People Need the Lord…and Nietzsche:

An Exploration of Anthropologies

“Original sin, itself, therefore, leaves free choice with no capacity to do anything but sin and be damned.”—Martin Luther

“Wherever responsibilities are sought, what tends to be doing the seeking is the instinct of wanting to punish and rule.”—Friedrich Nietzsche

“There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment.”—1 John 4:18

I

In contrast with some Christian scholars, I believe that Nietzsche accurately estimated Christianity, at least the Lutheran practice and theology of his day and time.¹ But that is beside the point, at least for the moment. For while Nietzsche’s critique may be against a caricature of Christianity rather than the Christianity contained in the New Testament, such an argument is only useful for apologetic purposes. ² Whether one finds biblical Christianity to be different from Nietzsche’s Christianity or not, the fact remains: Nietzsche attacked nineteenth century Lutheranism. Based on the majority of his works against Christianity, one could easily deduce that the Christian concept of humanity was a target of Nietzsche. It seems, in fact, that Nietzsche saw a fatal flaw in the way that Lutheranism conceived of and explained the nature of humanity. But instead of dismissing Nietzsche’s criticism ad hominem, I would like to allow Nietzsche and Luther to dialogue about their differences. This essay, then, will explore Nietzsche’s polemic from a theological perspective. Specifically speaking, what was it about Lutheran theology that spurred Nietzsche’s scorn? And then how did Nietzsche attempt to right that problem? And, finally, must all of Nietzsche’s anthropology be discarded by Christian thought—or is there some other recourse?

To answer these questions, I will examine the anthropology of Martin Luther set forth in “The Bondage of the Will.” Furthermore, I will delineate key themes that arise in that essay, noting how those thoughts became formative for Lutheran practice by the nineteenth century. I will then turn very briefly to the work of Philip Melanchthon and Ludwig Feuerbach and point out how their projects opened Luther as a target of wrath for Nietzsche. Next, I will examine Nietzsche’s response to Luther’s anthropology, pointing out how Nietzsche attempted to re-imagine humanity. Finally, I will suggest a more nuanced reading of Luther that may have been forgotten and suggest some anthropological directions emerging from Luther and Nietzsche together.

II

In order to understand Nietzsche’s anger with Lutheran anthropology, one must first understand Lutheran anthropology itself. While a comprehensive summation of Lutheran anthropology is impossible in an essay of this nature, the theological foundation for Lutheran anthropology can be observed in one of Luther’s essays: “The Bondage of the Will.”³

“The Bondage of the Will,” is a polemic against Erasmus, who argued that humanity has free choice in its relation to God and creation. Luther vehemently disagreed with Erasmus, instead suggesting that the biblical corpus leads to one conclusion: humanity has no free will at all with regard to salvation. Luther goes to great lengths to demonstrate his point, most notably a lengthy exegesis of the Pauline and Johannine writings of Scripture. While the polemical nature of this essay should be remembered—Luther often employed hyperbole in order to make his argument more clearly—Luther’s true feelings regarding human nature come to the forefront of this essay. Even a relatively inexperienced reader of Luther can read the primary threads of thought woven through the fabric of his anthropology.

Perhaps Luther’s most famous thread regarding the nature of humanity in “Bondage” was humanity’s ability to live without the law. Luther did not mean that humanity should live in utter anarchy, but rather that humanity did not need the laws of holiness found in the Hebrew Bible. Instead of promoting holiness, Luther argues, Scriptural law simply makes humanity aware of character flaws. Laws and moral codes frustrate human nature, because they uncover the impossibility of perfection, in Luther’s opinion. As Luther writes, “He denies that free choice is proved by the law and cooperates with it to produce righteousness; for what comes through the law is not righteousness, but knowledge of sin.”⁴ Laws frustrate, because they create barriers and standards unlike the desires of human nature. The difference between the standard of Scriptural law and human activity is sin, according to Luther. Once humanity surmises the gulf between the standard of the law and reality, a sense of depression and defeat begins. Luther writes, “The law is no help, much less can he help himself. There is need of another light to reveal the remedy.”⁵

