by Max Weber
242) It is therefore carefully analyzed into its symptoms (op. cit., p. 380). The reason why “sloth” and “idleness” are such egregious sins is that they are continuous in character. Baxter sees them as “destructive of the state of grace” (op. cit., pp. 279–80). They are the very antithesis of methodical life.
243) See above, vol. 20, p. 41, note 2.
244) Baxter, op. cit., vol. 1, pp. 108ff. The following passages in particular stand out: Question: But will not wealth excuse us? Answer: It may excuse you from some sordid sort of work, by making you more serviceable to another, but you are no more excused from service of work . . . than the poorest man. . . . See also op. cit., vol 1, p. 376: “Though they (the rich) have no outward want to urge them, they have as great a necessity to obey God. . . . God hath strictly commanded it (work) to all.
245) Similarly Spener (op. cit., vol. 3, pp. 338, 425), who for this reason is opposed to the tendency to take early retirement, seeing it as morally questionable; he stresses that anyone who can live off interest nevertheless has a duty to work, since God commands this. His objection to the taking of interest thus differs from that which is based on the argument that it leads to idleness.
246) Including Pietism. On the question of a change of occupation, Spener always takes the view that once a particular occupation has been embarked upon, one has a duty to remain in it and to accept it out of obedience to God’s providence.
247) Baxter, op. cit., p. 377.
248) But not necessarily historically derived from it. In fact, the motivation expresses the authentic Calvinist idea that the cosmos of the “world” serves the glory of God, his self-glorification. The utilitarian version, that the economic cosmos should serve the purpose of the “good of the many, common good, etc.,” is a consequence of the idea that any other interpretation leads to (aristocratic) idolatry, or that it serves not God’s glory, but carnal “cultural purposes.” God’s will, however, as expressed (see above) [note 84 in this edition] in the purposeful formation of the economic cosmos, can only, to the extent that thisworldly purposes are considered at all, be the good of the “whole,” that is, impersonal utility. Utilitarianism is, as we have already said, a consequence of the impersonal application of “love of one’s neighbor,” and the rejection of all glorification of the world thanks to the exclusivity of the Puritan principle of “in majorem Dei gloriam.” Any glorification of the creature is detrimental to God’s glory and therefore absolutely reprehensible. The extent to which this idea dominated the whole of ascetic Protestantism is clearly shown in Spener’s misgivings, and in the effort that it cost this by no means “democratically” inclined man, to stand by the use of titles of “αδηαφορον” [a matter of individual conscience] in the face of numerous queries. In the end, he consoles himself with the thought that even in the Bible the Praetor Festus is addressed as “κρατηστοζ.” [NEB has “Your Excellency”; AV: “most noble Festus,” Acts 26.25] The political aspect of this matter will be dealt with at a later stage.
249) Thomas Adams also says: “The inconstant man is a stranger in his own house” (Works of the Puritan Divines, p. 77).
250) On this, see especially George Fox’s writings in The Friends’ Library (edited by William and Thomas Evans, Philadelphia, 1837, vol. 1, p. 130).
251) For as Puritan literature very often emphasizes, God never commanded that we should love our neighbour more than ourselves, but as ourselves. There is therefore a duty to love oneself. Anyone who knows, for instance, that he uses his wealth more wisely, and hence more to the glory of God, than his neighbor could, is not bound by love of his neighbor to share it with him.
252) Spener himself comes close to this point of view. But even in the case of a change from commerce (particularly morally dangerous) to theology, he remains extremely cautious and is inclined to advise against it (op. cit., vol. 3, pp. 435, 443; vol. 1, p. 524). The frequent recurrence of answers to precisely this question (regarding whether it is permissible to change one’s calling) in Spener’s published responses, which were of course closely studied, shows, incidentally, the eminently practical importance of the interpretation of 1 Corinthians 7 [Editors’ note: “remain in the condition in which you were called”].
