What was going on down in Nicolsburg?

As a beginning student of Anabaptism (an maybe I still really am and don’t realize how far I’ve yet to go) I always got confused over one of many things. What was going on down in Nicolsburg? As a student at a Baptist institution I was of course exposed to Balthasar Hübmaier with abnormal weight. What I remember thinking then of that important time in Hübmaier’s career was that he went down there, there was a controversy, Hübmaier is martyred, something else happened, add salt, shake well and out popped Hutterites. I knew it started with Hübmaier and ended with Hutterites but the road between the two was unclear. Something drastic must have happened in the innards of the Moravian mechanism that took a magisterial, sword-bearing input yet produced a separatist, pacifist, communitarian output.

So, with bravado unbecoming of my inexperience, I have decided to make a chart illustrating the path from Nicolsburg to Jacob Hutter. At about Hutter’s arrival, things get fissiparous and the Austerlitz group is splintered, with one group following Hutter and adopting his name as their own. Your screen, dear reader, is probably not big enough to contain such a chart; so, I will take you up to the arrival of Hutter and at least one piece of the puzzle should be clearer (or so I hope).

Here’s a narrative to accompany the chart. After Hübmaier’s recantation in Zürich, he left for Moravia via Augsburg, arriving in Nicolsburg in July 1526. Hübmaier began a magisterial Anabaptist reformation along the lines of that of Waldshut, befriending the local lords, the Liechtensteins. He had great success, performing a great number of baptisms subject to possible exaggeration. The advancement of his reformation among the indigenous population was augmented by the arrival of refugees.

There were tension between the locals and the refugees. The refugees, led by Jacob Wiedemann, were not supported by a magisterial reformation and preferred to exist as a separatist congregation. Accordingly, they began to hold their own meetings and as a matter of survival began to advocate mutual aid. This mutual aid was not yet developed into the more communalistic communitarianism for which the later Hutterites would be known.

Hübmaier was reforming a city. Wiedemann was with the refugees dissenting. And then there’s Hut. What had been an internal difference erupted into tract warfare. Hans Hut sided with Wiedemann and the refugees and began a campaign against Hübmaier. Hübmaier matched volleys by his writings against Hut. What began as a debate over separatism and the corollary of participation in the magistracy was turned to the issue of pacifism.[1] Although Hut left town for Vienna in June 1527 and soon thereafter martyred and in July Hübmaier was given up to the Hapsburg authorities, in whose hands he was martyred, the two parties were now irreconcilable. The positions they held on the question of pacifism became their identifying mark; Hübmaier’s congregation became known as the Schwertler (sword-bearers) and the dissenting group that remained under Wiedemann’s leadership became known as the Stäblers (staff-bearers).

The Schwertler were dissipated by persecutions in 1535 and have not been of much interest to scholars. The Stäbler were forced from Nicolsburg during the Spring of 1528 by the Lords who favored the magisterial reformation that had been Hübmaier’s legacy. They ended up in Austerlitz where their practice of mutual aid was radicalized into communalism. This group was enlarged by even more refugees, among whom differences of ideas were imported—differences that would lead to later fractionalization. One of the immigrants was Hutter, who would go on to lead one of these groups that would become known as the Hutterites.

If four paragraphs isn’t concise enough a narrative, let me try again. Hübmaier founded an Anabaptist church in Nicolsburg. Some of the church members wanted to be pacifists. The pacifists were kicked out of town and went to Austerlitz and formed a communitarian church. Many groups came out of that group, including the Hutterites.

So, I hope that clears up some of that little knot in Anabaptist history. I hope that it helps at least one person understand more clearly what was going on down there in Nicolsburg. At least the way my mind works, having things in chart format helps me understand it.

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[1]Hut was known for his apocalypticism, which was ardent enough to earn him the rebuke of Denck at the Martyrs’ synod of August 1527. Hut there agreed to place his apocalypticism at the periphery of his preaching. Such apocalypticism is often associated among the radicals with violence, for it was taught by some that the end of days was to be accompanied by the wrathful execution of God’s judgment of the unbelievers by the faithful church of God.  On the contrary, Hut’s end times fervency was pacifistic. He predicted that that judgment would come at the hands of the godless Turks on behalf of the faithful remnant.

