Martin Bucer: The Reformation’s Own Chesterton

Martin Bucer was a man loved by all. He was a man who won friends wherever he turned, but only because it was his nature to make friends. He loved people. He loved the church fathers. He loved beer. He upheld the faith once for all given to the saints, and he upheld it with a smile. Bucer’s life was so laced with joyful orthodoxy that Roman Catholic historian Hilaire Belloc was forced to say in his book Characters of the Reformation, “I shall not touch upon the life and influence of Bucer lest the malleable reader come to believe that the Reformation had its own Chesterton.”

His Life

Born in Alsatia in 1491, Martin Bucer was the son of a poor cobbler. He was sent to a Latin school, and received a fine education. He became a proficient musician and painter, and acquired a knack in French cuisine. Eager to learn more, he entered the Dominican monastery at age sixteen. It wasn’t that he wanted to be a monk; showing early signs of Reformed thought, he viewed their self-sufficient works of righteousness as filthy rags, which were more to be repented of than embraced. Instead, it was the Dominican Order’s thorough education that attracted him.

Bucer learned much under the tutelage of the Dominicans. In fact, he showed such a keen intellect and astute reason that many monks said, “He will one day be the ornament of our order.” In 1517 the monks, desiring to utilize the great capacity of Bucer’s mind, sent Bucer to Heidelberg to study philosophy, theology, Greek, and Hebrew.

While there, some curious books from some curious fellows named Erasmus and Luther wound their ways through the hallowed halls. Bucer read them as soon as he could get his hands on them, and they started him thinking. He compared their writings to Scripture, and began to see some errors in the pope’s religion. Eager to learn more, Bucer jumped at the chance to hear Luther when he came to Heidelberg in 1518. Luther preached, Bucer’s heart leaped, and he almost instantly became a leading Protestant thinker.

For the next few years, Bucer preached variously in Heidelberg, Landstuhl, and Wissembourg. He particularly tried to win Wissembourg to Protestantism, but there was great opposition from the Roman Catholics, and he instead won the heart of an ex-nun, itself no small achievement. Bucer swept Elizabeth Silbereisen off to Strasbourg, leading Erasmus to say the Reformation was not so much a tragedy as a comedy because it always ended in a wedding.

In 1523, Bucer began pastoring the largest church in Strasbourg. During a 25-year ministry, Bucer preached the Word, revised the liturgy, established schools, wrote books, and cared for his flock. He maintained an enormous correspondence with all of the Reformers, and welcomed people into his home. He was able to work for unity in high debates between Luther and Zwingli, but also to instill serenity during morning walks among the butcher and the refugee. His vast labors brought praise from John Calvin: “Bucer is the most humble man I have ever known with the least warrant to be so. His gifts to the church are to be valued above all that the century prior had yet produced.”

Bucer’s work in Strasbourg didn’t last until death, however. In 1548 the Interim of the Diet of Augsburg was imposed on Germany, which severely limited the freedom Protestants had in the nation. He was forced to flee Strasbourg, and he traveled to England at the request of Thomas Cranmer. He was made Professor of Divinity at Cambridge and wrote a revised Common Book of Prayer in 1551. Shortly thereafter, he died at age 60, saying, “The Lord, the Lord alone, rules and disposes all things.”

Bloody Mary exhumed and burned his bones in 1556, but Good Queen Bess arose to the throne, and his ashes received a proper burial once again.

His Influence

Bucer has been largely forgotten by historians for a variety of reasons. For one, he never wrote anything original; all of his work was derivative and imitative. Bucer himself once quipped, “I have never had an original thought.” Another reason historians probably forget him is because he was too stinkin’ happy to be a faithful Reformer. They mutter things under their breath about friendship with the world and enmity with God, and dismiss him as just another ex-monk who didn’t know what he was missing.

But really, these are the things Bucer is to be treasured most for. He viewed originality as a great danger, because true doctrine had already been loudly proclaimed by the early church fathers. He wanted to escape from the Romish errors, but he didn’t view a new soteriology or ecclesiology as the solution; instead, he wanted a return to the age-old doctrines of the fathers, which the Romans had trodden on by their originality. Bucer recognized that the church is always reforming, and that the early church had its faults, but he refused to throw the ecclesiastical baby out with the bathwater.

