Sowing the Artes Bonarum: The Lutheran Reformation and Educational Renewal

Introduction

The more one examines the Lutheran Reformation, the more it becomes apparent that it was in large part an educational endeavor. It sought to galvanize a people toward a fuller existence rooted in Christ the Source of all reality. Through its core principles of the solas and its exhortations, polemics, and prescriptions for the return of the Catholic Church to true catholicity, it strove to transform as many Europeans as possible into a people of the Book and of the Word. These educational aspirations are most clearly seen in what the Reformers viewed as their most critical project: to tutor the young for the glory of God alone in schools based firmly on the prevailing medieval model of the liberal arts. For Luther, this was even more challenging than persuading the populace to accept the theology of the solas. He lamented in his letter "On Behalf of Christian Schools" that "the real difficulty is found alone in the absence of an earnest desire to educate the young, and to aid and benefit mankind with accomplished citizens. The devil much prefers blockheads and drones, that men may have more abundant trials and sorrows in the world."[i]

The Lutherans brought a particularly vibrant perspective to bear upon the cultivation of schools and souls in the struggle to reclaim the centrality of Scripture—one with clear analogues in the classical and medieval traditions, but nevertheless a unique formulation. Further, they were able to integrate the great heritage of "Athens" as manifested in the arts of language and philosophy with a return to the fountain of "Jerusalem" in innovative ways that may prove beneficial to today's advocates of classical education. This essay will consider the historical curriculum of the Lutheran school—and the rationale behind it—as manifested in the "trivial arts" and the "contemplative arts." These together comprise a rich order of learning aimed toward raising the eyes of the soul toward the noble and lovely, in turn inspiring us to well-rounded lives of devotion to God and our neighbor.

Melanchthon’s Educational Reforms

The University of Wittenberg was founded in 1486 by Frederick the Wise (notable for his later benevolence toward the Reformation), who was looking to boost the renown of his region. By the time of Luther, Frederick's lavishness had built the university into a major academic center that boasted some of Germany's finest faculty. When the tide of 1517 rolled around, Luther had already been on the theology faculty for nine years. One of his first priorities in the following years was to spearhead the transformation of the institution according to all the riches of historical Christian scholarship that could be retrieved from the corruptions of papism. But he could not have done so without the dynamic young scholar Philip Melanchthon, who took a teaching post at the university in 1518 at age 21.

Melanchthon's status as "Luther's right hand man" has tended to overshadow his position as one of the West's greatest educational mavericks. His influence went far beyond Wittenberg into a series of Latin schools which he inaugurated for the young, and textbooks and commentaries on all the classical arts, including grammar, logic, rhetoric, literature, and philosophy. The title praeceptor Germaniae ("teacher of the Germans") was not a mere honorarium. Some have suggested that he was responsible for the genesis of the modern public school system. Certainly he was a more proactive "school planter" than virtually anyone before him. In addition to Wittenberg, he helped to reform at least five other universities, authored a "rule" for the primary schools of Saxony, and disseminated his writings to such an extent that they came to be adopted even by Roman Catholic educators. Other major educational advocates in the Lutheran tradition included Johannes Sturm (who founded the famous Gymnasium of Strasbourg, converting to Calvinism there), Johannes Bugenhagen (who brought Melanchthon's influence to Northern Germany and Scandinavia), and Niels Hemmingsen (a Dane who reformed the University of Copenhagen and that region's schools according to Melanchthon's principles). Clearly, the Lutheran soil was a vibrant bedrock for the life of the mind.

The curriculum of the schools reformed by Melanchthon can be roughly divided into two components: the "trivial arts" of grammar, logic (dialectic), and rhetoric—all of which pertain to the proper organization of language—and the "contemplative arts," which encompass literature, history, the fine arts, the Quadrivium, and philosophy. These encompass knowledge of the natural order of the cosmos and the best elements of human culture. The former arts cultivate correctness, precision, eloquence, and acuity with words. The latter arts foster loftiness and nobility of thought and action, filling the soul with venerable examples of worthy behavior and aspirations. Theology is the mistress of both, uniting them with its binding vision of reality. Generally, the "trivial arts" have their roots in the classical rhetorical tradition of Greece and Rome, while the "contemplative" arts owe more to the medieval heritage of interpreting Plato and Aristotle in light of Scriptural study. Both these categories of arts aim to nurture free and flourishing human beings with a grace-filled posture toward learning and good works. 