Hübmaier and Article VII of the Baptist Faith and Message

            I arrived late to a Baptist research symposium to hear the Q&A following a student’s paper presentation. I don’t know what the paper was on except that had to do with Balthasar Hübmaier. The last question the faculty panel asked of the student was if Hübmaier would affirm the Baptist Faith and Message in regards to the Lord’s Supper. The student first responded by saying that Hübmaier would prefer relying on Scripture rather than on creeds or confessions. It was a bit of a pat answer but it was essentially correct. After thinking out loud for a few seconds, the student admitted that Hübmaier likely would agree to the substance of the BFM. Unfortunately that question had been the last and my immediately upshot hand was ignored. So, let’s reevaluate the question: would Hübmaier affirm the BFM’s teaching on the Lord’s Supper?

            Article VII of the BFM reads, “The Lord’s Supper is a symbolic act of obedience whereby members of the church, through partaking of the bread and the fruit of the vine, memorialize the death of the Redeemer and anticipate His second coming.”[1] Two aspects of this are important for our enquiry: the memorial aspect indicated by the words “symbolic” and “memorialize” and also the reference to the events of the crucifixion and the parousia. By referencing the event of the crucifixion the BFM bypasses the question of real presence that was at the fore of Reformation debates on the Supper. This is confirmed by Leon McBeth’s summary of historical Baptist understanding of the Lord’s Supper as “recall[ing] and reflect[ing] upon the death of Christ.”[2] McBeth further concluded that the central concern among Baptists regarding the Supper was real presence but rather the matter of who would be allowed to participate in the ordinance.

            Huldrych Zwingli’s memorial view was that the words of institution were metaphorical, with est of hoc est corpus meum taking the meaning of significant. The emphasis for Zwingli’s memorial view was the memorialized body, which was broken. For Baptist, as the BFM indicates, the emphasis is on the crucifixion event, during which that body was broken. The difference is of emphasis rather than substance on this point. While Baptists were engaged in a different debate on the Lord’s Supper, they retained an essentially Zwinglian answer to the debate from Hübmaier’s day. The first direction to take in answering the central question is to ask if Hübmaier would agree with the BFM’s understanding of real presence.

            Hübmaier’s teaching on the subject has been summarized often enough not to demand extensive treatment here.[3] John Rempel’s work, which has gained great currency in Anabaptist studies since its publication, summarizes Hübmaier’s opinion on real presence: "An ontological shift followed in which the visible church became the res referred to by the signum. That is to say, for Hubmaier the breaking of bread became preeminently a sign of the church and its covenant of obedience."[4] Further, "The Lord's Supper is [for Hübmaier] the sign that the incarnation is being carried on in the church."[5] If the Body of Christ memorialized in the Supper was for Hübmaier the church rather than the physical body as taught by Zwingli and evidently agreed to by Baptists, then Hübmaier would thus be at odds with the BFM.

            Reading Hübmaier’s writings might cause confusion if the chronological development of his controversy with his erstwhile co-reformer, Zwingli, is not taken into account. While that controversy centered on baptism, baptism was to the extent of that controversy’s reach. For instance, Hübmaier initially agreed with Zwingli, writing in one of his earliest works, Eighteen Theses Concerning the Christian Life of 1524, “The mass is not a sacrifice, but a memorial of the death of Christ.”[6] The editors of Hübmaier’s works commented on the similarity to one of Zwingli’s 67 Theses. Interestingly, both Zwingli and Hübmaier at this stage viewed the Supper as memorializing Christ’s death, thus further demonstrating the interchangeability of the body of Christ and the event during which that body was broken.

Directions toward including the church as the body of Christ alongside the physical body (in memory) of Christ are evident as Hübmaier’s thought developed. He wrote that believers partaking in the Supper are “willing to let [their] flesh and blood be broken and sacrificed, which [they have] now become one bread and one drink.”[7] While Hübmaier’s positioning of the church as the body of Christ represented in the Supper was a development of his thought beyond Zwinglian memorialism, perhaps even to the point of assuming greater prominence over the physical body of Christ, it is not as clear that the Zwinglian starting point had been set aside.[8] In Brewer’s estimation, Hübmaier’s “Eucharistic conclusion is the same as Zwingli’s, differing only in their hermeneutical routes.[9]

If Hübmaier intended to include the church as the res to the Supper’s signum to the exclusion of the physical body, then the BFM’s reference to the memorial of Christ’s death would not be in agreement with Hübmaier’s mature theology. If Hübmaier only intended to add a second meaning to the sign, then the BFM would be within Hübmaier’s teaching, although not fully encompassing the development of the additional meaning. While this may appear to allow Hübmaier the speculative affirmation of the BFM’s declaration on the real presence debate, given that the respective doctrinal statements were forged over the fires of different controversies. To make a judgment on this is admittedly speculative (a danger that will be addressed below), but it is evidence enough that Zwingli’s position was essentially no different than that of Baptists in general and that Hübmaier came to view Zwingli as an opponent on the issue.[10] This says little about other areas of possible disagreement between Hübmaier and the BFM’s teaching on the Supper such as the BFM’s eschatological outlook[11] or the BFM’s lack of entanglement of the Supper along with baptism into Hübmaier’s disciplinary ecclesiological superstructure.[12] If Hübmaier were to affirm the BFM, it would likely be with qualification at the least.

