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Church History Church History and and Religious Culture 98 (2018) 1–29 Religious Culture brill.com/chrc

More than Piety The Historiographic Neglect of Early Modern Lay Theology

Lucinda Martin Gotha Research Centre, University of Erfurt [email protected]

Abstract

Histories of Early Modern religion in Europe typically contrast the activities of ordained theologians with those of laity.The thought and writings of the former usually constitute “theology” and those of the latter “piety.” The result has long been a divided history. Confessional church historians have written histories that were essentially genealogies of (male) officer holders, while scholars of folklore, culture or literature analyzed the contributions of laity. Since the so-called cultural turn, the contributions of laity as organizers, transmitters and patrons of Early Modern religious movements are being recognized. What has been less studied are the intellectual achievements of laity, many of whom possessed deep knowledge of theology, history, and ancient languages and played important roles in Early Modern religious history. This article provides an overview of the main issues and the development of lay theology in the period and argues for increased study of the phenomenon.

Keywords devotional literature – Pietism – conventicles – Priesthood of All Believers – Invisible Church – heresy

I beg you not to mention my name among the learned […] I seek in this neither reputation nor fame, rather Christ is my fame and my reward. jacob böhme1 ∵

1 Theology versus Piety

An autodidact who began as a shoemaker, Jacob Böhme (1575–1624) would become one of the most influential German authors internationally. Böhme hailed from Görlitz, in the seventeenth century a bustling town situated on a major trading route. Görlitz had a respected Gymnasium and there was an active intellectual community that the innately curious Böhme was evidently able to tap. Soon he was corresponding with a network of religious reformers, alchemists, astrologers, and other thinkers from Lübeck to Vilnius.2 Böhme’s overarching goal was to reconcile religion and natural philosophy in one eclectic, yet coherent system. Toward this end, he composed a corpus of writings that have fascinated readers since his own time and have made an impact on disciplines as diverse as philosophy, religion, art, and literature.Yethe has never received scholarly attention commensurate to his influence. Elsewhere I have written about the historiographical suppression of lay philosophy and theology, especially in regards to Böhme.3 He was neither an ordained theologian, nor a

1 Unless otherwise stated, all translations in this article are mine. Here the original German: “[Endlich] bitte ich, meines Namens bey den Gelehrten zu schweigen […] Ich suche mir damit keinen Namen noch Ruhm, sondern Christus ist mein Ruhm und mein Lohn.” In a letter from Böhme to Abraham von Sommerfeld (1620), printed in: Jacob Böhme, Theosophische Send- briefe: in Theosophia Revelata: Alle göttliche Schriften des Gottseligen und Hocherleuchteten Deutschen Theosophi Jacob Böhmens […], ed. JohannWilhelm Überfeld (n.pl.: n.pub., 1730), here: chap. 10, §34 (37–38). 2 On Böhme’s letters, see Leigh Penman’s recent pathbreaking article which lists other sources on Böhme’s networks, “The Broken Tradition: Uncovering Errors in the Correspondence of Jacob Böhme,” Aries: Journal for the Study of Western Esotericism 18 (2018), 96–125. 3 Lucinda Martin, “Jacob Böhme at University: The Historiographic Exile of a Seventeenth- Century Philosopher,” Aries: Journal for the Study of Western Esotericism 18 (2018), 3–20, esp. 10–15.

Church History and ReligiousDownloaded Culture from Brill.com09/26/2021 98 (2018) 1–29 12:09:05AM via free access more than piety 3 university-educated philosopher and despite his great cultural significance has therefore not been an interesting object of study for historians of theology and philosophy. He fell, so to speak, between the disciplinary cracks. Histories of Early Modern religion in Europe typically contrast the activities of ordained theologians with those of laity. The thought and writings of the former usually constitute “theology,” while those of the latter are understood as “piety.” The result has long been a divided history. Confessional church historians have written histories that were essentially genealogies of (male) officer holders, while scholars of folklore, culture, or literature have analyzed the contributions of laity. Since the so-called cultural turn in the humanities, most histories now include discussions of the activities of lay religious reformers, although often in a separate section including topics such as “Social Life,” “Women,” or “Piety and Prayer.”4 The contributions of laity as organizers, transmitters, and patrons of Early Modern religious movements are now beginning to be recognized. Yet historians still do not pay enough attention to the substantial intellectual achievements of lay theologians, many of whom possessed deep knowledge of theology, history, and ancient languages as well as other disciplines and who influenced the development of religious and cultural history. In fact, Protestantism has an impressive tradition of lay theologians. Martin Jung has pointed out that leading figures of the Reformation such as Zwingli and Melanchthon did not study theology at university. Jung further identifies as lay theologians a series of profound religious thinkers: Caspar Schwenckfeld von Ossig (1489–1561), Menno Simons (1496–1561), Katharina Zell (1497/98– 1562), Jacob Böhme, Nikolaus Ludwig Count Zinzendorf (1700–1760), and Ger- hardTersteegen (1697–1769).5This issue of Church History and Religious Culture

4 I take these examples from the 4-volume history of Pietism produced by the Historical Commission for the Study of Pietism. The first three volumes outline a chronological and geographical history of a primarily Lutheran inner-church movement, while a fourth volume includes essays on aspects such as “Soziales,” “Frauen,” and “Frömmigkeit und Gebet.” Geschichte des Pietismus, ed. Martin Brecht, et al., (Göttingen, 1993–2004), Vol. 4, “Glaubens- welt und Lebenswelten” ed. Hartmut Lehmann, 2003. 5 Martin Jung, Nachfolger,Visionärinnen, Kirchenkritiker, (Leipzig, 2003), 59–63, here 60–61. On Zell, see Jung, “Katharina Zell geb. Schütz (1497/98–1562): Eine Laientheologin der Reforma- tionszeit?” in Jung, Nonnen, Prophetinnen, Kirchenmütter, (Leipzig, 2002), 121–168. English- language scholars have understood Pietism as something more international and more diverse than most continental historians have and thus integrate the stories of laity: Cf. Douglas H. Shantz, An Introduction to German Pietism: Protestant Renewal at the Dawn of Modern Europe, (Baltimore, 2013); William Reginald Ward, The Protestant Evangelical Awakening, (Cambridge, 2002 [1992]). Carter Lindberg goes so far as to call some laity, including women,

Church History and Religious Culture 98 (2018) 1–29Downloaded from Brill.com09/26/2021 12:09:05AM via free access 4 martin attests that this list could be greatly expanded. The present article problema- tizes the traditional historiographic division between professional theology and lay piety by surveying the main issues and development of lay theology in the Early Modern period, especially in Germany. The following four articles focus on case studies in Dutch and German territories to show that events on the ground were far more complex than the simple duality “theology” versus “piety” expresses.

2 The Literary Roots of Lay Theology

Although it has ancient roots, Early Modern lay theology is a direct descendant of the Protestant Reformation. The doctrine of sola Scriptura demanded that believers be given the keys to their own salvation. Reformers thus sought to place the Bible in the hands of laity, but thought that clergy would continue to be responsible for interpreting Scripture. Once given access to inexpensive Bibles in vernacular languages, laity not only read voraciously, but also drew their own conclusions about possible meanings of Scripture. Soon reformers urged laity not just to read the Bible, but to carry out home worship services. To aid laity in their private devotions, theologians developed new genres of religious literature. The sixteenth and seventeenth centuries saw an explosion of new religious publications to meet the needs of laity. Hymnals for home use (Hausgesangbücher) and “home worship books” (Hausandachts- bücher) that included short readings, songs, and biblical interpretations helped laity to perform services in their own homes. Many theologians also published their collected sermons for laity to study and to read aloud for home use. Although the authors of devotional texts clearly still privileged the institutional church and saw these publications as a support, not a replacement, for church services, there was nonetheless a pervasive sense that such publications were necessary because of the wretched state of both church and society. Philipp Nicolai (1556–1608) refers to the “misery” of the period, and Johann Arndt (1555–1621) states that it was “Godlessness” that motivated him to write his “Books of True Christianity.”6 Martin Moller (1547–1606) criticizes pastors

“theologians”: The PietistTheologians: An Introduction toTheology in the Seventeenth and Eigh- teenth Centuries, ed. Carter Lindberg, (Malden, Mass, 2005). 6 For example, written after the plague in Unna in Westphalia: Philipp Nicolai, FrewdenSpiegel deß ewigen Lebens. Das ist: Gründtliche Beschreibung deß herrlichen Wesens im ewigen Leben […] Allen betrübten Christen / so in diesem Jammerthal / das Elendt auff mancherley Wege bauwen müssen / zu seligem und lebendigem Trost zusammen gefasset […] (Frankfurt a.M.:

