Introduction by Martin Lohrmann

A work like the Passional Christi und Antichristi can seem to reinforce the image of the Reformation as a partisan shouting match based upon mutual animosity, slander, and attack. The work itself grants such a critique in its conclusion, as it seems to be appalled that things have come to such a desperate point, even as it cannot help but name what appears to the authors to be unmistakably clear and verifiable wrongs on many levels. This introduction, therefore, seeks to explore and explain the rational circumstances that led to such a polarizing work.

The Reformation movement that Luther started with his 95 Theses in late 1517 was not the first to identify corruption with the papacy of the late medieval church. Shaky theology surrounding practices like penance and indulgences, bad behavior by church leaders at the top and bottom of the hierarchy, and institutionalized corruption had inspired critique and reform since the 1300s. The English scholar and priest John Wycliffe (d. 1384 CE), for instance, worked to make the Bible available in English rather than only Latin, publicly challenged corruption in the church, and sought to reform worship practices, especially Holy Communion. Repeatedly rebuffed by the hierarchy in England and Rome, Wycliffe published a list of points comparing the kingdom of Christ with the papacy of his time, which he identified as Antichrist, based on passages in the New Testament and his observations about corruption in the church.

Controversial in his time, Wycliffe was not killed for his views. The same would not be true of a similar reformer, the Bohemian priest Jan Huss (d. 1415 CE). Through political and scholarly channels, Wycliffe’s ideas had come to Prague, where Huss became a strong supporter of ideas like reforming communion practices, using local languages for worship and scripture, and confronting corruption in the church. Corrupt practices of the time included simony (the buying and selling of high positions in the church), absentee priests and bishops, a separate court system for clergy than for regular people, the use of excommunication as a political weapon, and a clear mixing of spiritual leadership and secular power.

Connections between papal authority and secular power had grown so intertwined that a close relationship between the French nobility and the papacy led to the papacy moving from Rome to Avignon for much of the 1300s. When this situation finally grew untenable in the 1370s, a new pope was elected and installed in Rome. Shortly after, French officials installed a rival pope back in Avignon. A church council held in Pisa in 1409 tried to solve the problem by deposing the two existing popes and installing a new one, but that only resulted in now having three popes who each claimed legitimacy. In the next decade, a council in the south German city of Constance effectively ended the controversy by deposing all three and electing Pope Martin V.

Amid these scandals and debates, critique of the church included not only calls for reform but questions about the nature of authority in the church, as well. Many across Europe desired a church led not by a single pope but rather by councils. Such a “conciliarist” view had a New Testament precedent in the meeting between Christ’s apostles held in Jerusalem described in Acts 15. Historically, proponents of conciliarism also found helpful examples in the witness of the early church, for instance, the famous Council of Nicea (325 CE), which was called not by a pope or bishop but by Emperor Constantine as it affirmed Trinitarian theology. While the Council of Constance on one hand upheld a reforming, conciliarist agenda by showing itself able to make decisions over the three would-be popes, it also condemned the teachings of the already-deceased John Wycliffe and of the reformer Jan Huss of Prague. Huss had been summoned to trial by the council and given promises of safe travel. When he was declared a heretic for his sacramental and institutional reforms, however, the council decided that promises of safe passage did not apply to heretics. Huss was executed in Constance on July 6, 1415.

The posthumous condemnation of Wycliffe and the execution of Huss did not, however, stop their ideas. Wycliffe’s movement went underground in England until the English Reformation of the 1500s. In Bohemia, Huss’ teachings had grown so influential that they became the dominant form of Christianity in the region, a reforming church known as the Unitas Fratrum (United Brethren), also called the Bohemian Brethren or the Hussites. Despite the political instability brought by the pope’s excommunication of Hussite kings and leaders in Bohemia, this Czech reform movement continued through the start of Luther’s Reformation. One of Luther’s own early surprises, for instance, came in 1519 when he was accused of being a Hussite, did some research, and found no compelling reason to object to that label.

Along with a larger legacy of protest and reform, the survival of Wycliffe and Huss’ critiques included their specific contrast between Christ’s teaching and the antichristian words and actions of the papacy. The editors of the Weimar edition of Luther’s works have provided ample evidence that Wycliffe’s treatise on the papal Antichrist was known across Europe, especially in Bohemia.¹ Hussite versions on the theme also continued to spread throughout the 1400s, with copies available in places like Saxony, as well. Although a direct link between Wycliffite or Hussite literature and the Passional Christi und Antichristi published in Wittenberg in 1521 cannot be proven, the parallels are clear enough to assume some familiarity and influence.

Even so, accusing one’s adversaries of being the Antichrist is no light thing. In both the early Reformation and medieval precedents, New Testament concepts of antichrist were applied specifically and intentionally. In its narrow sense, the label antichrist refers to an enemy of the faith arising from among the faithful, characterized by teachings and practices that usurp Christ’s place as savior.

The word “antichrist” itself appears in both singular and plural forms in the epistles of 1 John and 2 John in connection with denial of Christ’s divinity. Such enemies of the faith would come from within the community, as 1 John 2:18-19 warns, “Children, it is the last hour, and as you have heard that antichrist is coming, so now many antichrists have come. Therefore we know that it is the last hour. They went out from us, but they were not of us; for if they had been of us, they would have continued with us. But they went out, that it might become plain that they all are not of us.” More than a mere indication of impious or erroneous teaching, 1 and 2 John warn against those who undermine faith in Christ and claim the power to save for themselves.