Why then indulge in such speculation? There is a danger in speculation to the point of losing focus on what was actually said, even if there were tendencies evident in the life of a theologian whose untimely death aborted a full fruition of his thought. Also, and more urgently, there is the possibility of idealizing a theologian of near kinship that can anachronistically project onto a historical figure the image of the one speculating. I suspect that this is what happened in our case here–the student may have saw great similarity on clearer areas and made a premature judgment on a grey area. A beach ball and a bowling ball cast remarkably similar shadows but seeing only the shadow would be a poor guide to deciding whether the ball is safe to punt. To be fair to the student, he was forced to speculate because that was the question that was asked. It might not have been a fair question to ask in the first place (unless the paper was titled, “Hübmaier and the BFM: A Comparison of Free Church Perspectives on Real Presence in the Supper”). Sometimes questions must be answered simply because they are asked.

While it would be convenient to find a historical teacher quite similar to ourselves and thus validate our own position on the authority of heroes, we must remember the true value of historical theology. No theologian of the past is an authority for us beyond except where they agree with Scripture. However, when we find one who has a very similar starting point, that theologian can become an effective foil toward our own theological development. In the case of Hübmaier and the Baptists, the shared starting points include recognition of the authority of Scripture, and a free church composed of believers. Both Hübmaier and the Anabaptists should be understood for who they really were and then, listening to their voices, they can challenge our theology and thus lead us to growth. Perhaps that may only mean that we are confirmed in our positions, but the differences can force us to strengthen our arguments or alternately rebuke us in our error.

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[1]http://www.sbc.net/bfm/bfm2000.asp. This is the latest edition of the BFM from 2000. The wording is retained from the 1963 BFM while the 1925 BFM, reading that the Lord’s Supper “commemorate[s] the dying love of Christ.” The emphasis in the supper as memorializing Christ’s death is similar.

[2]H. Leon McBeth, The Baptist Heritage: Four Centuries of Baptist Witness (Nashville, Tennessee: Broadman, 1987), 81.

[3]One of the more recent of which is Brian Brewer, “A Response to Grace: The Sacramental Theology of Balthasar Hubmaier,” Ph.D. diss., Madison, New Jersey, Drew University, 2003, ch. 3.

[4]John Rempel, The Lord’s Supper in Anabaptism: A Study in the Christology of Balthasar Hubmaier, Pilgram Marpeck and Dirk Phillips, Studies in Anabaptist and Mennonite History, no. 33 (Scottdale, Pennsylvania: Herald, 1993), 53

[5] Ibid., 80.

[6]In H. Wayne Pipken and John Howard Yoder, eds., Balthasar Hubmaier: Theologian, Classics of the Radical Reformation Vol. 5 (Scottdale, Pennsylvania: Herald, 1989), 32. cf. Summa of the Entire Christian Life, in Balthasar Hubmaier, 87-88.

[7]A Simple Instruction, in Balthasar Hubmaier, 334. Rempel saw notes of that direction even earlier in Hübmaier’s writings, Lord’s Supper in Anabaptism, 55-56.

[8]Rempel’s contention that Hübmaier used of the purposefully ambiguous phrase “the body of Christ in remembrance” in order to bridge from the physical body to the church (Lord’s Supper in Anabaptism, 63) might be an overstatement. Rempel may have been reading back onto Hübmaier’s use of that phrase Hübmaier’s later development, effectively suggesting that what Hübmaier intended as an addition was really a replacement.

[9]Brewer, “Response to Grace,” 98.

[10]Allowing that Hübmaier’s opposition was not against Zwingli’s position per se but rather the arguments by which Zwingli arrived at that position, it is significant that Baptist seem to also follow Zwingli’s argumentation. Millard J. Erikson, for example, significantly used “signifies” to interpret “is” in the institutional words. Christian Theology, 2^nd ed. (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1998), 1129-1131.

[11]Hübmaier commented on this but this was not sufficiently developed to readily facilitate comparison.

