The Second Reformation in Brandenburg

The Berliner Dom with its 1736 facade

As I, along with many others, continue to chip away at the Lutheran Missal Project, we spend a great deal of time with PDFs of liturgical books from the late fifteenth through the early seventeenth centuries. Spending a substantial amount of time in the missal or service book of any diocese is something like acquainting yourself with a pen pal. It isn’t nearly the same as being present, but you can gain both a sense of the scribe’s scrupulous (or lackadaisical) nature, as well as a sense of the priorities and peculiarities of each diocese or region.

The 1506 missal of Cammin, for example, seems to provide processions before mass for every conceivable day of the year. The Prague missal of 1498 provides detailed instructions throughout that everyone else takes for granted, and the 1491 missal from Lebus loses no opportunity to distance itself from Brandenburg, its larger and more influential neighbor. The Lutheran sources, too, have their fair share of diversity. The missal and office books for the Lutheran Cathedral of Havelberg, compiled by Matthäus Ludecus, provide for Sundays and major feasts in a very orderly fashion, holding very tightly to pre-Reformation precedents. In contrast, the Lutheran use of the Cathedral in Magdeburg is perhaps best described as highly eclectic, but exceptionally thorough.

After spending some time with multiple primary sources, and then further time comparing and analyzing them in regard to something like the Friday Epistles in Advent, you can begin to gain a sense of not only diocesan particularities, but ranges of influence and groups of affinity that hold together again and again. For instance, the northeastern Germanic dioceses that were among the most liturgically conservative after the Reformation already formed a distinct bloc, liturgically speaking, at the beginning of the sixteenth century. They also form a distinct subset of the northern European weekday lectionary tradition, together with parts of Scandinavia and the Baltics. Over the last few years of research, I have formed a certain fondness for and interest in Brandenburg and Magdeburg, both of which have not only thoroughly cataloged medieval uses, but also readily available post-Reformation liturgical sources.

And so it was with particular delight that I finally picked up and began to read a book that I’ve had on the shelf for quite some time - Prince, People, and Confession: The Second Reformation in Brandenburg by Bodo Nischan. He begins by laying out the historical and theological circumstances surrounding the relatively late and quite conservative Reformation that took place in Brandenburg beginning under Elector Joachim II. It seems, in fact, to have been one of the most conservative reforms in the German portion of the conservative reformation. It was, however, disrupted by the advent of Calvinist influence in the court of Johann Sigismund at the beginning of the seventeenth century. The book primarily focuses on the conflict and consternation that ensued when the elector and his court sought to force the Calvinist faith on a populace that was quite resolutely attached to Lutheran faith and practice.

One episode in particular is illustrative. In March of 1615, two weeks before Easter, Margrave Johann Georg had the Berliner Dom (see above) stripped bare, with all epitaphs, crucifixes, pictures, altars, and the baptismal font removed, leaving only a table in the choir. The crucifix that had hung above the entry to the choir “was ripped down, hacked into pieces, and thrown into the Spree River.” (185) The following week, at the nine o’clock service on Palm Sunday, a Calvinist court preacher “offered thanks to God Almighty for cleansing His house of worship of the dirt of papal idolatry.” (186)

But the story does not end there. One of the striking things about Brandenburg is not just the wanton destruction of images by Calvinists, but the strong reaction of the people. By noon on that same Palm Sunday, three hours after the aforementioned sermon, a Lutheran deacon by the name of Peter Stuler was delivering a blistering response, saying: “They strip our churches of pictures and now wish to tear the Lord Jesus Christ from our hearts as well.” (186) As you might imagine, the situation did not exactly dissipate, but continued to increase in intensity, which was stoked even further on Monday when Stuler ran up and down the streets, shouting that “he might lose his head because of his sermon.” (187) By evening, a crowd of some 500 had gathered to defend Stuler’s house, though, as time went on, they grew more unruly and moved to the homes of prominent Calvinists, including the court preacher who had preached the previous day. Eventually the huge crowd turned into a full scale riot, and when the margrave arrived with twenty troops to disperse the crowd, it only served to increase the size of the crowd to nearly 700. The margrave instigated utter chaos by drawing his pistol and firing into the crowd, then eventually retreated, and the Calvinist court preacher whose sermon the day before had set this chain of events in motion saw his house ransacked.

There are many incidents like this related throughout Nischan’s book, and the above paragraphs are a condensation of four very vivid pages that lose a great deal in the retelling. I would highly recommend it, as it gives a very specific, localized picture of how Lutherans in a particular time and place related to both challenges from Roman Catholics and from the Reformed. In addition to an abundance of primary sources, Nischan is a gifted writer, and it makes for very engaging reading.

This work also serves to demonstrate just how dearly the Lutheran populace of this area held their faith and worship - in the days following the events recounted above, something like martial law was enforced within the city in an effort to keep the peace during Holy Week. These stories also give new life and color to the missals and church orders that have become familiar to me and to those others who work in this arena. The Lutherans of these times and places took great care to document the proper readings, rites, and rituals for their churches and cathedrals, all the while under threat from Calvinists and Counter-Reformation forces alike. They understood that their worship was a public confession of their faith to the world, an affront to Romanists and Reformed alike; that it was something worth fighting for because it was a confession of the truth.