A few years ago, while I was leading a group of Christians touring various Reformation sites along the Rhine in Switzerland, Germany, and the Netherlands, our tour group took a day trip to Marburger Schloss, or Marburg Castle, to see the famous site of the encounter between the two titanic Reformers Martin Luther (1483–1546) and Huldreich Zwingli (1484–1531).

To reach the castle was a stiff climb through medieval streets dotted with houses that dated from the very time when the two German Reformers also passed through the town on their way to the castle. Both men were remarkable Christians whom God had used in spectacular ways to bring genuine reform to their respective lands of Saxony and Switzerland. Yet they were also both men, with the failings common to their kind.

When we think of the issues debated during the German Reformation, we think of matters such as justification and the authority of the Scriptures. But as contentious as these primary issues were, the nature of the Lord’s Supper was also heavily debated. Is Christ present at the Table? And if so, how? That’s what Luther and Zwingli came to debate.

How Is Christ Present?

The medieval Church had defined the nature of Christ’s presence with regard to the elements of the bread and wine in 1215 through the dogma of transubstantiation. According to this doctrine, at a certain moment in the church’s celebration of the Table, when the priest prayed for the descent of the Holy Spirit upon the bread and the wine, they were transformed into the very body and very blood of Christ. They ceased to be bread and wine, even though to all of one’s human senses that is what they seemed to be.

Not surprisingly, this dogma led to all kinds of superstitions, such as the worship of the elements themselves and deep anxiety about the reception of the Table. What was meant to be a place of comfort and a means of grace — both strengthening the believer and giving assurance of salvation — became an entanglement of ignorance and fear.

All of the Reformers clearly rejected the medieval dogma of transubstantiation, but they were deeply divided over the answer to the question “How then is Christ present at the Table?”

Protestant Dispute

In the view of Luther, Christ’s body and blood are present “in, with, and under” the bread and the wine. Just as when an iron poker becomes red-hot if left in the fire long enough, so the bread and the wine actually contain Christ’s body after the prayer of consecration. Contrary to the Roman dogma of transubstantiation, the bread remains bread and the wine remains wine. But they now contain the body and blood of Christ. How this takes place, Luther was quite content to leave in the realm of what we today call mystery.

For Zwingli, participation in the Lord’s Supper was a community event in which the people of God came together to be nourished by Christ through his Spirit. In fact, to Zwingli’s way of thinking, the Lord’s Supper is “no true meal if Christ is not present.” The bread and the wine are “the means by which an almost mystical union with Christ is achieved.”1 It is indeed ironic that Zwingli would have ardently repudiated what has come to be called the “Zwinglian” position on the presence of Christ at his Table — namely, that the Lord’s Supper is simply a memorial. Yet Zwingli rejected Luther’s idea of the presence of Christ in the elements since he could not agree with Luther’s conviction that Christ’s human body was ubiquitous (that is, able to be present everywhere).

Meeting at Marburg

The German ruler Philip of Hesse (1504–1567), who had embraced the convictions of the Reformation, was deeply concerned that division among the Reformers would jeopardize the political future of the Reformation. He was concerned that Roman Catholic princes would seek to exploit this division to politically roll back the advance of the reform.

Philip thus arranged for a colloquy to take place at his castle in Marburg in the fall of 1529, which he hoped would heal the division between the two Reformation giants. Luther, it needs to be noted, went unwillingly to the meeting, though Zwingli was eager to end their disagreement. Along with Luther and Zwingli, other key figures were invited, including the irenic Martin Bucer (1491–1551), Luther’s trusted coworker Philipp Melanchthon (1497–1560), and the Basel Reformer Johann Oecolampadius (1482–1531).

On the first day of the conference, October 1, Philip arranged for Melanchthon to meet with Zwingli, and for Oecolampadius to confer with Luther. He rightly gauged that having the two principal figures meet immediately after their respective journeys — including that hard trudge up to Marburger Schloss — might not be wise. The following day, however, Zwingli and Luther met. It was an explosive meeting that failed to unite the two Christian leaders.

Accord and Discord

Luther insisted that “This is my body” means simply that: the word is needs to be taken literally — the bread is the body of Christ. Zwingli, convinced that the risen body of Christ had ascended to heaven and could not be literally present in every locale where the Lord’s Supper was being celebrated, insisted as vehemently that the elements must therefore be vehicles through which God met with those who came to the Table with faith.