253) This kind of thing certainly cannot be found among the leading continental Pietists, at least not in their writings. Spener’s attitude to “profit” switches back and forth between Lutheranism (“subsistence” standpoint) and mercantilist arguments about the utility of the “flower of commerce” and the like (op. cit., vol. 3, pp. 330, 332; compare vol. 1, p. 418: tobacco cultivation brings money into the country and is useful for that reason, and therefore not sinful!); (compare vol. 3, pp. 426–27, 429, 434). However, he does not fail to indicate, pointing to the example of the Quakers and the Mennonites, that it is possible to make a profit and still remain virtuous, indeed, that a particularly high level of profit could be the direct product of religious probity (op. cit., p. 435). We shall have more to say about this later.
254) In Baxter’s writings, these views are not a reflection of the economic climate in which he lived. On the contrary, in his autobiography he underlines that one of the factors crucial to the success of his domestic missionary work was that those traders who were based in Kidderminster were not rich, but only earned “food and raiment” and that the masters were obliged to live “from hand to mouth,” just like their workers. “It is the poor that receive the glad tidings of the Gospel.”
On the subject of striving after profit, Thomas Adams remarks: “He (the knowing man) knows . . . that money may make a man richer, not better, and thereupon chooseth rather to sleep with a good conscience than a full purse . . . therefore desires no more wealth than an honest man may bear away”—but that much he does want (Thomas Adams, Works of the Puritan Divines, p. 11).
255) Thus Baxter, op. cit., vol. 1, chap. 10, title 1, dist. 9 (par. 24); vol. 1, p. 378, col. 2. In Proverbs 23.4: “labor not to be rich” means only: riches for our fleshly ends must not ultimately be intended. It is not wealth in itself but wealth in its feudal and seigneurial form of use that is odious (compare the remark, op. cit., vol. 1, p. 380, regarding the “debauched part of the gentry”).
In his first “Defensio par populo Anglicano,” Milton propounded the well-known theory that only the “middle class” [Mittelstand] could be the bearer of virtue—“middle class” being here used in the sense of “bourgeois” [bürgerliche Klasse] as opposed to “aristocracy,” as we see from his contention that “luxury” as well as need was an obstacle to the exercise of virtue.
256) This is the crucial point. I should like to make a general comment here. We are not, of course, concerned here with developments in theological ethical theory, but with what was the prevailing morality in the practical life of the faithful, and how the religious orientation of the ethic of the calling was worked out in practice. In the casuist literature of Catholicism, especially that of the Jesuits, one can occasionally read discussions—for example, on the question of the permissibility of interest, which we shall discuss in a later chapter—which sound very similar to those of many Protestant casuists, indeed, which appear to exceed them in the question of what is regarded as “permitted” or “tolerated.” [Editors’ note: In fact there is no later chapter.] Just as the Calvinists are wont to quote the Catholic moral theologians, and not only Thomas Aquinas, Bernard of Clairvaux, or Bonaventura, but also contemporaries, so did the Catholic casuists regularly take note of the heretical ethic. (We can only mention this in passing.) The tremendous difference, however, is this. These latitudinarian views in Catholicism were the products of particularly lax ethical theories that were not sanctioned by the ecclesiastical authorities, and the most serious and strict church members distanced themselves from them. By contrast, the Protestant idea of the calling placed the most serious devotees of the ascetic life in the service of capitalist commerce [Erwerbsleben]. What in the one case could be permitted under certain conditions appeared in
the other as something which was positively morally good. The fundamental differences between the two types of ethic, which were very important in practice, became finally established with the Jansenist dispute and the bull “Unigenitus.”
257) The passage quoted in the text above is followed by the words: “You may labor in the manner as tendeth most to your success and lawful gain. You are bound to improve all your talents.” Direct parallels between striving for riches in the kingdom of God and the striving for success in an earthly calling are found, for example, in Janeway, Heaven upon Earth (Works of the Puritan Divines, p. 275, bottom).
258) As early as the (Lutheran) Confession of Duke Christoph of Württemberg, which was submitted to the Council of Trent, the following argument against the vow of poverty was put forward: Anyone who is poor because of his estate must endure it, but if he takes a vow to remain so, this is the same as if he vowed to be continually sick or to have a bad reputation.
259) Thus in Baxter and also, for instance, in the Confession of Duke Christoph. Compare also passages such as “. . . the vagrant rogues whose lives are nothing but an exorbitant course: the main begging” (Thomas Adams, Works of the Puritan Divines, p. 259).