What humanity needs, Luther believes, is an opportunity to live freely human, free from the constraints of law and morality. Indeed, Luther echoes the sentiments of the Apostle Paul, quoting 1 Corinthians 8:8, “Eating and drinking are works that do not justify or commend us to God, yet a man does nothing unlawful when he eats and drinks.” According to Luther, law simply designates some of humanity’s problems—and Luther longs for a way to surpass it. Luther’s dislike for the law, however, does not discount its importance. In fact, Luther insists that the law must be fulfilled in some way, for it is God-ordained. God would not create a code without intending for it to be upheld, Luther felt, so it must be followed. And so Luther’s thought reached an impasse: God created law that must be fulfilled, and humanity needs to live past the law.

Luther’s saw the Holy Spirit as God’s answer to that problem. To receive the Holy Spirit, one must recognize the revelation of God placed forth in Jesus Christ, according to Luther. By believing in Jesus, God allows the Holy Spirit to fulfill the standards of the law and thereby give humanity an opportunity to live freely. Jesus, then, fulfills the law, but is distinct from it. Luther quotes Paul at this point, “But now the righteousness of God is manifested apart from the law.”⁶ For Luther, the word “apart” is crucial. God’s understanding of righteousness was not manifest through the law, but it was instead manifest apart from the law. Jesus may have come so that every jot and tittle of the law could be fulfilled, but his manifestation is, according to Luther, a distinctly different and separate occurrence. In other words, humanity must be confronted first with the law in order to recognize its inadequacy and then, in faith, turn to Christ so that they might receive the Holy Spirit and therefore have the capability to have the law fulfilled. Christ, the bringer of love, redeems humanity.

At the moment of faith, an individual does at least two things. First, an individual accepts the ability to live freely. Second, an individual surrenders their free choice to the purpose of God—one’s will is effectively bound at the moment of faith. The bondage of the will, then, comes into play when an individual decides to live (or receives, according to Luther) a fulfilled and happy life. To do so, the individual faithfully receives the Holy Spirit and thereby begins living according to God’s direction. The individual’s will is bound to Christ and his will. The need to live free of law culminates in the Holy Spirit for Luther. Only by allowing the will to be bound to Christ can an individual be fulfilled and therefore truly human; only by freely loving the will of Christ can an individual be fulfilled and therefore truly human.

Those familiar with Christian doctrine will find little surprising about Luther’s anthropology thus far. While theologians have often disagreed on the method by which salvation and grace are bestowed, life in Christ and the Holy Spirit are standard parts of theological systems. But Luther’s anthropology does not end here.

Luther makes two caveats vital to understanding his thought. First, Luther argues that human nature is so corrupt that, even after the will has been bound, humanity might still choose to argue with the leading of God. He says, “If human nature is so evil that in those born anew of the Spirit it not only does not endeavor after the good but actually strives and fights against it, how should it endeavor after the good?”⁷ In Luther’s mind, humanity is corrupt to a fault. Even after the will has been bound, human will continues to strain against its binding like a wild horse saddled for the first time. Second, Luther argues that the world has a dualistic nature. Luther writes, “For Christians know there are two kingdoms in the world, which are bitterly opposed to each other. In one of them Satan reigns, who is therefore called by Christ ‘the ruler of this world.’”⁸ Humanity lives, according to Luther, torn between the allegiances to two worlds.

“The Bondage of the Will,” provides the reader with basic insight into Luther’s anthropology, particularly some aspects which would have been of interest to Nietzsche. First and foremost, Luther clearly delineates between law and morality, insisting that law is inherently bad. Second, Luther argues that human will must be bound, specifically to the will of God. If human will is not bound, it acts in a purely destructive manner. Thirdly, Luther notes that human will is quite strong. The will is so strong, in fact, that it can resist binding and continue to work evil. Next, Luther argues that humanity struggles with good and evil because humanity lives in a state torn between two worlds—one ruled by God and the other ruled by Satan. Luther’s anthropology posits a humanity that is strong and must learn how to reign its desires. But perhaps most importantly, “The Bondage of the Will,” emphasizes the lot of all humanity from an individual perspective. Luther’s anthropology is radically individualized in this essay, as he focuses on each individual’s bondage to Christ. Ideally, the individual chooses to relate to God through love.