As in every theological disagreement, however, more than theology divided them. The fact that Luther’s Saxon dialect was virtually incomprehensible to a speaker of Swiss German like Zwingli has been seen by Bruce Gordon as a parable of their mutual inability to understand one another and their differing visions of the Christian life. In sum, their “views of God and humanity, their differences as Swiss and German” — though both men were uncompromising — and “their self-understandings as prophets rendered agreement impossible.”2

And yet, they were able to draft a statement about the Eucharist. The following article, article 15, comes after fourteen points about which there was full agreement between the two German Reformers:

Fifteenth, we all believe and hold concerning the Supper of our dear Lord Jesus Christ that both kinds [bread and wine] should be used according to the institution by Christ; also that the Sacrament of the Altar is a sacrament of the true body and blood of Jesus Christ and that the spiritual partaking of the same body and blood is especially necessary for every Christian. Similarly, that the use of the sacrament, like the word, has been given and ordained by God Almighty in order that weak consciences may thereby be excited to faith by the Holy Spirit. And although at this time, we have not reached an agreement as to whether the true body and blood of Christ are bodily present in the bread and wine, nevertheless, each side should show Christian love to the other side insofar as conscience will permit and both sides should diligently pray to Almighty God that through his Spirit he might confirm us in the right understanding.3

Here we see Zwingli, as well as Luther, affirming that the Lord’s Supper is vital for the Christian life, for it is a means by which the Holy Spirit strengthens believers’ faith. Sadly, the final remark regarding the demonstration of Christian love failed to materialize.

Legacy of Division

Ultimately, Luther refused to recognize the Swiss Reformer as a genuine Christian, and thus their division remained unhealed. After the colloquy, Luther concluded that Zwingli was a “perverted” man who had no part of Christ and was “seven times worse than when he was a papist”!4

As Philip of Hesse feared, Roman Catholic princes took advantage of this division. Two years later, in October of 1531, some seven thousand Roman Catholic soldiers attacked the canton of Zurich. Zwingli marched out to meet them at Kappel, where he and around five hundred other Protestants were slain on the battlefield. The Roman Catholic troops had been confident that the German Lutheran princes would not support Zwingli, and thus the boldness of their attack on Zurich. When Luther heard of Zwingli’s end, he was his blunt self: Zwingli had died “in great sin and blasphemy.”5

The division between these two German-speaking men of God and its sad legacy is a sobering reminder of the danger of dividing over issues that cannot be biblically demonstrated as being primary. When facing Christian division — and our day is equally filled with vitriol and misunderstanding between believers — we all still need to pray the prayer that Zwingli uttered before the beginning of that famous colloquy at Marburger Schloss:

Fill us, O Lord and Father of us all, we beseech Thee, with thy gentle Spirit, and dispel on both sides all the clouds of misunderstanding and passion.

http://rss.desiringgod.org/link/10732/15797662/how-to-not-return-evil-for-evil

Audio Transcript

Can we make ourselves more holy if we treat our bodies more harshly? A great question from a listener named Garrett in Houston, Texas. “Pastor John, hello! I’ve recently been studying the life of St. Anthony through a book by Athanasius. I’m curious about your thoughts on asceticism, a practice of many Christians throughout the church age. Is this a biblical way to live and pursue holiness? Does it work? Is it biblical to hold such rigid self-discipline? I ask because of Colossians 2:23, where Paul defines ‘asceticism’ as ‘severity to the body,’ and that practice being ‘of no value in stopping the indulgence of the flesh’ (Colossians 2:23). What are your thoughts on the place of asceticism in the Christian life today?”

When Garrett says, “Is it biblical to hold such rigid self-discipline?” I don’t know what the word such refers to because I’m not familiar enough with the life of St. Anthony to pass judgment on his pattern of asceticism. So, let me just speak more generally, especially from the text of Colossians, because I think that’s what he’s really getting at. Is there a legitimate place for severity to the body called asceticism?

Self-Denial Gone Wrong

Whenever we hear the apostle Paul criticizing some teaching or warning against some practice, we have to kind of piece together from what he says what the false teachers are saying, like listening to one end of a phone conversation. That’s what we’re up against in Colossians.

There was some kind of false teaching going on that Paul was very concerned about, and it involved some kind of asceticism, some kind of severity to the body. It seemed to involve special visions — “worship of angels,” he mentions (Colossians 2:18) — and the insistence upon certain religious holy days (Colossians 2:16). And it seems that there are clusters of very basic rules — “elemental principles” he calls them (Colossians 2:8, 20) — being forced upon the church so that, if you don’t follow these ascetic rules about food and drink and days and visions and angels, you’re not a Christian.

Now, Paul’s main criticism of what was happening is that it diminished Christ: Christ, the all-supplying Head of the church (Colossians 2:19); Christ, the Creator of the world (Colossians 1:16); Christ, the one who upholds all things (Colossians 1:17); Christ, supreme over all things (Colossians 1:18). The whole system of this false teaching was diminishing Christ in all those ways.

So, let me read some texts, and let’s listen for those kinds of false teachings.

Merely Human Traditions

First, Colossians 2:8:

See to it that no one takes you captive by philosophy and empty deceit, according to human tradition, according to elemental [principles] of the world, and not according to Christ.

Now, we’ll see what those elemental principles are in just a moment. But notice: the problem here is that these merely human traditions and these basic religious elemental principles are replacing Christ. It says, “not holding fast to Christ,” “not exalting Christ,” “not living according to Christ.”