Church History and ReligiousDownloaded Culture from Brill.com09/26/2021 98 (2018) 1–29 12:09:05AM via free access more than piety 5 who are mostly concerned with theological polemics and castigates parish- ioners who rely on God’s grace to lead sinful lives, since they are assured of salvation regardless of their behavior.7 Such comments are ubiquitous in devotional literature of the period and have led historians to speak of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries as a time marked by crisis, although these scholars conceive of different kinds of crisis—a “general crisis,” a “crisis of piety,” and “a crisis of the church” among others.8 While they disagree about the causes, most historians confirm that the era’s devotional authors were trying to address some kind of crisis with religious literature aimed at a lay audience.The authors of devotional texts admitted that church services alone were insufficient to heal the world.9 They hoped that private Bible study and worship would spark an improvement in individuals and, in turn, church and society. They thus set out to deputize the laity to carry out lay pastoral work. This is borne out by so-called death manuals, which were meant to help souls prepare for death. These books were some of the most popular Early Modern publications. In the preface to his own “Art of Dying” (“Sterbekunst”), Martin Moller asked: “How often does it happen that someone finds himself in a foreign land where he can find no proper preacher? […] that during a time of the plague no minister is present because they have all died [and] […] that some have thirsted for teaching, comfort and instruction? […] Then he can give himself comfort or through others around him who can read from this simple little book.”10 This comment points to the dire circumstances

Johann Spies, 1599). Available on-line: http://daten.digitale‑sammlungen.de/; Johann Arndt, Sechs Bücher Vom Wahren Christenthum; Nebst desselben Paradies-Gärtlein […]. Vol. 1. (Magdeburg: print. Joachim Böck / pub. Johan Francke, 1610), 2: “Solch gottlos Wesen hat mir zu diesem Büchlein Ursach geben” (Available on-line at: http://www .deutschestextarchiv.de/). 7 “Tut es allein die Gnade Jesu Christi, daß ich selig werde, so will ich tun, was mich gelüstet.” (Cited in Martin Brecht, “Neue Frömmigkeit und Gemeindesituation bei Martin Moller,” in Krisenbewußtsein und Krisenbewältigung in der Frühen Neuzeit: Crisis in Early Modern Europe, eds. Monika Hagenmaier and Sabine Holtz, (Frankfurt a.M., 1992), 217–230, here 228). 8 For a review of these crisis theories, see Lucinda Martin, “Martin Moller and the ‘Crisis of Piety’ of Jacob Böhme’sTime,” in Jacob Böhme’sWorld, eds. Bo Andersson, Lucinda Martin, Leigh Penman, and Andrew Weeks (Leiden, 2018 [in press]). 9 Udo Sträter thus refers to a “crisis of the sermon” and a “crisis of the church.” Udo Sträter, Meditation und Kirchenreform in der lutherischen Kirche des 17. Jahrhunderts (Tübingen, 1995), 30–33. 10 Martin Moller, manuale de praeparatione ad mortem, Heilsame und sehr nützliche Betrachtung /Wie ein Mensch Christlich leben / und seliglich sterben sol […] (Jena: pub. Esa-

Church History and Religious Culture 98 (2018) 1–29Downloaded from Brill.com09/26/2021 12:09:05AM via free access 6 martin in which many found themselves—disease, hunger, and war were common in the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries. Yet Moller’s remark also reveals the conviction that the church was not equipped to meet all of the needs of laity—needs that theologians themselves seemed to think that laity could address on their own with the assistance of devotional literature. There was some limited opposition to the wave of religious literature. Some feared it could replace the Bible or even the church itself. Indeed, the reading of all kinds of new literature did begin to undermine the authority of Scripture. Writings revealing new discoveries in archeology and world history seemed to refute the accepted biblical timeline. The astronomical studies of Nicolaus Copernicus (1473–1543) revealed that the sun, not the earth, was at the center of “the world.” Martin Luther (1483–1546) refused to accept the heliocentric worldview, but a century later the lay thinker Jacob Böhme put forth that the new science had to be correct—the conflict with older assumptions simply proved that humans had not understood the Bible correctly. Throughout the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, such controversies raged as laity became more and more knowledgeable in a range of fields. Many of the debates centered on language. Particularly in the seventeenth century, there was a push for laity, not just theologians, to learn to read Scriptures in the ancient biblical languages. With their new knowledge of Greek and Hebrew, laity discovered alternative interpretations for Scripture and even errors in biblical translations. Increas- ingly, laity were no longer willing to cede the realm of Scriptural interpretation to professional theologians. Laity could justifiably argue that they were just as inspired, as righteous—and as educated—as clergy.

3 Conventicles: Lay Theology as “True Christianity”

At the same time as publications for lay worship were burgeoning, so too were new religious societies and reading circles. There has been more research on the societies of the age of Enlightenment, but these later associations have their roots in sixteenth and seventeenth-century groups that wanted to reform the world through alliances of committed Christians.11 Such groups

iae Fellgibels / print. Samuel Krebsen, 1662 [Görlitz, 1593]), e iiii (v). Moller penned eleven works, but three of his devotional texts, among them the Sterbekunst, went into at least 42 editions each, and translations into Latin and other European languages proliferated. 11 Cf. Sozietäten, Netzwerke, Kommunikation: Neue Forschungen zur Vergesellschaftung im Jahrhundert der Aufklärung, eds. Holger Zaunstock and Markus Meumann, (Tübingen, 2003).

Church History and ReligiousDownloaded Culture from Brill.com09/26/2021 98 (2018) 1–29 12:09:05AM via free access more than piety 7 were often project oriented and had a Christian humanist background. They brought together highly educated individuals who thought that the pious and erudite should lead society in progress and moral improvement. In a case study of the society landscape in Nuremberg in the seventeenth century, Richard van Dülmen has shown in exemplary fashion how different interests could be employed in such societies, be it an interest in astronomy, religion or the promotion of the German language.12 Significantly, many individuals belonged to multiple groups and combined knowledge from different fields. Among seventeenth century societies, the most attention has been paid to Pietist conventicles, which historians have typically divided into “church” conventicles that were instituted and led by pastors, and “radical” conventicles or “sects” that were not church approved.13 These exclusive typological divisions have largely been debunked.14While confessional historians have a vested interest in differentiating between “legitimate” church-approved groups and others, the fact is that individuals often participated both in churchly groups and in groups in private homes and saw no conflict in doing so. A particular person might have attended church services on Sunday morning, a pastor-led Bible study on Sunday evening and a reading circle for spiritualist literature at a private home during the week. As in the case of devotional literature, theologians wanted to use conventicles to activate the laity, but only within certain bounds. The Frankfurt senior pastor Philipp Jakob Spener (1635–1705), considered the founder of German Pietism, is remembered above all for establishing conventicles, yet he was initially opposed to the gatherings.15 Spener’s friend Ahasver Fritsch (1629–1701) was a prolific devotional author, despite being a jurist and not a university- educated theologian. Fritsch called repeatedly in his publications for the establishment of private devotional circles to remedy the ills of church and society. In his correspondence with Fritsch, Spener warned against private religious

12 Richard van Dülmen, “Sozietätsbildungen in Nürnberg im 17. Jahrhundert,” in Gesellschaft und Herrschaft: Forschungen zu sozial- und landesgeschichtlichen Problemen vornehmlich in Bayern, ed. van Dülmen, (Munich, 1969), 153–190. 13 Cf. Irina Modrow, “Die sozial-religiösen Gruppenbildungen des Frühpietismus—eine Variante von Vorformen des modernen Assoziationwesens?” in Geselligkeit und Gesell- schaft im Barockzeitalter, Vol. 1., ed. Wolfgang Adam, (Wiesbaden, 1997), 309–320. 14 Cf. Konfessionelle Ambiguität: Uneindeutigkeit und Verstellung als religiöse Praxis in der Frühen Neuzeit, eds., Andreas Pietsch and Barbara Stollberg-Rilinger, (Gütersloh, 2013). 15 Johannes Wallmann, Philipp Jakob Spener und die Anfänge des Pietismus. 2 ed., (Tübingen, 1986), 276ff.

Church History and Religious Culture 98 (2018) 1–29Downloaded from Brill.com09/26/2021 12:09:05AM via free access 8 martin associations, because he thought they might compete with the church.16 In 1676 Fritsch nonetheless founded a “New Spiritual Fruit Bearing Jesus Soci- ety” (Neue geistlich-fruchtbringende Jesus-Gesellschaft).17 The group was tiny, but was widely discussed and may have served as a model for other groups. The name of this “Fruit Bearing Society” hints at structural parallels to the famous Weimar literary society of the same period, the Fruchtbringende Gesellschaft. In both cases, a learned membership hoped to improve the world and both adopted similar observances—secret names, a symbol for each member and so forth. The same issues surrounding conventicles that Spener and Fritsch had discussed in their personal correspondence soon burst into the public sphere in a series of polemical writings by numerous authors arguing for and against the new religious societies that were sprouting up all over the German territories. Opponents feared that an interest in ethical living might replace the Lutheran doctrine of justification through grace, and more generally, they feared “errors,” that is, theological opinions that might differ from church dogma. Critics argued that the meetings were illegitimate when not under church supervision.18 These authors reminded readers that the 1648 Treaty of Westphalia, ending the Thirty Years War, had made provisions for three legal confessions— Catholic, Lutheran, and Reformed—from which rulers could choose. Other religious communities constituted “sects” and were strictly forbidden. Spener, however, soon became a staunch defender of conventicles supervised by pastors, because he thought they had the potential to enliven the church. Spener argued that the gatherings were simply following the example of the primitive Church. Had not the first Christians met in small groups to learn and to support one another in spiritual matters? In his programmatic Pia Desideria, Spener quoted the apostle Paul in iCorinthians 14 to argue that teaching was not just a matter for one person, but for all Christians with tal- ent and knowledge.19 One of the most discussed defenses of conventicles was