The Trivial Arts

Luther's enthusiasm for and command of languages is well-known. In Latin, Greek, and Hebrew he found a rich order and rigor capable of delivering the best of culture and of reflecting the perfection of the Law. "Indeed," he writes in "On Behalf of Christian Schools," "if the languages were of no practical benefit, we ought still to feel an interest in them as a wonderful gift of God, with which he has now blessed Germany almost beyond all other lands."[ii] Knowledge of what Luther called the artes bonarum ("arts of the good"), including Latin proficiency, was key to the preservation of sound doctrine as well as the ability to enter into the cultural conversation of the day. For Melanchthon, a skilled classicist steeped in Erasmian humanism, "that part of philosophy that is most agreeable appears to me to depend chiefly on the knowledge of languages," which are for "pleasure, profit, and necessity."[iii] Melanchthon even goes so far as to compare the belittlers of language to plunderers of the Temple who strip the sacred space of its ornaments! Were languages to be banished from the schools, "it would be sadder than if the sun were taken from the world."[iv] If God saw fit to deliver His Word by means of human words, then we have nothing less than direct divine commission to immerse ourselves in the structure of language (grammar), so that we can utilize it in a beautiful and well-ordered way (rhetoric).

Though grammar is emphasized in the self-contained study of language, logic and dialectic were also embraced, albeit to a somewhat lesser degree. We know that Luther wrote scholastic disputations and participated in them throughout his life, but his relationship with this branch of the Trivium was certainly the most troubled, as he was reluctant to grant too much weight to human deductions. He lamented that, in his own schooling, he had learned too much arid logic and not enough history and literature. Nonetheless, after a brief initial spell of abolition, disputations were continued at Wittenberg, as was the study of Aristotle's works on the Trivium: his Organon, Rhetoric, and Poetics, all of which Luther modestly praised as helpful to the cultivation of good thought and style (he did seek to eliminate Aristotle's ethical and metaphysical treatises at Wittenberg, though Melanchthon would bring back lectures on Aristotelian ethics). In the primary schools, more effort was poured into catechesis than disputation. Melanchthon's textbooks abandoned the meticulous critical analysis of various opinions that marked the scholastic method in favor of the loci or "commonplace" model: a series of brief, simple questions and answers in the spirit of the catechisms.

Luther's favoring of grammar and rhetoric over logic finds its full expression in his glorification of Cicero, the pagan author for whom he reserved his most effusive words. The great Roman orator is sapientissimus and optimus philosophus. For unruly children who needed a dose of the Law to curb their wantonness, he recommended De officiis (On Duties or On Obligations) as a text which could hardly be surpassed—an enthusiasm fully shared by Melanchthon, for whom Cicero's exhortations to virtue are much more accessible and exciting than the dry scholastic disputations. But although the Reformers praised the orator's eloquence, their fondness for him undoubtedly rests principally in his extolling of the usefulness of the arts. For Cicero, the highest purpose of learning is to become a statesman—to influence one's moral community for the better, and to inspire one's fellow citizens to lives of service, sacrifice, and integrity. Lutheran education views the liberal arts as eminently useful for a flourishing life in the civil realm, and for the refinement and inculturation which marks the gentleman. The Ciceronian model of living prudently in service of one's neighbor matches the Lutheran conception of good works—God does not need them, but our fellow men do for the betterment of the civil estate. Facility with language helps us to know what is worth doing and to win others over to it, while a deep immersion in the great texts of Western civilization allows us to participate in the gifts of culture with an eager yet discerning spirit, fully aware of God's general revelation in the thoughts and works of men. 

The Contemplative Arts

It would be easy to conclude that the Lutherans' Ciceronian stress on action would lead to a devaluation of the pure contemplation that marked the high medieval milieu—the love of wisdom for its own sake and the elevation of the mind toward the beautiful. But though Lutheranism may knock philosophy down a notch from its scholastic supremacy, it does not render it invalid or impermissible. Generally, we must look to Melanchthon to provide the most representative summary of the Lutheran attitude toward philosophy. In commenting upon a passage of Plato, he remarks: "Are these not most weighty words, young men? I do not want them to be part of the Gospel, but they should have their place. It is a knowledge of reason, which leads to the boundaries set up by divine providence, if it applies itself to philosophy correctly, if it seeks for the traces of divinity in things and if it considers the nature of the human mind."[v] For Melanchthon, instead of seeing philosophy as a purely manmade system, it is better to view it as natural theology; a tracing of God's almighty providence in creation. Such studies lead us to a knowledge of the beauty and order of the Law. To equate the efficacy of philosophy with that of theology is indeed to make a grievous error, but it is no less improper to deny the universal presence of the Lord in illuminating to some degree all men and every corner of the universe. Only the believer can take delight in philosophy, since he is freed from the obligation to justify himself through it.