Bucer particularly desired to preserve the liturgy of the early church fathers. He worried that the Reformers would get everything right about doctrine, but that they would lose the glory and beauty of the church manifest in worship. He studied the liturgy of Chrysostom and others, and quickly replaced the mass in Strasbourg with a Biblical liturgy. He introduced a confession of sin, a sermon in the language of the people, and weekly communion that included the laity. He wrote hymns and established congregational singing of hymns and Psalms, and he aided Cranmer in his liturgical Reforms in England. Bucer wanted order in worship, breath-taking order, and he saw this glory in the liturgy of the early church.

How he loved the church! He loved the history and he loved the worship, but most fundamentally, he loved the people. Bucer would walk through the town every morning, greeting the people and encouraging them. He would frequently tell stories about his flock, revealing his great fondness for them. He would laugh and laugh at the little children. He and Elizabeth would welcome refugees into their home, cooking them fine meals and nursing them to health. The mutual love he shared with his people led Thomas Chalmers to note, “He was universally liked. Jolly, urbane, gracious, selfless, and genuinely affable, he engendered in others affection and confidence. He was the great bridge-builder of the Reformation.”

Bucer loved his fellow Reformers. He maintained a correspondence of colossal proportions, so much so that it became a sport to guess how many letters Martin Bucer wrote every day. Bucer would counsel the likes of Calvin and Luther, and tell of his experiences and joys in Strasbourg. Such a voluminous writer was he that Luther called him a chatterbox while Edward V said he was a windbag. Yet Bucer loved the Reformers in works as well as words. He welcomed Calvin into his home after he was cast out of Strasbourg, and there he taught Calvin much about theology and pastoring a church. He accompanied Luther during his great trial at the Diet of Worms. Farel remarked, “Bucer made of the city of Strasbourg a sanctuary and a nursery for the Reformation so that those tender plants wounded by the storms of controversy might find their hope for the future, their nurture, their care, and ultimately their resolve.”

Bucer loved his family. He married Elizabeth in Wissembourg and cherished her until her death to the plague in 1541. Bucer once said to Luther: “Wives are good things. All that is evil in us and prone to destruction they will ameliorate. Sometimes to my great irritation, but always with marvelous satisfaction.” “Live well in the bosom of repentance; this marriage has taught me well.” He loved his wife dearly, and she was also loved by many for her hospitality. The Bucer home was known as “the inn of righteousness” because of the wonderful aroma of love and care she filled it with. She bore him thirteen children, and they were a great delight to him. He was truly a family man.

Bucer balanced his extensive labors and loves by a wondrous vision for what he called parish life. He saw God’s hand guiding the events of his time, and this gave him marvelous assurance and confidence. He didn’t see the great problems and struggles of the church as problems; rather, he saw them as just another matter to work diligently and solve. He understood, in the words of Chesterton, “An inconvenience is only an adventure wrongly considered.” He also saw that Christian life was filled not only with obstacles to overcome, but also with more joyful aspects: food, music, friends, and beer. He knew that the righteous Christian is a joyful Christian, and the pleasantries of life are to be embraced. He lived with the knowledge that all of life is from God, and it should all be lived with joy, both the trials and the thrills.

In short, Bucer was a Christian. His was a life full of the grace of Christ, and he worked hard to enjoy its fruits. “The model of an evangelical balance between beauty, goodness, and dogma,” remarked Abraham Kuyper, “Bucer was unflinchingly Reformed, unstintingly kind, and unquestionably cultured.” He thought through everything deeply, and he merged this with joviality of heart. He worked hard at his church, and he loved and enjoyed his flock. He was truly a man alive, and we would all do well to follow his example.

Related Links
    Seventh Annual History Conference 2002, featuring George Grant on Bucer
    The Reform of Worship at Strasbourg

    The Liturgy of the Word at Strasbourg
    Bucer’s Eucharistic Liturgy