16 Philipp Jakob Spener, Briefe aus der Frankfurter Zeit, eds. Johannes Wallmann, et al., (Tübingen, 1992–ongoing). Here: Vol. 2 (1996), 35f.; Vol. 3 (2000), 43f., 120f., 279–281. 17 The exact name of the society has varied in scholarship. Part of the confusion seems to be that over the years Fritsch had suggested ideas for yet other religious societies. Ernst Koch was able to ascertain the correct name in his study of the group: Ernst Koch, “Die ‘Neue geistlich-fruchtbringende Jesus-Gesellschaft’ in Rudolstadt,” Pietismus und Neuzeit 31 (2005) 21–59. 18 Claudia Tietz, Johann Winckler (1642–1705): Anfänge eines lutherischen Pietisten (Göttin- gen, 2008), 197. 19 Philipp Jakob Spener, Umkehr in die Zukunft: Reformprogramm des Pietismus—Pia

Church History and ReligiousDownloaded Culture from Brill.com09/26/2021 98 (2018) 1–29 12:09:05AM via free access more than piety 9 penned by the jurist, court official, and alchemical dabbler Wilhelm Christoph Kriegsmann (1633–1679). In his tract Symphonesis Christianorum, he argued that both churchly congregations and private ones were grounded in Scrip- ture.20 The church was necessary for the proclamation of the gospel and the administration of sacraments (Matt 23), but Christ Himself had called for small gatherings to praise God, to learn, to pray, and to support one another (Matt 18). Although Kriegsmann emphasized the importance of both ecclesiastical and private forms, he nonetheless referred to the shortcomings of the church, which he hoped would be addressed by private conventicles. According to Kriegsmann, in the era of the early Church, laity had gathered to read Scripture and it was only later that an institutional church took away this right, reserving it for professional theologians and office holders. With the early Church as their model, conventicles quickly came to rep- resent the original form of Christianity, before a corrupt—it goes without saying, Roman,—church administration had adulterated it. Lay theology was thus “true Christianity.” This discourse echoed Early Modern devotional literature, especially Johann Arndt’s popular “Books of True Christianity.” In these works, “true Christianity” had two main characteristics—an emphasis on inner, spiritual change and an outer, active Christianity in the form of charitable work. Not only Arndt, but a series of devotional authors including Philipp Nicolai, Martin Moller and others had argued for a combination of inner, mystical change, achieved through traditional Christian contemplation, and outer deeds to enact Christianity in the world. While these writers were mostly Lutheran theologians, they relied on—and offered new translations of—medi- eval works by Meister Eckhart, Johannes Tauler, Bernhard of Clairvaux, and Thomas à Kempis. They also drew on hermetic and spiritualist sources. Tellingly, Arndt—the most influential of the devotional authors—had not studied theology, but Paracelsian medicine.21 Arndt and other devotional

Desideria, ed. Erich Beyreuther, (Berlin, 1988), 72. In his letters, Spener would cite yet other biblical passages that he believed supported the establishment of conventicles: Rom 15:14; Eph 5:19, Col 3:16; 1Thess 4:18 and 5:14 and Heb 3:12 and 10:24f. Spener, Briefe, Vol. 1 (1992), 324–329. 20 Wilhelm Christoph Kriegsmann, Symphonesis Christianorum oder Traktat von den einzel- nen und Privat-Zusammenkünften der Christen: Welche Christus neben den Gemeinen oder Kirchlichen Versammlungen zu halten eingesetzt, (Leipzig: Heinichen, 1689 [1677]). The text is dedicated to Ahasver Fritsch and was approved by Spener. Cf. Tietz, Winckler (see above, n. 18), 201. 21 Hermann Geyer, Verborgene Weisheit: Johann Arndts “Vier Bücher vom Wahren Christen- tum” als Programm einer spiritualistisch-hermetischen Theologie, 3 vols., (Berlin, 2001).

Church History and Religious Culture 98 (2018) 1–29Downloaded from Brill.com09/26/2021 12:09:05AM via free access 10 martin authors contrasted true “inner” Christianity with an artificial “outer” Chris- tianity. Church critical spiritualist authors such as Valentin Weigel (1533–1588), Sebastian Franck (1499–1542), and Jacob Böhme developed this discourse further.22 Böhme attended church his entire life, but contrasted the “church of walls” with the true church of the heart, maintaining that a Christian carries the true church with him into the congregation.23 Christian Hoburg (1607–1675) went even beyond this, claiming that the Lutheran Church’s many abuses dele- gitimized it.24 Church critics in the following generations quoted his writings to justify alternatives. The spiritualist contribution to the development of conventicles was social as well as literary. Long before Spener and Fritsch had begun to argue about conventicles, circles of Paracelsians, Böhmists, and Rosicrucians were meeting to read and discuss Scripture and other texts. These reading circles usually had to meet in secret because church authorities and rulers labeled them “heretics.” To avoid censors, writings circulated among group members in manuscript form. These circles often had an elite understanding of themselves as chosen by God to reform the world and they conceived of utopian plans to do so. Indeed, before he became involved in defending conventicles, Wilhelm Christoph Kriegsmann had participated in a circle at the court of Hesse-Darm- stadt that read alchemical, hermetic, and theosophical literature.25 Such circles combined the new natural philosophy with biblical interpretation and religion in a variety of ways. In his writings, Kriegsmann connected occult, hermetic interests and his Pietist interests through the medium of a cabala sancta, or an ancient Hebrew wisdom that he believed to underlie ancient hermetic texts as well as the Pietist innovations of his time.26 Still other early Pietists believed that inner, spiritual changes were homologous to chemical changes in nature.

22 Kristine Hannak, Geist = Reiche Critik: Hermetik, Mystik und das Werden der Aufklärung in Spiritualistischer Literatur der Frühen Neuzeit, (Berlin/Boston, 2013). 23 “Ein rechter Christ bringet seine heilige Kirche mit in die Gemeinde. Sein Herz ist die wahre Kirche.” Jacob Böhme, “Von der neuen Wiedergeburt,” in Weg zu Christo [Book iv], (6,16) [1624], in Sämtliche Schriften. Faksimile-Neudruck der Ausgabe von 1730 in elf Bänden, ed. Will-Erich Peuckert, (Stuttgart, 1955-ongoing). 24 Elias Praetorius [= Christian Hoburg], Spiegel der Misbräuche beim Pregig-Ampt […], (n.pl.: n.pub., [1644]); Christian Hoburg, Der unbekandte Christus […], (Amsterdam: Velsen, 1669). 25 Cf. Tietz, Winckler (see above, n. 18), 186ff. 26 The best overview of Kriegsmann’s thought is: Mike A. Zuber, “Between Alchemy and Pietism: Wilhelm Christoph Kriegsmann’s Philological Quest for Ancient Wisdom,” Correspondences 2.1 (2014) 67–104, esp. 94ff.

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By studying alchemy, one could better understand God and make spiritual progress. Alternatively, by studying Scripture one could gain insight into the mysteries of nature. In this way, natural birth and spiritual “rebirth” were parallel processes.27 In short, conventicles took a wide variety of forms and pursued varied interests, from the purely biblical to the scientific to the esoteric. Some existed to glorify God, others to read Scripture, and yet others to minister to the poor. A full discussion of the debates surrounding private religious circles would go beyond the bounds of this article, but a glance at some of the literature can provide insight into the stakes. At the request of church officials and rulers, the Darmstadt court theologian, Balthasar Mentzer ii(1614–1679), wrote a response to Kriegsmann’s lay defense of conventicles.28 Mentzer found nothing in either the Bible or church history to justify “simple unlearned people” (einfältige unge- lährte Leut) replacing clergy.29 Mentzer criticized above all the heterodoxy of conventicles, which he attributed to certain polluting influences: English Puri- tanism, Dutch Reformed religion (especially Gisbert Voetius’s writings); mys- tics like Kempen and Tauler, spiritualist authors like Valentin Weigel (including through the filter of Arndt), and “separatists” among whom he included the church critic Christian Hoburg, Jean de Labadie (1610–1674), Rosicrucians, and Mennonites. Mentzer singled out the doctrine of rebirth (Wiedergeburt) as especially troubling, because it displaces both the Lutheran doctrine of grace and the role of clergy as a necessary medium for salvation, since rebirth occurs not through churchly sacraments but through the individual’s inner, spiritual transformation. For opponents of conventicles as well as advocates, the doctrine of the Priesthood of All Believers was key. The biblical basis of the doctrine was not in question (1Peter 2:9): Spreading the gospel (Rom 15:16), praying for others (1Tim 2), mutual admonishment and support (Col 3:16; Gal 6:1f.), and acts of love (1Cor 13: Gal 5) were all core Christian activities. Nonetheless, different authors understood the doctrine in different ways. Mentzer admitted that Martin Luther had advocated a general priesthood of all baptized believers in the form of brotherly discussion, but maintained that Luther never meant this

27 Cf. Mike A. Zuber, Spiritual Alchemy from the Age of Jacob Boehme to Mary Anne Atwood, 1600–1900, (PhD thesis, University of Amsterdam, 2017). 28 The work began circulating in manuscript form at the turn of 1677/1678 and was only published in 1691. Balthasar Mentzer, Kurtzes Bedenken/ von den Eintzelen Zusammenkunfften/ Wie dieselbe etlicher Orten wollen behauptet werden […], (Giessen: Müller, 1691). Cf. Tietz, Winckler (see above, n. 18), 209ff. 29 Mentzer, Kurtzes Bedenken (see above, n. 28), 14; 21.