[12]Simon Victor Goncharenko placed discipline in too important a role in Hübmaier’s theology by labeling it the “central” point (“The Importance of Church Discipline within Balthasar Hubmaier’s Theology.” Ph.D. diss., Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary, 2011, vi. See the earlier review on this site), but such overreaching would hardly be possible if discipline were not of great, if not central, importance. Brewer listed discipline among those ecclesiological activities he called “quasi-sacramental”, thus recognizing discipline’s importance near to the level of baptism and the Supper.

Review of Scholar, Pastor, Martyr: The Life and Ministry of Balthasar Hubmaier (ca. 1480-1528), by H Wayne Walker Pipkin

Pipkin, H Wayne Walker. Scholar, Pastor, Martyr: The Life and Ministry of Balthasar  Hubmaier (ca. 1480-1528). Prague: International Baptist Theological Seminary, 2008. x+118 pp. 250Kč (≈$13.50).

H Wayne Walker Pipkin’s 2006 lectures, given as the Hughey lectures of that year, are here published by the International Baptist Theological Seminary at which they were originally delivered. They form a brief biography according to the latest scholarship. Torsten Bergsten’s biography[1] remains the standard and Pipkin admittedly relied on Bergsten for the primary framework of his own endeavor (38n), but Pipkin’s work gives an overall update that is needed after the four decades following Bergsten’s biography.

The book begins by outlining Pipkin’s own journey, tracing many years of scholarship perhaps best embodied in his translation, co-edited with John Howard Yoder, of Hübmaier’s corpus.[2] The first chapter then outlined the history of scholarship on Hübmaier. That history included much of the recent scholarship that followed the English translation of Hübmaier’s works.

Particular attention was given to doctoral dissertations, an area that has burgeoned even more since these lectures were given. Among these, Pipkin felt that there was some promise but he also did not hold back in expressing his uneasiness toward dissertations coming from Southern Baptists. He saw that several of the students, whom he viewed as led by Emir Caner, tended to read back onto Hübmaier their own theological convictions and categories. While I agree with Pipkin insofar as I believe that Southern Baptist scholarship on Anabaptism and Hübmaier has neither yet reached its maturity nor escaped the context of contemporary denominational debates, I would not go so far as Pipkin in rejecting contemporary terminology in understanding historical theologies. Pipkin faulted Caner for using the terms “trichomy” and “dichotomy” in relation to Hübmaier (who was a trichotomist), since he viewed these terms as more relevant for fields like math or biology but not for the theology of a figure who himself had not used the terms (25). It seems as though Pipkin was revealing more of his own discomfort with that terminology rather than recognizing the usefulness of the terms in labeling Hübmaier’s thought. By the same reasoning, concepts like the trinity must also be thrown out of biblical theology since that word is not used in Scripture. Regardless of whether Hübmaier used the word, he still taught the concept. Also, Pipkin did not seem to have been aware that the interest in Hübmaier among Southern Baptists was not so much due to Caner as it has been to Paige Patterson, although Pipkin did recognize Patterson as Caner’s mentor. Following the dissertations, as was Pipkin’s tactic, in recent years would confirm that fact.

The biographical section reads quite pleasantly and Pipkin addresses topics that would not have been covered in Bergsten. Pipkin demonstrated facility beyond the theological concerns involved with Hübmaier. He gave fair play to the political situations that drove several of the steps in Hübmaier’s life. Two will give evidence to that here will be recounted since these are areas that seem to be less attended in some scholarship and because Pipkin makes a useful contribution in a book of limited distribution. I believe his book is only available directly from the seminary.

One is the political situation of Waldshut in relation to the Hapsburgs. The town sat directly across the river from Switzerland and had a tendency of identifying itself with the Swiss. As the reforms in Zürich gained momentum Waldshut sought inclusion into the influence of Zürich but the Hapsburgs did not want to lose Waldshut from Austrian hands. With Swiss independence having come 25 years earlier, Waldshut desired similar independence but Zürich could not risk the contention with Austria, thus forcing Zürich to distance themselves from any appearance of trying to annex the town (61-63). If Waldshut were to bring in the Reformation they would have to do so outside of the auspices of the Swiss.

Further alienation came from the Peasants’ War. As the anonymous “To the Assembly of the Common Peasantry” [3]makes clear, part of the peasants’ program was to reform German society in line with the economic changes that had taken place at the end of the fifteenth century in Switzerland. With Waldshut’s involvement in the uprisings Zwingli would have been pressured to dissociate himself from Hübmaier, Waldshut’s reformer, lest the Catholic cantons attack the reforms in Zürich as having spawned the rebellion (72-73). These two factors combined with differences in theology and hermeneutics helped lead to the contention between Hübmaier and Zwingli.

