In her former books, Lyndal Roper focused her attention on women and the body in early modern history. The body, in different expressions, plays a central role in Martin Luther: Renegade and Prophet, where Roper attempts to show how the complex elements of physical and emotional disorders had a major effect on Luther's teachings.
Questions about the body lay at the heart of Christian worship. Andreas Karlstadt (1486–1541), a theologian at the University of Wittenberg, claimed, among other things, that eating the sacramental bread was no more than an act of commemoration and that Christ's presence in the Eucharist was spiritual and not physical. Luther could not tolerate Karlstadt's denial that Christ's body was literally and physically present in the Eucharist, just as he condemned the concepts of Ulrich Zwingli and others who attributed to the sacrament only a symbolic significance. Luther fought all of them zealously and, in the process, not only lost associates and partners but also accumulated enemies.
Roper argues that the dispute was rooted in the traditional distinction between flesh and spirit to which Luther's opponents adhered while Luther failed to perceive a complete separation between the two. Roper explains: “Whatever else he was, he was no killjoy. He saw sexuality as sinful but only in the way that all our actions are sinful, and this perspective freed him to be remarkably positive about the body and physical experience” (410). Thus, Luther believed that having sex was positive and right in the eyes of God within the framework of marriage and family. On several occasions “he had advised women who could not have children with their husbands to have children with the husbands’ brother secretly, counsel that he repeated in his sermon on marriage in 1522” (352). Luther allowed Prince Philip of Hesse (1504–1567) to marry a seventeen-year-old girl he desired without divorcing his legal wife, a clearly bigamous act. As Roper points out: “This solution followed the example of the polygamous patriarchs of the Old Testament” (350), and it was in accordance with his “long-held views on marriage and on the body” (352).
The emancipation of repressed bodily needs, which Luther declared, also made an impact on his anti-Jewish writings. A crescendo of anti-Jewish revulsion burst out in Luther's late tracts, as Roper clearly demonstrates, making extensive use of Luther's less recognized but no less toxic Vom Schem Hamphoras und vom Geschlecht Christi (On the Ineffable Name and the Generations of Christ, 1543). This is an interpretive layer to the notorious Judensau adorning the front of the church in Wittenberg: “‘The Devil has . . . emptied his stomach again and again . . . which the Jews, and those who want to be a Jew, kiss, eat, drink and worship.’ . . . ‘He stuffs and squirts them so full, that it overflows and swims out of every place, pure devils filth’” (383). Judas Iscariot brings Luther to another climax: “‘When Judas Iscariot hanged himself, so that his guts ripped . . . then the Jews had their golden cans and silver bowls ready, to catch the Judas piss (as one calls it) with the other relics, and afterwards together they ate the shit and drank’” (383).
According to Roper's analysis, certain aspects of Luther's theology were intrinsically related to Judaism. Perhaps it was this closeness that aroused his anti-Jewish attacks. Roper suggests the closeness is the result of a number of factors: Luther's avoidance of dealing with life after death; the importance he attributed to ad fontes, i.e., his persistent use of Hebrew and Greek scriptural sources in translating the Bible; Luther's reduction of the centrality of the Virgin Mary and her ability to redeem humanity and intercede on its behalf; and finally, Luther's positive attitude toward the body and its various contexts placed him very close to the Jewish emphasis on fertility and family, as opposed to monasticism and celibacy, which Luther totally rejected.
Roper examines Luther's attitude toward the Turks and Islam (373–378), emphasizing their conception as murderers, liars, and people who desecrate marriage (through their polygamy). Therefore, the idea of warring with the Turks was widely accepted, yet Luther argued against any kind of religious crusade and believed the Turks should not be attacked on the grounds of their faith. Roper elaborates on Luther's interest in Islam which was quite unusual for the time. Luther emphasized positive aspects of Islam: modesty in regard to clothing, food, housing, as well as worship, prayer, fasting, and religious gatherings. Luther also admired how the Turkish patriarchs kept their women subservient (375). He wrote the introduction to the Latin translation of the Qur'an published by Theodore Bibliander (1509–1564). It was a translation of an Arabic manuscript, acquired in the twelfth century by Peter the Venerable (ca. 1092–1156) and Bernard of Clairvaux (1090–1153). Peter hired the Englishman Robert of Ketton (ca. 1141–1157) to translate the manuscript into Latin. This translation was copied many times, and four hundred years later, Luther was in possession of one of these versions. He entrusted it to Bibliander for publication. The outcome was the first Latin translation of the Qur'an in print (Basel, 1543).
Luther's interest was also expressed by the publication in 1530 of a work entitled Tractatus de moribus, condicionibus et nequicia Turcorum (Treatise on the Customs, Habits, and Perversity of the Turks), composed in 1481 by the Dominican monk Georgius de Hungaria (Georg von Muelbach, 1422–1502). In his introduction to the booklet, Luther asserted that Muslims are superior to Christians in their customs and moral virtues. However, since Christianity is more than just customs and virtues, it still transcends Islam.
Anfechtungen, the sufferings caused by the efforts to overcome Godly tests and devilish temptations, struck Luther. First it was God, and later in his life the devil, as Luther explained. The phenomenon was revealed in melancholy, perhaps depression, accompanied by great anxiety. This had physical manifestations: excessive sweating, severe headaches, dizziness, tinnitus, and (at least in one case) a panic attack. Roper believes that the persona of Luther's father (this is not the only Freudian analysis in the book) is related to these disorders. Luther shifted the figure of the father toward God the Father, whom he believed to be a judge who did not need an intermediary. This played an important role in Luther's growing sense that nothing stood between the believer and God, who was simultaneously perceived as being present in close proximity and posing a major threat. Thus, the Anfechtungen were essential to the development of Luther's theological thinking and were significant in paving the way to the Reformation. Johann von Staupitz, Luther's long-time mentor and confessor who could not get to the bottom of Luther's sufferings, wisely observed: “‘But, as I see, they are more necessary to you than eating and drinking’” (46).
Roper conclusively explains: “Luther was not ‘modern,’ and unless we appreciate his thought in his own unfamiliar and often uncomfortable terms, we will not see what it might have to offer us today” (411). Indeed, one should approach Luther and his world with this caveat in mind.