Church History and Religious Culture 98 (2018) 1–29Downloaded from Brill.com09/26/2021 12:09:05AM via free access 12 martin activity to crystallize into special groups.30 Both sides of the debate could cite Luther, who had stated that every Christian was a theologian and that no Chris- tian was more blessed than the next.31Yetin his late writings, Luther was careful to differentiate between public and private activities—clergy were to act publicly and laity privately. For Luther, private meant primarily in the home among family members, although he also referred to mutua consolatio fratrum. How- ever, seventeenth-century writings defending conventicles stretched “private” to include large gatherings of friends and associates. In his tract, “The Spiritual Priesthood” (Das Geistliche Priesterthum, 1677), Philipp Jacob Spener emphasized that with the assistance of the Holy Spirit laity should read and interpret Scripture.32 In yet other tracts defending conventicles, the theologian Johann Winckler (1642–1705) underscored to a much greater extent common pastoral care among laity.33 He expressly advocated the participation of women and the unlearned in these Christian practices.34 Importantly, both Spener and Winck- ler stressed that the laity has the responsibility to check the correctness of the clergy’s teachings—a stance that, at least rhetorically, inverted traditional authority in questions of dogma.35 These different understandings about correct practice in conventicles led to strange tensions, both between conventicles and within them. On the one hand, hierarchies were less important in private meetings than in the established churches. Regardless of educational background or social rank, men and women alike could take their turn at interpreting Scripture. Yet even as conventicles leveled some hierarchies, they created others. Many of those involved

30 Luther explicated the doctrine in An den christlichen Adel teütscher Nation […] (Straßburg: Martin Flach, 1520) and De instituendis ministris Ecclesiae […] (Wittenberg: Lucas Cranach and Christina Döring, 1523). 31 “[O]mnes sumus Theologi, heisst ein iglicher Christ. […] Omnes dicimur Theologi, ut omnes Christiani, ist keiner fur [= vor] den ander hoher geweicht [= geweiht].” Cited in Jung, Nachfolger (see above, n. 5), 61. 32 Philipp Jakob Spener, Das Geistliche Priesterthum […], (Frankfurt: Zunner, 1677), 27–53, 71f. 33 Winckler’s first major publication on the subject emphasized practical aspects, but as late as 1690 he could still argue that a pastor cannot meet the needs of all of his parish- ioners and is therefore reliant on the support of lay pastors: Bedencken über Hrn. Wilhelm Christoph Kriegsmanns also genannte Symphonesin, (Hanau: Scheffer, 1679); idem,Wohlge- meintes Send-Schreiben an […] Hn. Philippum Ludovicum Hannekenium […] Betreffende die so genandte Collegia Pietatis, (n.pl.: n.pub., 1690), 146f. Cf. Tietz, who discusses yet other authors’ opinions (Winckler [see above, n. 18], 245–254). 34 Winckler, Bedencken (see above, n. 33), 24–28, 33f., 36, 50, 65, 85, 127–131, 136. 35 Spener, Priesterthum (see above, n. 31), 27–53, 71f. Winckler, Bedencken (see above, n. 33), 141f.

Church History and ReligiousDownloaded Culture from Brill.com09/26/2021 98 (2018) 1–29 12:09:05AM via free access more than piety 13 perceived themselves as elite. They were the “committed” (entschiedene) Chris- tians or even “the chosen” (auserwählt), who had a special role to play in reforming the world at God’s behest.36 Not surprisingly, some of the greatest tensions emerged between conventicles sponsored by churches and those that were not.

4 Theology as Promiscuity: Female Lay Theologians

The greatest strength of conventicles was also their greatest weakness: Individ- uals could take on an active role in theological matters regardless of their social rank, but the mixing of people from different estates and, in particular, different sexes brought ill repute upon the groups. Eventually scandalous rumors led to legal crackdowns of many conventicles. In the Early Modern period, women were expected to remain in the private sphere, “protected” from men, and especially from men of lower social ranks. These expectations about “honor” arose from the need to control women’s bodies as a way to control inheritance (men’s property). People in general understood women’s public activity as a breach of chastity. For this reason, female authors usually published their writings under male pseudonyms or anonymously. The few women who dared publish under their own names had to endure attacks not just on their writings, but also on their character. They were accused of promiscuity and of neglecting their fami- lies. Too much learning by women was blamed for a range of ills, from women’s lack of obedience to indecent behavior. It was even claimed that too much knowledge could damage women’s smaller brains. Yet, within the private sphere of the home, the Reformation had essentially made women into lay theologians. In contradiction to the injunction that women not learn, Protestant reformers charged mothers with the religious education of children and servants, thus providing the justification for women’s education. Women led households in reading Scripture, in prayer, and in home worship services. Bible and devotional reading were also two of the few accept- able pastimes for women. Their traditional role in overseeing religion in the domestic sphere easily grew into women’s hosting and leadership of conventicles and reading circles, where friends and neighbors could join in these activities.

36 On psychological aspects of conventicles, see Ryoko Mori, Begeisterung und Ernüchterung in christlicher Vollkommenheit: Pietistische Selbst- und Weltwahrnehmungen im ausgehen- den 17. Jahrhundert, (Tübingen, 2004).

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What is more, many women of the aristocratic or patrician estates received remarkable private educations preparing them for these activities. Their tutors concentrated heavily on religious subjects, which were seen as “fitting” for women’s educations. Especially in the seventeenth century, there was a push to learn the original biblical languages to better understand and interpret Scripture, and this interest extended to women, some of whom became highly proficient in Greek, Hebrew, and other languages. Her remarkable linguistic achievements, especially in Latin, helped Anna Maria van Schurman (1607–1678) to become one of the most influential lay theologians of the era. She was one of the very few women in the Early Modern era to study at a university. The Calvinist professor Gisbert Voetius (1589–1676) had allowed her to listen to his lectures secretly from within a kind of mesh booth to avoid “offending” male students.37 Schurman studied mathematics, physics, geography, and philosophy but concentrated on theology and ancient languages. Her linguistic proficiency made her famous, as did her widely discussed thesis on the question, “Whether a Christian Woman Should be Edu- cated.”38 In 1669 Schurman renounced higher learning in general and joined Jean de Labadie’s “wandering congregation” (Wandergemeinde). In a second much discussed text, her “The Good Choice” (Eukleria), Schurman explained her reasons for joining the utopian Labadists.39The title for the text comes from the biblical story of Jesus’ visit with Mary and Martha (Luke 10:38–42). Mary lis- tens attentively to Jesus’ teaching, while Martha cleans the house and cooks a meal. Schurman highlights that Jesus calls Mary’s decision to listen rather than do housework “the good choice.” The text spurred discussion about women’s proper roles (not least because of Schurman’s excellent Latin) and helped to

37 In 1636 Schurman was asked to write a poem celebrating the establishment of the Univer- sity of Utrecht. In the poem she called attention to women’s exclusion from the university. Cf. Pieta van Beek, The First Female University Student: Anna Maria van Schurman (1636), (Utrecht, 2010). 38 Anna Maria van Schurman, Amica dissertatio inter Annam Mariam Schurmanniam et Andr. Rivetum de capacitate ingenii muliebris ad scientias, (Paris: n.pub., 1638). For the English translation, seeWhetheraChristianWomanShouldbeEducatedandOtherWritings from Her Intellectual Circle, ed. Joyce L. Irwin, (Chicago, 1998). 39 Anna Maria van Schurman, Ευκληρία Seu Melioris Partis Electio, (Altona: Meulen, 1673) and Ευκληρία Seu Melioris Partis Electio, Pars Secunda, Historiam vitae ejus usque ad mortem persequens, (Amsterdam: Jacob van de Velde, 1685). Cf. Barbara Becker-Cantarino, “Reli- giöse Selbstsuche und Organisatorin der Gemeinde: Anna van Schurman, Eleonore Petersen und Erdmuthe von Zinzendorf,” in Der lange Weg zur Mündigkeit: Frau und Liter- atur (1500–1800), Barbara Becker-Cantarino, ed., (Stuttgart, 1987), 110–130, here 117.