III

For right or for wrong, “The Bondage of the Will,” became one of the more influential of Luther’s writings concerning anthropology, particularly after his death. Luther’s work, like that of all scholars, was left to the interpreters, and “Bondage” became an important essay for those attempting to distill Lutheran theology into a manageable amount. Young contemporaries of Luther, most notably Philip Melanchthon,⁹ would find themselves in the position of carrying on the task of reforming Catholic theology of the sixteenth century. Melanchthon turned, as did most others, to Luther’s writings. “The Bondage of the Will,” illustrated Luther’s emphasis upon salvation apart from the law quite clearly, and its importance began to rise. As one might imagine, as the essay became better known, its anthropology was ingrained more deeply into religious practice. Once again, Melanchthon emphasized the individual’s relationship to God. Luther’s theological interpretation began to tend toward individualization, and nineteenth century Lutheranism would later have to work through that very issue. After all, how long would it take for an individual’s salvation to become epistemologically tied to one’s actions, to one’s morality?

Ludwig Feuerbach attempts to shift Christian theology with his assertion that all theology is anthropology in his work, The Essence of Christianity.¹⁰ Feuerbach’s thesis was simple: humanity saw potential and virtue within itself, but recognized its shortcomings; as a result, humans projected what a perfect being would look like—and they called the being God. Therefore, Feuerbach argued, the Christian conception of God was born from a projection of the perfect human. Feuerbach soon found that he could not simply de-mythologize Christianity from a psychological standpoint, but he also needed to engage the theology of his day.

Feuerbach’s context was nineteenth century Germany, and the theology of nineteenth century Germany was almost exclusively Lutheranism. As a result, Feuerbach wrote another book, though much less known, attempting to uncover traces of projection within Luther’s writing. It was called The Essence of Faith According to Luther.¹¹ In it, Feuerbach addresses theological concerns he saw opening throughout nineteenth century Lutheranism. Most notably, Feuerbach argued that the God of Lutheranism existed solely for humanity—a ridiculous proposition according to Feuerbach.¹² Feuerbach notes that Lutheran practice and preaching emphasizes an almost radically individualistic take on God. In other words, Feuerbach found the Lutheran church to practice an individual salvation, devoid of most any concern for others. Love and charity were less emphasized in nineteenth century Lutheranism, in Feuerbach’s opinion, and that was the primary reason why Christianity was most clearly not divine; only an anthropological system could be so concerned about the individual. Lutheran Christians, in other words, were concerned with morality as their religion. Feuerbach saw Lutheranism to be concerned with the salvation of individuals primarily on a moral level, and he hoped to attack Luther as the key proponent of that ideal.

IV

The engagement of the stories of Melanchthon and Feuerbach, I believe, are essential to the anger of Nietzsche leveled against the Lutheran church. Nietzsche would have no reason to write if Luther had not posited the need for individual salvation. Nietzsche would not have read Luther in such a manner if not for Melanchthon. And Nietzsche would not have argued so clearly if it had not been for Feuerbach and his critique of Luther’s moralizing. And so Nietzsche engages Luther in light of Feuerbach in light of Melanchthon in hopes of redefining what it means to be human.

Nietzsche’s anger with Luther, or Lutheranism, more specifically, stems, in my opinion, from Luther’s primary assertions. Luther saw humanity in need of something outside of itself. Luther called that need salvation, and he tied that need directly to God’s grace. But Luther could have called that need by any name, and Nietzsche would have despised it. Nietzsche’s primary concern was to uphold the strength and place of humanity’s independence, and Lutheranism worked plainly against that thesis. Luther saw humanity in much need; Nietzsche saw humanity as strong and capable. Nietzsche’s anthropology was an attempt, firstly, to free humanity from the need to have anything outside of itself.