260) The president of the Baptist Union of Great Britain and Ireland, George White, emphasized in his inaugural address to the Assembly in London in 1903 (Baptist Handbook, 1904, p. 104): “The best men on the roll of our Puritan churches were men of affairs, who believed that religion should permeate the whole of life.”
261) It is precisely here that the characteristic antithesis to all feudal attitudes lies. According to the latter, only the descendants of the (political or social) nouveaux riches can benefit from their success and become part of the bloodline. (Characteristically expressed in the Spanish as “Hidalgo,” meaning hijo d’algo or filius alicuius.) These differences are now fading as a consequence of the rapid transformation and Europeanization of the American “national character” [Volkscharakter], but the very opposite bourgeois [bürgerlich] view, which glorifies business success and profit [Erwerb] as a symptom of spiritual achievement, but has no respect for mere (inherited) wealth, is very much at home there. By contrast, in Europe—as James Bryce once remarked—in effect almost any social honor may be bought, provided only that the owner has never stood behind the counter himself and carries through the necessary transformation of his property (charitable foundation, etc.).
For a statement of opposition to the aristocracy of the blood, see, for example, Thomas Adams, Works of the Puritan Divines, p. 216.
262) For example, for the founder of the “familist” sect [Familisten-Sekte], Hendrik Niklaes, who was a merchant (Barclay, Inner Life of the Religious Communities of the Commonwealth, p. 34).
263) This is certainly true, for instance, for Hoornbeek, since even in Matthew 5.5 and 1 Timothy 4.8, purely earthly promises are made for the saints (op. cit., vol. 1, p. 193). Everything is a product of God’s providence, but he takes special care of his own (op. cit., p. 192): “Super alios autem summa cura et modis singularissimis versatur Dei providentia circa fideles.” The question is then discussed regarding how one can tell when a piece of good fortune does not come from “communis providentia” but from that special care. Bailey (op. cit., p. 191) also attributes the success of work in a calling to God’s providence. The idea that prosperity is “often” the reward for a God-fearing life is commonplace in Quaker writings (see, for instance, the report in the “Selection from the Christian Advices” of 1848, issued by the General Meeting of the Society of Friends in London (6th ed., London, 1851, p. 209). We shall return later to the links with the Quaker ethic.
264) A good example of this orientation by the patriarchs—which is also characteristic of the Puritan attitude toward life—is Thomas Adams’s analysis of the dispute between Jacob and Esau (in Works of the Puritan Divines, p. 235): “His (Esau’s) folly may be argued from the base estimation of the birthright” (this passage is also important for the development of the idea of the birthright, of which more later) “that he would so lightly pass from it and on so easy condition as a pottage.” It was perfidious of him that he then refused to accept the validity of the purchase on the grounds that he had been tricked. He is simply a “cunning hunter, a man of the fields”—an example of the uncultured man living an irrational life—while Jacob, “a plain man, dwelling in tents,” represents the “man of grace.”
265) Zur bäuerlichen Glaubens- und Sittenlehre. Von einem thürin-gischen Landpfarrer (2nd ed., Gotha, 1890, p. 16). The peasants depicted here are typical products of Lutheran church life. I constantly wrote “Lutheran” in the margin, where the excellent author sees only general “peasant” religiosity.
266) Compare, for example, the quotation in Ritschl, Pietismus, vol. 2, p. 158. Spener also bases his doubts about changing one’s occupation and striving for profit partly on sayings in Ecclesiasticus (Theologische Bedenken, vol. 3, p. 426).
267) True, Bailey still recommends that it should be read, and quotations from the Apocrypha do occasionally appear, although rarely. I do not happen to recall a single one from Ecclesiasticus [Jesus Sirach].
268) Where outward success is given to those who are obviously reprobate, the Calvinist (e.g., Hoornbeek) consoles himself with the “theory of hardening of hearts,” according to which God grants success to such people in order to harden their hearts and thus damn them with even greater certainty.
269) We shall return to a more detailed discussion of this point in a different context later. What interests us here is simply the formalist character of “legality.”