Church History and ReligiousDownloaded Culture from Brill.com09/26/2021 98 (2018) 1–29 12:09:05AM via free access more than piety 15 spread the Labadists’ idea of the “house church.”40 Schurman corresponded about her ideas with the reform-minded across Europe, including Johann Jakob Schütz (1640–1690) and Johanna Eleonora Merlau (1644–1724), for whom she likely served as a role model. Schütz and Merlau were friends of Philipp Jakob Spener, the senior pastor who established a churchly conventicle in Frankfurt. As mentioned above, Spener was initially skeptical, but he later became convinced of the importance of cells of committed Christians for renewing the church. He nonetheless stressed that these should remain under the supervision of clergy to guarantee doctrinal and social correctness. Since 1670 he had been leading a group of men in reading devotional literature, but around 1674 the group began to study the Bible. To avoid criticisms that they were exclusionary, they opened the meetings to the public.41With the participation of men and women of different social ranks, rumors swirled of lewd and improper behavior. Some in Frankfurt claimed that Spener was teaching housemaids to read Greek and that these servants were then refusing to do their chores. To counter the rumors, Spener kept women such as Merlau shielded from other participants behind a curtain and they were not allowed to speak.42 Before long, many of Spener’s own friends and associates were participating in a private conventicle in Frankfurt hosted by two women, Johanna Eleonora Merlau and Maria Juliane Baur von Eyseneck (1641–1684) and led primarily by Merlau and Johann Jakob Schütz.43 It is unclear just how much the so-called Saalhof conventicle modelled their activities after Labadists and how much after Spener’s conventicles or other groups. What is certain is that many people

40 Mirjam de Baar, “Internationale und interkonfessionelle Netzwerke: Zur frühen lutherisch pietistischen Rezeption von Anna Maria van Schurman und Antoinette Bourignon,” in Gendering Tradition: Erinnerungskultur und Geschlecht im Pietismus, eds. Ulrike Gleixner and Erika Hebeisen, (Korb, 2007), 85–101, here: 90–99; Johannes Wallmann: “Labadismus und Pietismus,” in Theologie und Frömmigkeit im Zeitalter des Barock, ed. Wallmann, (Tü- bingen, 1995), 171–196; Deppermann recognizes a Labadist influence on conventicles, but also points to the importance of Reformed conventicles: Andreas Deppermann, Johann Jakob Schütz und die Anfänge des Pietismus, (Tübingen, 2002), passim, esp. 101–102. 41 Ruth Albrecht, Johanna Eleonora Petersen: Theologische Schriftstellerin des frühen Pietis- mus, (Göttingen, 2005); Deppermann, Schütz (see above, n. 40), 81–98; 102–103;Wallmann, Anfänge (see above, n. 15), 264–298. 42 Some sources refer to a “movable wall” instead of a curtain. See Albrecht, Johanna Eleonora Petersen (see above, n. 41), 66–67. 43 For a deep analysis of these events (and in response to Wallmann’s inner-church view of Pietism), see Deppermann, Schütz (see above, n. 40), esp. 120. On a number of early conventicles, cf. Tietz, Winckler (see above, n. 18), 192–196.

Church History and Religious Culture 98 (2018) 1–29Downloaded from Brill.com09/26/2021 12:09:05AM via free access 16 martin found the Saalhof conventicle in which men and women of all ranks read the NewTestament and offered their own interpretations more interesting than the meetings supervised by pastors, where the contributions of laity and especially women were limited. The spread of conventicles where women participated in, or even led, discussions stimulated debate about whether or not women were allowed to speak in church and whether or not groups like conventicles constituted a “church” setting. Opponents quoted biblical passages such as Paul’s instructions to the Corinthians that women should remain silent (iCor 11:3, 14:34, 1Tim 2:12). Advo- cates of women’s participation argued that Paul seems in yet other passages to say that gender is unimportant in spiritual matters: “There is neither male nor female: for you all are one in Christ Jesus” (Gal 3:28). They also pointed to the important roles of women in the Bible and early Church. Increasingly, it was women themselves who were able to put forth new, more female-friendly interpretations of Scripture. No woman theologian was more important in this regard than Johanna Eleonora Merlau, who authored at least fifteen books alone and collaborated with her husband, Johann Wilhelm Petersen (1649–1727) on the development of their common theological positions.44 The couple corresponded with international religious reformers such as Anna Maria van Schurman, William Penn (1644–1718) and Jane Leade (1623– 1704).45The Petersens became the most important advocates of “radical” tenets, such as universal salvation and, of course, women’s right to public religious activity. But it was not only in debates relating to women’s participation that female activists played key roles. At every stage of Pietism, women were catalysts and

44 In her monograph on Petersen, Albrecht calls her a “theological writer,” but not a “theologian” (Ruth Albrecht, Johanna Eleonora Petersen [see above, n. 41]). Martin Jung has remarked that if ever a woman has earned the title, then it is Johanna Eleonora Petersen: Jung, Nachfolger (see above, n. 5), 59–63, here 60. In another context, Albrecht finds that historians have concentrated on Johanna Eleonora Petersen’s unique biography and neglected her theology. Albrecht remarks that pursuing the connections between Petersen’s theological positions and her biography would be a worthwhile project: Albrecht, “Vom Verschwinden der Theologie zugunsten der Biographie,” in GenderingTra- dition, eds. Ulrike Gleixner and Erika Hebeisen (see above, n. 40), 123–148, here 146. Cf. Markus Matthias, Johann Wilhelm and Johanna Eleonora Petersen: Eine Biographie bis zur Amtsenthebung Petersens im Jahre 1692, (Göttingen, 1993). 45 De Baar, “Internationale und interkonfessionelle Netzwerke”; Lucinda Martin, “Female Reformers as the Gatekeepers of Pietism: The Example of Johanna Eleonora Merlau and William Penn,” Monatshefte für deutschsprachige Literatur und Kultur 95 (2003), Nr. 1, 33– 58.

Church History and ReligiousDownloaded Culture from Brill.com09/26/2021 98 (2018) 1–29 12:09:05AM via free access more than piety 17 drivers of change.46 While some women hosted conventicles and acted as organizers in the earliest phases of the movement, yet other (often less educated) women harnessed energy with their proclamation of prophetic visions. Believ- ing that these women were harbingers of the Last Judgement, people flocked to Pietist conventicles hoping to hear the women’s prophecies.47 The women pointed to prophetic passages of the Bible that claimed God would reveal Him- self in the “last days” through women (Joel 2:28; Acts 2:17). Women and laity in general also justified their activities by citing Scripture that called the weak and the lowliest God’s chosen “tools” (1Cor 1:27). As Pietists began to establish institutions that went beyond small conventicles, wealthy women acted as patrons. Female aristocrats arranged positions at universities and courts for Pietist oriented pastors and funded projects and missions. The most important benefactors of the Pietist patriarchs Philipp Jakob Spener and August Hermann Francke (1663–1727) were surely the two princess sisters, Anna Sophia of Saxony (1647–1717) and Wilhelmine Ernestine of the Palatinate (1650–1706) who gave massive amounts of money for Francke to build his “Institutes” (Stiftungen) in Halle. Their role in the establishment of the Halle institutions long remained hidden. The princesses had a court pastor transfer the funds and stipulated that their contributions not be made public— a policy that Francke extended to other female patrons, apparently to avoid charges of inappropriate female meddling in religious affairs.48

46 Lucinda Martin, Women’s Religious Speech and Activism in German Pietism, (Michigan, 2002). Cf. Ruth Albrecht, “Frauen,” in Brecht, et al. Geschichte des Pietismus (see above, n. 4), vol. 4. (ed. Hartmut Lehmann), 522–555. Albrecht maintains that opponents of Pietism exaggerated the role of women for polemical reasons. However, I believe that the extent of women’s participation was likely even greater than is known. Because their activity was controversial, women often acted anonymously as authors and patrons, and their roles have also been obscured by the later destruction of documents pertaining to women. For example, in the eighteenth century, the Herrnhuter destroyed evidence of secret ordinations of women. Fortunately, there were copies of some of the destroyed documents (see Martin, “Nitschmann,” cited below, n. 50). 47 Lucinda Martin, “‘Werkzeuge Gottes’: Ergriffenheit und Besessenheit und ihre Transfor- mationen im Pietismus,” in “Aus Gottes Wort und eigener Erfahrung gezeiget”: Erfahrung— Glauben, Erkennen und Gestalten im Pietismus, eds. Christian Soboth and Udo Sträter, (Halle, 2012), 145–162, here 150ff.; Mori, Begeisterung und Ernüchterung (see above, n. 36), 120–132; Claudia Wustmann, Die “begeisterten Mägde”: Mitteldeutsche Prophetinnen im Radikalpietismus am Ende des 17. Jahrhunderts, (Leipzig, 2008). 48 The pastor was Johann Adolph Rhein (1646–1709). See Lucinda Martin, “Offentlichkeit und Anonymität von Frauen im ‘Radikalen’ Pietismus—Das Spenden adliger Patroninnen,” in Der radikale Pietismus: Perspektiven der Forschung, eds. Wolfgang Breul, et al., (Göttingen, 2010), 385–402.

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Finally, Pietist women took on roles in the institutions that they had helped to establish. Certainly, their roles were much more significant in mostly rural, self-contained communities like those of the Moravian Church—the so-called Brüdergemeine or Herrnhuter—than they were in the very public Halle institutions.49 For legal reasons, the Brüdergemeine was careful to call itself a “congregation” and not a “church,” but the community developed an extensive system of ecclesiastical and social oversight. Under the aristocratic protection of Count Nikolaus Ludwig von Zinzendorf, women took up positions parallel to male clergy at every level of organization. The Moravians ordained men and women who displayed pastoral ability regardless of their social rank, drawing their entire clergy from the laity. Few had any formal education as theologians. Candidates for these positions were confirmed by the use of the lot, which was seen as a way to determine God’s will. Because of fears of a societal backlash, women were ordained in secret, including as bishops. In this way, a poor peas- ant woman, Anna Nitschmann (1715–1760), was ordained as the leader of all women in the worldwide Moravian community in an office parallel to that of Zinzendorf himself over all men.50 In her sermons to the women in her charge, Nitschmann calls them “brides of Christ” and stresses the need for them to obey their clerical superiors. Clearly, Anna Nitschmann made the transition from lay theologian to church theologian.51

5 Heretics or Heroes? Lay Theology and the Invisible Spiritual Church

The question of how to deal with church critics was a special problem for the Protestant Reformation, itself a dissenting movement. Two contradictory ideas battled for dominance: that Protestantism could only thrive if it terminated heterodoxy and hindered schism; and that true Christians must be prepared— like Martin Luther himself—to declaim misconduct in the church. In brief, dissenters could be either heretics or heroes, depending on one’s point of view.