One of Nietzsche’s more famous concepts is known as the “will to power.” Briefly summarized, the will to power is the ability within humanity to grasp and achieve excellence and its potential. As Tyler T. Roberts says, “In the will to power—in life itself—Nietzsche finds what he calls ‘the affirmation of life’ or ‘the eternal joy of becoming.’”¹³ Roberts notes that, for Nietzsche, one strives, works, and lives only at the same point of being anonymous and insecure.¹⁴ And so Nietzsche’s thought is caught in this interesting paradox: humanity is strong and self-sufficient and yet secretive and fearful. It is in this space between strength and fear, I think, that Nietzsche’s anthropology comes alive. In other words, humanity realizes it needs nothing else, yet it simultaneously realizes it must strive to protect itself. In that instinctual mode, humanity moves closer to understanding itself, in Nietzsche’s opinion. The will to power includes both the actions of a strong humanity and the fearful motivations behind those strong actions. Both the instinct and the fear are important to Nietzsche. One feeds from the other. As Nietzsche notes, “What is to be feared, what has a more calamitous effect than any other calamity, is that man should inspire not profound fear, but profound nausea; also not great fear but great pity.”¹⁵ Nietzsche sees humanity motivated by the possibility of power, but also the fear of failure. Humanity is formed in this dual crucible, Nietzsche believes, with the will to power serving as the manifestation of humanity’s nature.

Fear and power drive humanity to a new conclusion: they are self-sufficient. A human is really human, according to Nietzsche, once he or she realizes that they need nothing outside of themselves. Unfortunately, Nietzsche believes, most humans are not living in the tension between fear and power. On the contrary, most humans are causing a sort of nausea because of their self-lacking. What has caused this drastic tragedy? Nietzsche lays the blame at the feet of the church. In his work, Ecce Homo, Nietzsche lays forth this notion of a re-imagined humanity:

Let us look ahead a century; let us suppose that my attempt to assassinate two millennia of antinature and desecration of man were to succeed. That new party of life which would tackle the greatest of all tasks, the attempt to raise humanity higher, including the relentless destruction of everything that was degenerating and parasitical, would again make possible that excess of life on earth from which the Dionysian state, too, would have to awaken again. I promise a tragic age: the highest art in saying Yes to life, tragedy, will be reborn when humanity has weathered the consciousness of the hardest but most necessary wars without suffering from it.¹⁶

Nietzsche’s definition of tragedy—saying Yes to life—is possible only when the two millennia of “desecration of man” have been destroyed. Those two millennia—signified by the church—must be overcome, in Nietzsche’s opinion.

How does Nietzsche’s notion of power interact with the Lutheranism of his day? Luther’s “Bondage of the Will” weakened humanity, according to Nietzsche’s line of thought, for it found humanity to be incapable of guiding and guarding its own destiny. Nietzsche views any conception of humanity that does not embrace life to be a desecration of humanity. As Luther argues that humanity must look outside of itself to best discover how to live and Nietzsche argues that humanity must look inside itself, Luther and Nietzsche find themselves at opposite poles. Enter Feuerbach. Just as Feuerbach found fault with Luther for emphasizing the importance of the individual’s salvation based upon morality. Nietzsche will follow suit. Feuerbach faulted Luther for pretending that humanity needed to look outside of itself for salvation, while Nietzsche will criticize the need for salvation at all. At any rate, Luther’s “Bondage of the Will,” imagines humanity too weak, and Nietzsche determined to set his destructive polemic upon it. Nietzsche hoped to demonstrate the singular strength of humanity, and he found Lutheranism to destroy that strength by binding the will of humanity to a weak-minded religion. Rather than needing salvation, as Luther argued, Nietzsche simply saw that humanity needed to be freed—freed from the constraints of the morality that had been placed upon them.