The book ends with an overview of Hübmaier’s theology that offers no substantially original insights but does give an introduction to his thought in the same clear prose as the biography. Two appendices round out the book: the first being a defense of Pipkin’s translation of Hübmaier’s epigram, “Die Wahrheit ist vntödlich,” and the second a revision of the previously translated Pledge of Love, revised for inclusion in contemporary incorporations into worship services of baptism. In the critical edition of Hübmaier’s works, Pipkin and Yoder translated the epigram differently. Yoder preferred to render “vntödlich” as “unkillable” while Pipkin, based on his survey of dictionaries from both the sixteenth century and from more modern times, rendered it “immortal.” This is not so much a change of meaning as much a change of emphasis. The most important support for Pipkin’s translation is Hübmaier’s own usage when writing in Latin, where he used “immortalis.”

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[1]Balthasar Hubmaier: Seine Stellung zu Reformation and Täufertum (Kassel: Oncken, 1961).; Balthasar Hubmaier: Anabaptist Theologian and Martyr, Translated and Edited by William Roscoe Estep (Valley Forge, Pennsylvania: Judson, 1978).

[2]Balthasar Hubmaier: Theologian of Anabaptism. Classics of the Radical Reformation, no. 5 (Scottdale, Pennsylvania: Herald, 1989).

[3]In Michael G. Baylor ed., The Radical Reformation, Cambridge Texts in the History of Political Thought (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), 101-129.

Review of The Radical Reformation, by Michael G. Baylor

Baylor, Michael G., ed. The Radical Reformation. Cambridge Texts in the History of Political Thought. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1991.

Michael Baylor’s The Radical Reformation is a source book covering similar territory as the previously reviewed book of his, The German Reformation and the Peasants’ War.[1] The structure is the same–a collection of source materials in translation preceded by an introduction referencing the following documents. The texts are new translation prepared specifically for this volume, although many of the works have been translated elsewhere.

Unlike The German Reformation and the Peasants’ War the texts are unabridged. The series in which this volume fits is political rather than theological. Therefore the primary representative of the Radical Reformation is Thomas Müntzer and the article representing the Peasants’ War more than the more theologically motivated movements in the Radical Reformation such as Anabaptism. Unlike The German Reformation and the Peasants’ War Baylor had in view also, even if only secondarily, Anabaptism’s social implications. These were represented by Michael Sattler, Balthasar Hübmaier, Hans Denck and others. Beyond the group of texts laying the political and theological groundwork for peasant dissent, Baylor included several programs of the peasants outlining their complaints and their vision for a new society.

Baylor’s interpretation of the political aspect of the Radical Reformation is one toward which I am quite sympathetic. Rather than taking an idealistic view that distances the Peasants’ War from the Radical Reformation, Baylor recognized that the Reformation “absorbed preexisting socio-economic grievances and political aspirations, and gained a revolutionary momentum” (xi). As such, the political upheaval was not an aberration of the theological movement of the Radical Reformation but rather was a push resulting from Luther’s reformation. The radicals did not want to limit reforming activities to the ecclesial realm. They wanted to include the social order within the purview of the Reformation (xii).

Baylor was careful not to formulate too overarching a theological system for the Radical Reformation, instead preferring to recognize the diversity of the movement. The greatest cohesiveness to the movement in Baylor’s opinion was its opposition to the magisterial reformers (xiv). He did make one step toward unifying the movement by writing that the radicals did not separate the “worldly” kingdom from the “spiritual” kingdom as had Luther (xviii). This allowed the radicals to attempt to reform in both the social in addition to the religious spheres. Baylor may have reached too far at this point. Although the Schleitheim Confession cannot be taken as normative for much beyond Swiss Anabaptism, that strand of Anabaptism did not fit Baylor’s mold.[2] Schleitheim Anabaptism sought to limits its reforming activity more to the spiritual kingdom by its teaching of separation. There were social implications of Schleitheim Anabaptism, but these implications were worked out within the orbit of the separated community, often times in the practice of community of goods.

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[1]Michael G. Baylor, The German Reformation and the Peasants’ War: A Brief History with Documents (Boston: Bedford St. Martins, 2012).

[2]It was the doctrine of two worlds that Robert Friedmann found to be the “deepest layer” of Anabaptist theology from which all other elements of the essence of Anabaptism were derived. “The Essence of Anabaptist Faith: An Essay in Interpretation,” MQR 41, no. 1 (Jan. 1967): 8-9.