270) According to Baxter (Christian Directory, vol. 3, pp. 173f.), the ethical norms of the Scriptures are binding only in as far as they (1) are merely a “transcript” of the law of nature, or (2) bear within them the “express character of universality and perpetuity.”
271) For example, Dowden (with reference to Bunyan), op. cit., p. 39.
272) This is not the place to analyze the tremendous influence exercised by, in particular, the second commandment (“Thou shalt not make thee any graven image!” etc.) on the development of the rational character of Judaism, which is alien to the culture of the senses. It is, however, symptomatic, that one of the leaders of the “Educational Alliance” in the United States, an organization which undertakes the “Americanization” of Jewish immigrants with astonishing success and lavish resources, told me that the first aim of the “civilizing” process [Kulturmenschwerdung], which it tries to achieve by means of all kinds of artistic and social instruction, was “emancipation from the second commandment.”
The Israelite taboo against any humanization of God [Gottvermenschlichung] (sit venia verbo!) is paralleled by the Puritan ban on the deification of the creature which, though differing in some respects, is nevertheless broadly similar. Undoubtedly, numerous key features of Puritan morality are also related to talmudic Judaism. The Talmud, for example (as in Wünsche, Der Babylonysche Talmud in seinen haggadischen Bestandteilen, Leipzig, 1886–89, vol. 2, p. 34), stresses that it is better, and more richly rewarded by God, to do good as a duty, than to do it when one is not legally compelled to. In other words: to do one’s duty without love is on an ethically higher plane than philanthropy carried out with feeling. The Puritan ethic would find this acceptable, just as Kant, who was Scottish by descent, and whose upbringing was strongly influenced by Pietism, finally comes close to the same principle. (Incidentally, a great deal of his phraseology is directly linked with the ideas of ascetic Protestantism. We cannot pursue this question further at this point.) The talmudic ethic, however, is steeped in Oriental traditionalism: “Rabbi Tanchum ben Cha-nilai said: No man should should ever alter a custom” (Gemara to Mishna, vol. 7, 1. 86b, no. 93 in Wünsche): the subject is the feeding of day laborers, only strangers were exempt from this obligation.
However, as compared with the Jewish view of it as simply obedience to a commandment, the Puritan view of “legality” as testing [Bewährung] evidently provided a s
tronger motive for positive action. At this point we can do no more than mention the huge change undergone by the inner attitude to the world as a result of the Christian version of the ideas of “grace” and “redemption,” which always concealed within it the seeds of possible new developments. On the Old Testament concept of “legality,” compare Ritschl, Rechtfertigung und Versöhnung, vol. 2, p. 265.
273) For Baxter, the truth of the Holy Scriptures is derived from the “wonderful difference of the godly and ungodly,” the absolute otherness of the “renewed man,” and from the evidently quite specific concern of God for the salvation of the souls of his own people (something which, of course, can also be expressed in “testing” [Prüfungen]) (Christian Directory, vol. 1, p. 165, col. 2, margin).
274) As an illustration of this point, one only has to read Bunyan’s tortuous interpretation of the parable of the Pharisee and the Publican (see the sermon The Pharisee and the Publican, op. cit., pp. 100f.). (At times, Bunyan seems to have an affinity with Luther’s “Freedom of a Christian Man,” for example, in Of the Law and a Christian, Works of the Puritan Divines, p. 254, bottom). What is the Pharisee accused of? He does not truly keep God’s commandments, for he is clearly a sectarian, concerned only with outward trivialities and ceremonies (p. 107); most of all, however, he ascribes the merit to himself, and yet, “as the Quakers do,” taking God’s name in vain, he gives thanks to God that he is so virtuous, sinfully relying on the worth of this virtue (p. 126), and thereby implicitly calling into question God’s election by grace (pp. 139f.). His prayer is thus idolatry and that is what is sinful about it. The Publican, on the other hand, as the sincerity of his confession shows, is inwardly reborn, since—as Bunyan puts it with a characteristically Puritan lessening of the Lutheran feeling of sinfulness—“to a right and sincere conviction of sin, there must be a conviction of the probability of mercy” (p. 209).