Forgetting the Head

Now, Colossians 2:16–19:

Therefore let no one pass judgment on you in questions of food and drink, or with regard to a festival or a new moon or a Sabbath. These are a shadow of the things to come, but the substance belongs to Christ. [Like a body casting a shadow, Christ is the body and the shadow is all those things that are being exalted above Christ.] Let no one disqualify you, insisting on asceticism and worship of angels, going on in detail about visions, puffed up without reason by his sensuous mind, and not holding fast to the Head.

So again, we see that the issue is not holding fast to Christ. What he’s being replaced with is food, drink, festival, new moon, Sabbath. And since asceticism is mentioned, probably the reference to food and drink means, “Don’t eat them; don’t drink them,” rather than, “You must eat them; you must drink them.” Either way, the elemental rules are replacing the way of Christ.

Puffed-Up Ascetics

Then one more text. Colossians 2:20–23:

If with Christ you died to the elemental spirits of the world, why, as if you were still alive in the world, do you submit to regulations — [and I think these are the elemental principles he’s concerned about:] “Do not handle, Do not taste, Do not touch” (referring to things that all perish as they are used) — according to human precepts and teachings? These have indeed an appearance of wisdom in promoting self-made religion and asceticism and a severity to the body, but they are of no value in stopping the indulgence of the flesh.

So there you get something of a picture of the false teaching in Colossae involving worship of angels, visions, severity to the body by abstaining from certain foods and drinks, keeping certain religious holidays, following these elemental principles and rules — “Do not handle, Do not taste, Do not touch.” Twice we’ve heard Paul say that the problem is that these are not “according to Christ” — you are not “holding fast to the Head.” All the other defects with this false teaching about asceticism and severity to the body, all of them are of “no value in stopping the indulgence of the flesh.”

Killing Sin or Feeding Sin?

So, this false teaching at Colossae is failing in two ways: one, it isn’t glorifying Christ, and two, it isn’t defeating sin. It’s producing puffed-up Christians, and it is diminishing Christ.

So here’s the issue with asceticism. Asceticism has a legitimate place in the Christian life, as does the thankful enjoyment of food and drink that God gives us. Eating and drinking can become gluttony with a loss of self-control, and not eating and drinking can become boastful and Christ-diminishing. That was happening at Colossae.

“Is Christ being exalted or is self being exalted? Is asceticism killing sin or feeding sin?”

So the question is not simply, Do you eat or don’t you eat? Do you drink or don’t you drink? Do you sleep or don’t you sleep? Do you deny yourself certain legitimate pleasures or don’t you? That’s not the main question. The main questions are, Is Christ being exalted or is self being exalted? While crucifying the sin of gluttony, are you feeding the sin of pride? Is asceticism killing sin or feeding sin? Those are the key questions.

Godly Asceticism

We can’t just say that asceticism is bad because the false teachers at Colossae were using it. Paul himself and Jesus taught that we should make sure by self-denial that we are not being enslaved by any good thing. For example, Paul says in 1 Corinthians 9:25–27, “Every athlete exercises self-control in all things. . . . So I do not run aimlessly; I do not box as one beating the air. But I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified.” And the word discipline there means “give my body a black eye.” I mean, this is a pretty strong word, sometimes translated “I pummel my body.” In other words, Paul is hard on his body when he needs to be hard on his body in order to protect himself against sin and unbelief.

And then, in 1 Corinthians 6:12, he says, “‘All things are lawful for me,’ but I will not be dominated [or controlled or enslaved] by anything.” In other words, the issue is not that food and drink or other legitimate pleasures are sinful, but that we ought not to be enslaved or dominated or controlled by anything — good or evil. Part of the strategy by which we discern whether we are enslaved is self-denial — called asceticism, if you wish. And so, Jesus said, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me” (Luke 9:23). In other words, we dare not treat all asceticism as bad. And of course, we should not treat God’s good gifts — of food and drink and friendship and marriage and hundreds of other delights in this life — as evil.

“Deny yourself in order to defeat sinful bondage and show that the Giver is more precious to you than the gift.”

Paul was probably warning against the same false teaching of Colossae when he wrote 1 Timothy 4:4: “Everything created by God is good, and nothing is to be rejected if it is received with thanksgiving, for it is made holy by the word of God and prayer.”

Enjoy and Deny

So, one way to sum up things would be to say, one, we will glorify Christ if we receive his good gifts with thankfulness, which shows that he’s the good and generous Savior. And two, we will glorify Christ by strategically denying ourselves some of his good gifts in order to show that he, and not his gifts, is our greatest treasure. And the problem of the false teaching at Colossae was that severity to the body was being put into elemental principles or rules that, instead of exalting the worth and beauty and grace of Christ, were feeding the ego of the ascetics. This calls for great wisdom and insight into our own hearts.

So, two guidelines to close:

Enjoy God’s good gifts with thankfulness to make much of him and his grace and his generosity.
Deny yourself in order to defeat sinful bondage and show that the Giver is more precious to you than the gift.