all the circumstances surrounding the tensions and acrimony from 1606 to 1619. To be sure, the best chance for a negotiated settlement that would end the Bohemian Revolt without it widening into a European conflict died with Emperor Mattias in the spring of 1619. It’s even more difficult to speculate with any accuracy what effect a united Protestant theology would have had on those events, as there was generally lukewarm support for Ferdinand’s removal from the throne, even if the basis of such removal was his tendency toward Protestant persecution.[21] The irony is that their refusal to support Frederick V of the Palatinate because of his apparent theft of another man’s crown led to similar outrage when Ferdinand occupied the Palatinate, and transferred both the Upper Palatinate and the electoral vote to Maximillian of Bavaria, Ferdinand’s staunchly Catholic ally. This both angered other German rulers who considered this to be an infringement on their liberties and set the precedent for the reclamation of Catholic lands lost since the Peace of Augsberg – a precedent Ferdinand expected to take full advantage of.
While Oecolampadius was not the outspoken, firebrand Reformer many of his contemporaries are remembered as, he was a crucial fixture in a time when doctrines were on unsteady ground and theological disputes were commonplace. He frequently disagreed with how church matters were handled by the local council and wrote Oratio de reducenda excommunicationae as a proposal that ecclesiastical matters should best be left to the governance of church officials. While this was rejected in Basil, it became the standard in Strasbourg and Geneva, where Bucer and Calvin were able to more directly guide the Reformation, even as Oecolampadius had not been able to do so in Basil. It’s unlikely that any change to his doctrinal philosophy would have inspired Zwingli or Calvin to follow suit, though it’s even further unlikely that a united Protestant front that may have emerged from the Marburg Colloquy would have dissuaded Ferdinand from pursuing the reclamation of lost Catholic lands.
[1] Martin Luther and Kurt Aland, Martin Luther’s 95 Theses: With Pertinent Documents from the History of the Reformation (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 1967), 1.
[2] Roland Bainton, Here I Stand: A Life of Martin Luther (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1950), 75.
[3] Martin Brecht, Martin Luther, vol.2 (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1994), 18-21; Richard Marius, Luther (London: Quartet Press, 1975), 163-164.
[4] James Brashler, “From Erasmus to Calvin: Exploring the Roots of Reformed Hermeneutics,” Interpretation: A Journal of Bible and Theology vol 63, no. 2 (2009), 163.
[5] Brian G. Armstrong, “Calvin and Calvinism,” in Reformation Europe: A Guide to Research II (St. Louis, Center for Reformation Research, 1992), 77.
[6] F.L. Cross and E.A. Livingstone, eds., “Oecolampadius, Johannes,” Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church, 3rd ed., (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 1182.
[7] This friendship would go beyond sharing books and offering one another counsel. Oecoloampadius married Wibrandis Rosenblatt in 1526, the widow of Ludwig Keller, who had died earlier that year. Rosenblatt came into the marriage with a daughter, and she had three more with Oecolampadius before his death in 1531. She then married the newly widowed Wolfgang Capito, bearing a further five children before Capito and several of the collective children died of the plague in 1541. A friend, Elizabeth Bucer, the wife of Reformist theologian Martin Bucer died in the same plague, and Rosenblatt in turn married Bucer due to a promise made to Elizabeth, and bore him two children. In an annotation, Nicholas Piotrowski noted that behind every great man stands a greater woman. Certainly she pulled quadruple duty in that regard, but in this case, with 11 children, Rosenblatt bore the fruit of the Reformation as well. See: Gordon Rupp, Patterns of the Reformation (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1969), 9.
[8] John Dyck, “Johannes Oecolampadius: Lighthouse of the Reformation,” WRS Journal vol. 3, no 2 (1996), 25.
[9] Some scholars believe Oecolampadius had become much like Erasmus – neutral, inquisitive, willing to engage in thoughtful debate with other intelligent individuals to test the efficacy of his theology. F.L. Cross and E.A. Livingstone, eds., “Oecolampadius, Johannes,” Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church, 3rd ed., (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 1182.
[10] Oecolampadius had made no attempt to fit in with the monks, and they had no more reason to believe he should be there than his academic peers had. His practices differed from their own, and his theology aligned him more closely with a heretic than a theologian. See: K.R. Hagenbach, History of the Reformation in Germany and Switzerland Chiefly, 2 vols. (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1878), 1:278.
[11] Ibid, 1:278
[12] John Dyck, “Johannes Oecolampadius: Lighthouse of the Reformation,” WRS Journal vol. 3, no 2 (1996), 26.
[13] K.R. Hagenbach, History of the Reformation in Germany and Switzerland Chiefly, 2 vols. (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1878), 1:333-334.
[14] Thomas A. Fudge, ―Icarus of Basel? Oecolampadius and the Early Swiss Reformation, Journal of Religious History 21 (1997): 271.
[15] Hagenbach alluded to Erasmus increasingly unwavering attitude toward church doctrine as the Reformers began to challenge more of the sacraments directly, and became, almost subservient to the whims of the Church. See: K.R. Hagenbach, History of the Reformation in Germany and Switzerland Chiefly, 2 vols. (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1878), 1:368.
[16] This is where the term Protestant became attached to the new doctrines the reformers had created. Phillip was joined in protest by John the Steadfast, Elector of Saxony, George the Pious of Brandenburg-Ansbach, Ernest I the Confessor of Brunswick-Lüneburg, Francis, Duke of Brunswick-Lüneburg, and Prince Wolfgang of Anhalt-Köthen. See” David H. Pill, The English Reformation, 1529-58 (Totowa, NJ: Rowman and Littlefield, 1973), 220.
[17] Anabaptist persecution was one of the few topics during this period on which the Catholics and Protestants were in complete agreement. Their rejection of state religion led to suspicion in both Catholic and Protestant regions, and the idea of willing acceptance of baptism as a prerequisite, as opposed to infant baptism, led to many rulers considering ‘third baptism’ – drowning – as the best cure for that particular faith. See: James A. Haught, “Holy Horrors: Christian Persecution of Anabaptists,” accessed October 15, 2024.
[18] Timothy George, Theology of the Reformers (Nashville: B&H Publishing, 1988), 157-158.
[19] Ulrich Gäbler, Huldrych Zwingli: His Life and Work (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1986), 131-135
[20] Wilson argued that these events as well as the formation of the Protestant Union and Catholic League in 1608 and 1609, respectively, as well as the 1609-1614 War of Jülich Secession were the real beginning of the conflict. Thus, then, the Defenestration of Prague would have been more of the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back than the catalyst for war. See: Peter H. Wilson, The Thirty Years War: Europe’s Tragedy (Cambridge: Belknap Press, 2009), 224-226.
[21] Ferdinand had taken control of Styria in 1596 upon reaching the age of majority. Initially, he had avoided religious matters, but by 1597 he met with Emperor Rudolf II where Ferdinand informed him that he intended to strengthen the Catholic position in Austria. Though the emperor discouraged Ferdinand from provoking his Protestant subjects – a sentiment echoed by Pope Clement VIII during a meeting in 1598 – he opted to expel Protestant pastors and teachers and installed Catholic priests in every town with Spanish and Italian mercenaries acting as enforcement. See: Robert Birely, Ferdinand II: Counter-Reformation Emperor, 1578-1637 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014), 25-39.