A similar warning appears in 2 Thessalonians 2, which says, “Let no one deceive you in any way. For that [last] day will not come, unless the rebellion comes first, and the man of lawlessness is revealed, the son of destruction, who opposes and exalts himself against every so-called god or object of worship, so that he takes his seat in the temple of God, proclaiming himself to be God.” Again, the dramatic betrayal of the “man of lawlessness” comes from within the holy community and will be marked by “false signs and wonders,” “wicked deception” and “strong delusion” (2 Thessalonians 2:9-11). Cosmic struggles between God and the devil in Daniel and Revelation also add to the literature about antichrist.

Further, while passages like Matthew 24:5 and 2 Timothy 4:3 predict that some will come with false teachings, 1 Timothy 4:1-3 says specifically that the “deceitful spirits and teachings of demons” will be known by the forbidding of marriage and required abstinence from foods. As the indulgence controversy of the early Reformation escalated into a larger debate about church authority, points like clerical celibacy and fasting practices came under new critique and became part of the reforming agenda. These two issues quickly became specific points of controversy in the early Reformation, as theologians like Luther came to argue from scripture and history against the forced celibacy of clergy and the necessity of fasting for salvation.

Although clerical celibacy had long been a preferred practice in the church, it was not formally required in the Latin West until the Gregorian reforms of the eleventh century and the First and Second Lateran Councils of the twelfth century. Eastern Orthodox communities never required celibacy for their priests. Bartolomäus Bernhardi, a pastor near Wittenberg, was the first in a wave of pastors to get married in 1521 and the following years. Luther himself married Katherina von Bora on June 13, 1525. In addition to influential early works like Luther’s The Babylonian Captivity of the Church and On Monastic Vows (1520 and 1522, respectively), the Lutheran reformers continued to explain their views about clerical celibacy, fasting, and church authority in communal statements of faith like the Augsburg Confession (1530) and the Smalcald Articles (1537), the latter of which connects the prohibition against clerical marriage with antichristian teaching:

They [the papacy] had neither the authority nor the right to forbid marriage and burden the divine estate of priests with perpetual celibacy. Instead, they acted like anti-Christian, tyrannical, wicked scoundrels and thereby gave occasion for all kinds of horrible, abominable, and countless sins of unchastity, in which they are still mired… Therefore we are unwilling to consent to their miserable celibacy, nor will we tolerate it. We want marriage to be free, as God ordered it and instituted it. We do not want to disrupt or inhibit God’s work, for St. Paul says that would be “a teaching of demons” [1 Timothy 4:1].²

In addition to burning theological debates over justification through faith, the use of the sacraments, and church authority, such references to marriage and fasting anchored the early Reformation critique of the papacy as antichrist in specific texts and practices. Having inherited the idea of an antichristian church hierarchy from forerunners like Wycliffe and Huss, Luther and his colleagues sought to be clear and specific about the New Testament basis of their criticism.

By 1521, Luther had no doubt that the Church of Rome was aligned with the New Testament concept of antichrist. Such a conclusion had come from experiences that showed him a church more interested in its own power and rules than in the freeing gospel of Christ. This conviction peaked when the papal bull of excommunication against him reached Wittenberg in the autumn of 1520. As historian Berndt Hamm observed, “On October 11, he [Luther] notified Georg Spalatin of the arrival of the bull with the words, ‘Already I am much freer because I have finally received the certainty that the pope is the Antichrist and has publicly been exposed as the seat of Satan.’”³ With the papacy’s clear condemnation of his gospel-centered teachings so publicly stated, Luther felt justified in applying the New Testament words about the antichrist to the papal church.

While such heightened language certainly aimed to gain popular and political favor for the Reformation at the expense of traditional church authorities, the Passional Christi und Antichristi also contains strong pastoral concerns. Throughout the work, Christ is portrayed as one who cares for regular people, teaches simply and compassionately, navigates challenging situations with wisdom and grace, and knows human suffering and pain. More than propaganda, these are profound religious statements, which stand in clear contrast to the many tyrannies that people face in life. The images of Christ in this Passional give unmistakable impressions of what a life of following Christ looks like. It’s sympathy for the plight of the poor also shows why many people may have been disappointed that Luther did not support a more radical restructuring of society, especially during the Peasants Wars of 1524/25.

The numerous biblical references that appear in both word and image also provide educational content. Scenes from Christ’s entire life appear throughout the Passional: the Christmas story of Luke 2, Jesus’ ministry of teaching and healing, confrontations with religious authorities, washing the disciples’ feet, carrying the cross, and ascending into heaven. In its relatively few pages, therefore, this work provides much biblical education, as it communicates the message of a savior who came to serve, not to be served.

In conclusion, the Passional Christi und Antichristi belongs to a long history of popular reform, internal critique, and Christian education. The text uses biblical sources and citations of canon law to show that these depictions were more than mere slander or partisan propaganda. While some of its polemics against the church hierarchy may seem over-the-top or outdated, they represent important real-life themes and controversies of the early Reformation. Contemporary readers might, therefore, be surprised to see how these images might continue to inspire reflection on matters of social reform, personal transformation, and effective institutions.