49 Lucinda Martin, “Möglichkeiten und Grenzen geistlicher Rede von Frauen in Halle und Herrnhut,”Pietismus und Neuzeit 29 (2003), 80–100. 50 Martin, Women’s Religious Speech (see above, n. 46), 226–319, esp. 287ff.; Lucinda Martin, “Anna Nitschmann (1715–1760): Priesterin, Generalältestin, Jüngerin der weltweiten Brü- dergemeine,” in Frauen gestalten Diakonie. Vol. 1: Von biblischer Zeit bis zum Pietismus, ed. Adelheid von Hauff, (Stuttgart, 2007), 393–410. 51 Martin, Women’s Religious Speech (see above, n. 46), 226–317, esp. 299–316.

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In the sixteenth century, a steam of anticlericalism developed condemning the abuses of the Lutheran Church and denouncing the persecution of those with differing views. During the Thirty Years’ War—a series of devastating con- flicts partly driven by religious strife—church criticism peaked, but it continued throughout the entire Early Modern period. The oppression of “others”— whether dissenting members of the mainstream confessions or groups like Anabaptists—discredited the state churches in the eyes of many. People came increasingly into contact with these “others” and discovered that they were not nearly as bad as polemical literature portrayed them to be. In the Holy Roman Empire—a checkerboard of hundreds of different duchies, cities, and principalities—each ruler could decide the confession for his land. Subjects easily had contact with those on the other side of a confessional boundary. Sometimes, due to dynastic and wartime changes, subjects could be required to change confessions from one day to the next. What is more, the Reformation did not progress at uniform rates in all areas. In regions such as Lusatia and Silesia, mixed Protestant-Catholic forms persisted into the eighteenth century and sometimes two confessions even shared the same church building (Simul- tankirchen). All of these factors made confessional creeds seem less important than ethical behavior and helped promote the idea that the good were to be found everywhere. The notion that the truly righteous were present in all religious traditions was a spiritualist tenet that had a long history. In the Renaissance, thinkers had conceived of a prisca theologia or philosophia perennis, a single truth underlying all religions.52 While most in the Early Modern period were not able to read ancient Arabic or Hebrew texts to seek evidence of this phenomenon, the belief in a universal truth that had been lost and awaited rediscovery was widespread. This assumption motivated many Christians to study Greek and Hebrew and to read texts of the Christian Kabbala and even Jewish Talmudic texts to seek “prefigurations” of Christianity. Early Modern natural philosophy and new discoveries also contributed to the belief that there was truth in all religions. The lay thinker Jacob Böhme went beyond many who spoke only of truth in Christianity and Judaism. Böhme asserted that the peoples of newly discovered parts of the planet, the “people of a far island” (Leute einer fernen Insul), had to also be part of the divine plan. He reasoned that all humans are divinely endowed with a conscience.

52 Wilhelm Schmidt-Biggemann, Philosophia Perennis: Historische Umrisse abendländischer Spiritualität in Antike, Mittelalter und Früher Neuzeit, (Frankfurt, 1998).

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He could therefore assert that “Jews, Turks, and heathens” could also live righteous lives.53 Inspired by Böhme’s writings, the Austrian jurist Justinian Ernst Baron von Welz (1621–1668) proposed various plans for religious societies to reform the Lutheran Church, but also to convert “heathens” outside Europe.54 Welz’s attempts to convert natives—he was killed by wild animals while missioniz- ing in South America—constitute the first Protestant mission. Spanish and Portuguese Catholic, English Anglican, and Reformed Dutch missions already existed, but historians have tied these to national, colonial interests. Welz too lobbied rulers to support his idea, but theologians spoke out against it.55 They claimed that Christianity was already present on every continent and that “heathens” were so by choice. The birth of modern Protestant missions can thus be traced, not to professional theologians, but to the lay theologian, Welz. Other religious societies adopted his idea and it was only in the eighteenth century when the Pietist institutions in Halle began to receive state patronage that the German Lutheran Church began to do mission work. While most Europeans of the period had little contact with Turks or “heathens” of other continents, there certainly were opportunities for contact with Jews. Pietists like Philipp Jakob Spener wanted to improve conditions for Jews, so that they might convert to Christianity, but other, more “radical” Pietists made plans for new, melded Christian-Jewish religious communities.56 These eschatologically conditioned schemes led numerous lay conventicles as well as the eighteenth-century Moravians to attempt to revive Old Testament rituals. In this way, they hoped to achieve a more original form of the “true Church” that could appeal to both Christians and Jews and usher in the New Jerusalem.

53 See for example: “Truly, there is but one God […] be they Christians or Jews, Turks or heathens. Or do you suppose that God is only the God of Christians?” The original: “War- lich es ist nur ein Gott / Es seien Gleich Christen / Iuden Türcken oder Heiden / Oder meinestu das Gott nur der Christen Gott Seye?” I take Andrew Weeks’s translation: Jacob Boehme, Aurora (Morgen Röte im auffgang, 1612) and Ein gründlicher Bericht or A Funda- mental Report (Mysterium Pansophicum, 1620), translation, introduction, and commentary by Andrew Weeks and Günther Bonheim in collaboration with Michael Spang, (Leiden, 2013), [11,34], 320–321. 54 Fritz Laubach, ed., Justinian von Welz: Ein Österreicher als Vordenker und Pionier der Weltmission, (Bonn, 2010) [Wuppertal, 1989]. 55 Welz proposed his project at the Reichstag in Regensburg in 1664. 56 See the selections in Peter Vogt, ed., Zwischen Bekehrungseifer und Philosemitismus: Texte zur Stellung des Pietismus zum Judentum, (Leipzig, 2007). Cf. Lucinda Martin, “Tolerance, Anti-Judaism, and Philo-Judaism in the Pietist Periodical Bau des Reichs Gottes,” in Semi- nar: A Journal of Germanic Studies 48.3 (September 2012), 301–316.

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Such experiments reveal a paradox: The great desire for religious unity in the period triggered the proliferation of new groups. The reason was clear: A union of all Christians (or of Christians and Jews) would not be possible through the medium of the established churches. Efforts had to be led by laity or by clergy acting outside the bounds of the official church. An example is the 1628 Unio Christiana that the Lutheran churchman and hermetic author Johann Valentin Andreae (1586–1654) established together with patricians and churchmen.57 He was part of a Protestant union endeavor that grew into a pan-European movement, promoted by the likes of Johann Amos Comenius (1592–1670), the famous Czech born educator, and Samuel Hartlib (1600–1662), a German-British polymath.58 These thinkers shared an interest not just in universal religion, but also in an original, universal language and a universal theory of knowledge (Pansophie). Throughout the seventeenth century, many of the undertakings toward religious universalism went under the rubric of “Philadelphia.” Jacob Böhme’s friend and biographer, Abraham von Franckenberg (1593–1652), had included the ideal of a community of “brotherly love” in his own writings, and spiritualist reading circles, especially Rosicrucians, took up the cause of Philadelphia. The prophetic author Paul Felgenhauer (1593–ca. 1677) gathered such a group near Bremen in the 1640s and 1650s,59 and Justinian von Welz founded a Philadel- phian circle before turning his attention to missions.60 Finally, in the 1690s a “Philadelphian Society” under the leadership of Jane Leade became very influential in continental religious circles.61 In their conventicles and widespread correspondence networks, Philadelphians influenced by Leade hashed out a series of doctrines. Some, such as a female element in the Godhead—Sophia, or Divine Wisdom—were not shared equally by all. What all did agree on was the

57 Andreae had already formed a “Christian God-loving Society” (Christliche Gottliebende Gesellschaft) with charitable aims. Much later (1646) he also became a member of the literary Fruchtbringende Gesellschaft. 58 The so-called Hartlib circle of correspondents, which existed from around 1630, was one forerunner of the Royal Society of London. 59 Hans-Jürgen Schrader, Literaturproduktion und Büchermarkt des radikalen Pietismus: Johann Heinrich Reitz’ “Historie der Wiedergebohrnen” und ihr geschichtlicher Kontext, (Göttingen, 1989), 375f. 60 JustinianTreulöw [= Justinian vonWelz], academia universalis philadelphica seu collegium samaritanorvm […], (n.pl.: n.pub., 1669). 61 Hans Schneider, “Der radikale Pietismus im 18: Jahrhundert,” in Martin Brecht, ed. Ge- schichte des Pietismus (see above, n. 4), Vol. 2, (Göttingen, 1995), 107–197.