Contemplation is also seen in the Reformers' emphasis on the "Ideal Types" which education ought to furnish. This refers to the great examples gleaned from history and literature, from inquiry into the past and revelling in poetic images, which can serve as valiant objects upon which to train the eyes of the soul. Education must take us out of ourselves to help us know what is worth loving and hating (to paraphase Plato); it needs concrete ideals and not abstract platitudes to assist in this mission. Christ entered time and uttered parables to draw us to Him, so the Christian should likewise delight in the study of time (history) and parables (literature).

Here too, Renaissance humanism is everywhere in evidence. For the ideal human, Luther did not offer a flawless statue of David as Michelangelo did, or an enchanting Venus as Botticelli did, but a crucified incarnate God. Yet for both the humanists and the Lutherans, to look further back in the course of our civilization is to find and recover alluring treasures of wisdom that are worth encountering and internalizing simply because they are good. Luther and Melanchthon viewed history and poetry primarily as great mirrors held up to humanity, reflecting the best and worst of ourselves so that we might learn to order our conduct aright. In his oration "On the Usefulness of Fables," the praeceptor writes that the fantastic images contained in Aesop's fables are capable of inspiring wonder in the child, "inflaming" them with "a concern to investigate these things."[vi] Melanchthon's essays reveal an irrepressible joy in the presence of the great authors and in the wonders of the poetic, but also a determination to plumb the canon for every possible moral application. Lutheran education thus follows in the Augustinian tradition, which sees the liberal and fine arts as "signs" that must be loved with an ordinate affection that ultimately directs one toward their Author. Poetry, philosophy, history, visual art, and, of course, music are worth knowing and studying simply because they are beautiful, which is to say they are of Christ. Lutheran contemplation is not disembodied or merely functional, but in its totality is oriented heavenward. Heaven has already met earth in Christ, and the promise of salvation is in the heart of every baptized believer. Now the Edenic leisure sought so earnestly by the monastics can be pursued completely apart from fear or compulsion.

Conclusion

The Lutherans entered into the great classical revival of the Renaissance, mined humanism for its relevant curriculum choices and pedagogical tactics, and reminded it that only the words of Scripture could deliver us from evil and produce a true "people of the book." Simultaneously, they prolonged the monastic legacy of immersion in the Word, with the liberal arts as "beautiful captives" in its service, but adjusted its theology so that such learning was not a means for justification, but a truly meet, right, and salutary way of encountering the Lord and inhabiting time. In so doing, they found a via media between excessive emphasis on the secular and complete isolation from the world. In a time when many classical educators find themselves frustrated in the effort to relate the elegant wisdom of "Athens" to the saving message of "Jerusalem," the Lutheran way is able to provide comfort, direction, and assurance. It declares the truth of free justification while opening up the artes bonarum and the gifts of philosophy as witnesses to Him through Whom we have life. It aims to build a community of truth-lovers capable of enriching each other in the art of being human.

[i] Martin Luther, “On Behalf of Christian Schools,” in Luther on Education, ed. And trans. F.V.N. Painter (Concordia Publishing House, 1928) 200.

[ii] Ibid., 183.

[iii] Melanchthon, “On the Study of Languages,” in Orations on Philosophy and Education, ed. Sachiko Kusukawa, trans. Christine F. Salazar (Cambridge University Press, 1999) 29.

[iv] Ibid., 36.

[v] Melanchthon, “On Plato,” in Orations on Philosophy and Education, 194.

[vi] Melanchthon, “On the Usefulness of Fables,” in Orations on Philosophy and Education, 56.

Davis C. Smith is an MA student at Hillsdale College's Graduate School of Classical Education. His research interests include aesthetics, hymnody and liturgics, the Western literary tradition, the intersection of Athens and Jerusalem; and the theology of Augustine, Luther, and Kierkegaard. His work has been featured by the Sigma Tau Delta Review, Voegelin View, and the Consortium for Classical Lutheran Education.