Church History and Religious Culture 98 (2018) 1–29Downloaded from Brill.com09/26/2021 12:09:05AM via free access 22 martin goal of gathering an Invisible Spiritual Church of “Children of God” scattered throughout all nations and confessions.62 Historically, the ancient concept of an Invisible Spiritual Church goes back at least to Augustine, who thought that true reality is invisible and the visible world is but a distorted reflection. Numerous passages in the Bible differentiate between the visible church of all and the invisible church of the elect (Matt 7:21–27, 13:24–30, 24:29–51), but the idea took on new significance during the Reformation, when Protestants contrasted the Roman church with the body of true believers in their own denominations and beyond. Pietist conventicles pushed this idea further, calling themselves ecclesiolae in ecclesia because the participants understood themselves as the invisible “reborn” within the more general visible church. They contrasted themselves with “outer Christians” (Scheinchristen) who went through the motions of Christianity, but who were not especially committed.63 In the 1690s, the church historian Gottfried Arnold (1666–1714) sought to write the history of the true—invisible—church. In his “First Love” (Die Erste Liebe) of 1696, Arnold paints an idealized portrait of the early Church.64 He argues that their customs should be the norm for Christians instead of the practices of the corrupt state churches. Arnold’s magnum opus on this subject was his Impartial History of Church and Heresy of 1699/1700, in which the Lutheran theologian traced Christian history from its beginnings to his own time.65 However, in Arnold’s history, those labelled—and often burned—as “heretics” throughout the ages were recast as members of the “true Church,” while those who were part of the institutional church were the real “heretics” who had falsified Christianity. According to Arnold, the institutional church had perverted Christianity by inventing non-Biblical clerical offices and by allying itself with wicked rulers who had instrumentalized the church for un- Christian activities such as waging war. He opposed this image to the primitive Church, where small groups of men and women had met to read Scripture, prophesy, and support one another. In this way, Arnold explicitly weighed the

62 Lucinda Martin, “Noch eine ‘res publica literaria’? Die Briefe der Unsichtbaren Kirche als diskursiver Raum,” Aufklärung 28 (2016), 135–172. 63 As Grote shows in his essay below, Halle Pietists were later at pains to prove that Christians needed the visible Church and its sacraments as well as inner change. 64 Gottfried Arnold, Die Erste Liebe […] Wahre Abbildung der Ersten Christen […], (Frankfurt a.M.: Friedeburg, 1696). 65 Gottfried Arnold, Unparteyische Kirchen- und Ketzer-Historie: von anfang des Neuen Testa- ments biß auff das Jahr Christi 1688, ([Leipzig]: n.pub., 1699–1700).

Church History and ReligiousDownloaded Culture from Brill.com09/26/2021 98 (2018) 1–29 12:09:05AM via free access more than piety 23 activities of clergy against those of the laity, in essence redefining the “true church” as a lay church. Furthermore, the “true church” was “impartial” (unparteyisch) in Arnold’s view, meaning that it was not divided into different confessions. Most contem- porary Lutheran theologians contrasted a properly dogmatic Lutheran church against the foil of a reprobate Catholic church, but Arnold made the “true Church” much more geographically and theologically global. Through the ages, its members had kept the true faith alive under the cover of various denominations, including Catholicism. Arnold referred to all divisions of Christianity using the polemical term, “sects” (Sekten),66 and the presence of creeds and divisions was for him a characteristic trait of the false church.The “true Church” was therefore the worldwide fellowship of all the righteous, many of whom, to be sure, were doing their best to live just lives within the degenerate state churches. The discourse contrasting an inner, true, pure, invisible Church with an outer, false, corrupted, visible one soon catalyzed efforts to gather the Children of God internationally. These enterprises primarily took form as epistolary networks of lay reformers. Antoinette Bourignon corresponded with believers all over Europe who wrote to her for spiritual advice. She formulated no strict dogma, but understood the multi-confessional body of seekers who wrote to her as the “true Church.” Johann Georg Gichtel (1638–1710), a Böhme adherent living in exile in Amsterdam, likewise carried on an extensive correspondence across national and confessional lines. He considered the like-minded among them as his “Angelic Brethren” (Engelsbrüder). Similarly, Jane Leade used letters to gather the “Children of God” in preparation for an end of time Philadelphian community. These overlapping correspondence networks served as discursive spaces, where participants could debate theological doctrine. They also offered an alternate form of theological education, especially for women, who could be both mentors and mentees in these networks.67 Furthermore, the lay activists in these networks were pious tourists who travelled internationally to seek out like-minded reformers. Dozens of Ger-

66 In most English usage, “sect” is used as a neutral, scholarly term, but in German it retains the more defamatory meaning of a dangerous cult-like group. 67 Lucinda Martin, “Pietistische Briefe als Mittel der Erziehung in radikal-pietistischen phila- delphischen Kreisen um 1700,” in Erziehung als “Entfehlerung”: Weltanschauung, Bildung und Geschlecht in der Neuzeit, eds. Anne Conrad and Alexander Maier, (Bad Heilbrunn, 2017); Idem, “God’s Strange Providence: Jane Lead in the Correspondence of Johann Georg Gichtel,” in Jane Lead and her Transnational Legacy, ed. Ariel Hessayon, (London, 2016), 187–212.

Church History and Religious Culture 98 (2018) 1–29Downloaded from Brill.com09/26/2021 12:09:05AM via free access 24 martin mans interested in gathering the righteous into one supraconfessional union made a tour to visit important lay theologians such as Gichtel in Amsterdam and Leade in London.They were also curious about foreign denominations and visited them when the opportunity arose. People sought and came into contact more and more with those of other confessions, nations, languages; with their Jewish neighbors; with a wide range of dissenters; with wandering prophets and with foreign-based groups like Quietists and Quakers.68 The habits and literature of these groups accompanied them and people happily integrated new tenets into their own developing theologies. In this theological market, the Netherlands played a special role. Because of the more liberal policies regarding freedom of belief, speech, and the press, religious refugees from German lands often found asylum there. If one understood persecution by the state church as a sign of righteousness—and many did—then the large number of religious refugees in Amsterdam were de facto a gathering of the “Children of God.” Some even thought that Amsterdam would be the site of the New Jerusalem. Publishers established German-language presses in Amsterdam to meet the needs of both the exile community and those in German territories who bought censored writings through underground channels. The texts were often produced in Amsterdam as well. Johann Georg Gichtel led a community of men in the monumental task of editing and publishing the complete theosophical writings of Jacob Böhme in 1682 from Amsterdam. Gichtel also coordinated the translation and distribution of heterodox literature through clandestine networks. Other groups along this model existed throughout Europe, from Lon- don to Zurich and reaching into the North American colonies. Typically, the men and women in these communities lived celibate lives and dedicated themselves to prayer and to writing, translating and publishing religious texts. These could range from the monastic household of Gerhard Tersteegen to the large Protestant Cloister at Ephrata in Pennsylvania.69 Many of these communities believed that they were completing the Reformation. They emphasized inde- pendence from “worldly” power structures, including churches and universities, but instead of rejecting the notion of a clerisy, they developed their own, new ecclesiastical structures.

68 Cf. Sünne Juterczenka, Über Gott und die Welt: Endzeitvisionen, Reformdebatten und die europäische Quäkermission in der Frühen Neuzeit, (Göttingen, 2008). 69 Jeff Bach, Voices of the Turtledoves: The Sacred World of Ephrata (University Park, 2003).

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6 Conclusion: Lay Theology and Historiography

This article has traced the contours of lay theology in the Early Modern period, at the same time underscoring discrepancies between high levels of lay participation in religious matters and the historiography of Early Modern religion, which has neglected lay theologians. The other articles in this issue of Church History and Religious Culture confirm that confessional and ideological preju- dices have skewed historiography about lay theology. In his article, Jetze Touber takes as his starting point the thesis by Jonathan Israel and other scholars that lay theology was a manifestation of early Enlight- enment. Touber agrees that a “Religious Enlightenment” took place, but he refutes the assertion that lay theology grew out of the ideas of rationalist philosophers such as Benedictus de Spinoza and Lodewijk Meijer. Rather, Touber can track seventeenth-century lay theology in the Dutch Republic back to much older policies of the public church, which sought to involve laity in religious instruction. Touber speaks of a “culture of catechesis” that promoted lay religion starting in at least the 1640s. Church theologians introduced and encouraged lay Bible reading, but then objected when laity began interpreting Scripture in new ways. Many of the new non-clerical interpreters of Scripture were well educated and brought expertise in their own disciplines to bear. Among other examples, Touber presents the case of Willem Goeree (1635–1711), a publisher skilled in architectural and graphic design who became embroiled in a theological debate with the Leiden professor of theology, Johannes Coccejus (1603–1669) about the temple described by the prophet Ezekiel (Ezek 40–48). Goeree claimed the right to contradict Coccejus’s interpretation by appealing to his own knowledge of architecture—a discipline in which Goeree had the upper hand. In this context, Touber points out that the recently much discussed “Radical Enlightenment” emerged at a time when laity had been urged for over a generation to contemplate the divine through the lens of catechetical materials. Touber’s findings undermine the thesis that the early Enlightenment kindled lay theology, and prompt instead the suspicion that lay theology may have paved the way for the Enlightenment. The interest in combining religion and other fields of learning exhibited by the architecturally knowledgeable Goeree extended as well to women, who became increasingly learned in the period. Elke Morlok’s article in this issue presents the case of Princess Antonia of Württemberg and her so-called Lehr- tafel or “Teaching Panel,” which relies on Antonia’s deep knowledge of Hebrew and Jewish mystical texts as well as Christian and hermetic traditions. The altarpiece conflates Christian and Jewish imagery in such a way that regular Christian churchgoers could access the artwork for devotions. At the same

Church History and Religious Culture 98 (2018) 1–29Downloaded from Brill.com09/26/2021 12:09:05AM via free access 26 martin time, those familiar with Hebrew and Kabbala would have read the picture at a deeper level. As a woman, Antonia belonged per se to the laity, but her very high level of education, obtained through private tutors, enabled her to practice theological speculation that was far more erudite than that of many ordained theologians. Most studies of the Lehrtafel have concentrated on the churchmen connected to Antonia, yet Morlok unearths Antonia’s gendered manipulation of Christian and Jewish symbols to reveal a feminized divine order underlying the artwork. If Antonia plays with the boundaries between Christianity and Judaism, Friedrich Breckling (1629–1711) pushed the boundaries between orthodoxy and heterodoxy. In his article in this issue, Andreas Pietsch discusses Breckling, a German Lutheran theologian dismissed from his post for his “heretical” views. Breckling sought refuge in the Netherlands, where he was able to eke out a living, primarily as an editor of religious texts. During his long tenure in exile, some Lutheran theologians continued to see Breckling as one of their own, while others labelled him a “fanatic.”70 Pietsch is able to show how the polemical assumptions of the past have persisted in historiography to the present day. Because Breckling contributed materials for Gottfried Arnold’s “Impar- tial History of Church and Heretics,” historians have labeled him a “Radical Pietist,” but Pietsch uncovers evidence that reveals Arnold’s substantial rework- ing of Breckling’s materials. Most significantly, Arnold deleted Breckling’s own list of “heretics” and even shifted some of Breckling’s Häretiker into a list of “witnesses to Truth.” Evidently Breckling wanted to redefine the categories of orthodoxy and heterodoxy, but not as much as either Arnold or his orthodox opponents would have it appear. Pietsch refers to Breckling as a “border figure”: He mediated between German and Dutch dissidence in the period and between Lutheran orthodoxy and dissenting figures like Arnold. Yet Breckling’s “border” status is relevant not only because of the border between orthodoxy and heterodoxy that he wanted to shift. His case also prompts the question: Where was the boundary between piety and theology? Was Breckling a theologian because he studied theology at a university and then practiced as a pastor in the Lutheran Church? Or was he a theologian because the (state) church had ordained him? If so, did he then revert to being a regular layman when the church revoked his status? In the final article of this issue, Simon Grote illustrates how lay theology could infiltrate apparently orthodox or even ostensibly non-religious publica-

70 For example, August Hermann Francke carried on a long correspondence with Breckling, but the churchman Ernst Salomon Cyprian (1673–1745) condemned Breckling as a heretic.

Church History and ReligiousDownloaded Culture from Brill.com09/26/2021 98 (2018) 1–29 12:09:05AM via free access more than piety 27 tions to reach readers in unforeseen ways. Grote unfolds the case of the Halle university theologian Joachim Lange, who led Halle Pietists in presenting to the public a “middle way” between the orthodoxy and some of the most eccen- tric reformers active on the seventeenth-century religious scene. Grote details how Lange integrated Pierre Poiret’s heterodox ideas about meditation and the human mind into his own theology, even as he rejected Poiret’s Quietist views about the need to suppress the “depraved” human will. Lange understood contemplation as “medicine for the mind” and a basic part of Christian practice. Grote details, however, how Lange and his medicina mentis came to be seen as obsolete in the face of a more “rational” approach to theology and philosophy in the early eighteenth century. Yet Lange’s—and through him, Poiret’s— influence did not end with Lange’s defeat in the philosophical-theological skir- mishes of the period. Grote is able to demonstrate how Lange assimilated Poiret’s thought into his best-selling book—not a theological treatise, but a Latin grammar that incorporated Poiret’s philosophy of mind and employed a form of contemplation to foster the learning of Latin. Grote can thus speak of a “domestication” of Poiret’s lay theology,71 which lingered for several generations in the guise of language pedagogy. Grote contends that historians have made Lange’s story, and Poiret’s, too simple and their intellectual demise too complete: the influence of both men was not wiped away, but endured in unex- pected ways. Historians of the Enlightenment have long adhered to the myth that a “rational” Enlightenment allied with science defeated superstition and religion. While this thesis has been softened in recent years, it still holds sway. The powerful discourse has led to the false notion of religion and science as two monolithic opposing forces, when in fact, most contemporaries saw these realms as deeply intertwined. Many thinkers were deeply engaged in trying to reconcile an older biblically based worldview with new knowledge.The diary of a German student recording his peregrinatio academica through northern Ger- many and the Netherlands in 1703 demonstrates just how connected questions of religiosity and knowledge were for contemporaries.72 Most of the “scholars” that the Silesian Gottlieb Stolle and his two fellow students visited were either ordained theologians or lay religious activists. Even when they visited jurists or historians, the discussion centered mainly on subjects pertaining to religion, such as how new discoveries fit into a biblical timeline. What is

71 As with Breckling, Poiret was yet another figure who began as a pastor (in his case in the Reformed Church), but was unfrocked after heterodox preaching. 72 I am grateful to Martin Mulsow for sharing his forthcoming edition of the travelogue with me.

Church History and Religious Culture 98 (2018) 1–29Downloaded from Brill.com09/26/2021 12:09:05AM via free access 28 martin more, the names of certain lay theologians dominated discussion, chief among them Jacob Böhme, Pierre Poiret, Jane Leade, and Anne Maria van Schurman. Stolle and his companions discussed these figures, not for their “piety” but for their theological and philosophical innovations. These lay theologians drew on knowledge from multiple fields of inquiry—alchemy, astronomy, medicine, archeology, and hermetic interests, and took impulses from other national, religious, and linguistic traditions, acting as early proponents of the globalization of knowledge. It was their “thinking outside the box,” their deviation from the stale schools of orthodox theology and university philosophy and their eclectic mixing of different kinds of knowledge that made these lay theologians interesting for Stolle and other Early Modern scholars. Willem Goeree’s interest in biblical architecture, Princess Antonia’s knowledge of Hebrew and Kabbala, Friedrich Breckling’s attempts to shift the boundaries of orthodoxy, and Joachim Lange’s reliance on Poiret’s theories of mind were all inventive attempts to deal with the nexus of religion and other kinds of knowledge. Paradoxically, their origi- nality excluded these lay theologians from appearing in Early Modern histories, which traced genealogies of university-educated scholars from one Doktorvater and his student to the next. In succeeding generations, scholars of the philosophical Enlightenment purged their histories of anything that smacked of religion, and church historians excluded “fanatics” who departed from traditional dogma. Similarly, modern scholars have often dismissed the efforts of Early Modern thinkers to combine different fields of knowledge either as “irrational” or as “fanatical.” In doing so, they have, without realizing it, simply taken up the vocabulary of Early Modern polemical battles. To defend their disciplinary turf against the incursions of lay thinkers, Early Modern theologians and university philosophers used these same epithets to characterize those who transgressed the tightly controlled boundaries of their fields of study. In this way, scholars have unquestioningly adopted the officially sanctioned histories of the past that marginalized the contributions of lay thinkers. Modern historical terminology thus perpetuates Early Modern polemical categories. In the Early Modern period, one who was regarded as a “heretic” in one principality could be considered harmless by the ruler of a neighboring region. Designations such as “heretic,” “fanatic,” and “enthusiast” were not tied to particular doctrines, which could vary, but rather to the status of individuals to signify that they did not have the permission of rulers to act as theologians. This is best illustrated by the case of female theologians. Regardless of the con- tent of their thought, by merely speaking on religion, women were breaking taboos. By definition, a woman who spoke publicly on religion was commit-

Church History and ReligiousDownloaded Culture from Brill.com09/26/2021 98 (2018) 1–29 12:09:05AM via free access more than piety 29 ting heresy. When historians study female religious figures today, they usually subsume them under the category “radical,” since there were no allowances in official churches for women to act as theologians. In historiography, “radical”— whether the Radical Reformation or Radical Pietism—typically differentiates between a mainstream, heroic group of reformers and those who in some sense went too far.73 In the Early Modern period, which theologians counted as legitimate and which were merely upstart “radical” laity really came down to a matter of state licensing. While it is understandable that the Early Modern Church wanted to defend its hegemony, it is less clear why modern historians have accepted the criteria of state licensing as the decisive factor in determin- ing which historical figures are deserving of scholarly study.

73 Michael Driedger has explored these mechanisms in Reformation historiography: “Against ‘the Radical Reformation’: On the Continuity between Early Modern Heresy-Making and Modern Historiography,” in Radicalism and Dissent in the World of Protestant Reform, eds. Bridget Heal and Anorthe Kremers (Göttingen, 2017), 139–161. The problematic and shift- ing definitions of the term “radical Pietism” have been best explored by Hans Schneider, German Radical Pietism (Lanham, 2007).

Church History and Religious Culture 98 (2018) 1–29Downloaded from Brill.com09/26/2021 12:09:05AM via free access