But Nietzsche’s critique of Lutheran anthropology was not only concerned with the perceived need for salvation within the church. Nietzsche was, I think, horrified at the thought that humanity must be forced to throw in its lot with the crucified man-God of Jesus of Nazareth. Instead of arguing that Nietzsche did not fully grasp the love and grace of Jesus, I believe just the opposite. Nietzsche fully understood the claims and purposes of Jesus, and he wanted no part of them. Granted, Nietzsche’s claims against Christianity are rarely directed at Jesus, and perhaps one could argue that Nietzsche would have no problem with the man Jesus portrayed in the New Testament. But the Jesus portrayed in “The Bondage of the Will” would stand opposite of Nietzsche’s anthropological program. As “The Bondage of the Will” became more influential, it only heightened the argument that to be truly human, one must allow one’s will to be bound to the will of Christ. I imagine nothing could have been more horrifying to Nietzsche.

In The Genealogy of Morals, Nietzsche wrote:

This Jesus of Nazareth, the incarnate gospel of love, this “Redeemer” who brought blessedness and victory to the poor, the sick and the sinners—was he not this seduction in its most uncanny and irresistible form, a seduction and bypath to precisely those Jewish values and new ideals? Did Israel not attain the ultimate goal of its sublime vengefulness precisely though the bypath of this “Redeemer,” this ostensible opponent and disintegrator of Israel? Was it not part of the secret black art of truly grand politics of revenge, of a farseeing, subterranean, slowly advancing, and premeditated revenge, that Israel must itself deny the real instrument of its revenge before all the world as a moral enemy and nail it to the cross, so that “all the world,” namely all the opponents of Israel, could unhesitatingly swallow just this bait? And could spiritual subtlety imagine any more dangerous bait than this?¹⁷

Jesus was, in the mind of Nietzsche, the most deceptive and dangerous spiritual bait ever. Who would not want to believe that God had himself killed for humanity? Of course the story of Jesus is powerful and effective! God has made humanity important…as if humanity was not already important in and of itself! Nietzsche resists the binding of humanity with Jesus, because Jesus is a representative of weakness, of pity, of the lowest form of morality possible. When humanity began to perceive mercy and grace as positive qualities, humanity took a step backward in the mind of Nietzsche.

Nietzsche was horrified at the thought of humanity being bound to Christ. The question, though, is why? From the passage quoted above, it seems as if Nietzsche was fearful, not of Jesus himself, but instead of the ethical demands such a binding would impose. Nietzsche speaks of the fear of seduction that would lead to new values—Jewish values, to be specific. Nietzsche was afraid of a binding to Jesus because such a binding would lead to a slave morality and ressentiment. Much has been written about ressentiment and slave morality, and I could hardly add much to the conversation here, but it should be noted that Nietzsche saw Christianity as taking the instinctual virtue of good and strong humans and making those things to be weaknesses. The nobles—those who are beautiful, strong, and happy—are suddenly viewed as evil and in the wrong when humanity binds itself to Christ. Nietzsche values strength, power, beauty, and courage. Jesus, Nietzsche believes, values weakness, meekness, ugliness, and fear. If humanity’s will is bound to such a system, it is doomed to suffer unreasonably.¹⁸

One could quote passage after passage noting Nietzsche’s fascination with strength. But what of Roberts’ assertion that fear and insecurity are just as important to understanding Nietzsche’s will to power? At least two passages shed some light on how fear forms and drives humanity from Nietzsche’s perspective. In Beyond Good and Evil, Nietzsche writes:

In the last analysis, “love of the neighbor,” is always something secondary, partly conventional and arbitrary-illusory in relation to fear of the neighbor. After the structure of society is fixed on the whole and seems secure against external dangers, it is this fear of the neighbor that again creates new perspectives of moral valuation.¹⁹

Nietzsche reminds the reader that moral standards can be changed if there is no reason to press forward into a new frontier. In other words, if there is no conquest, no moving forward, then the suspicions normally cast upon others becomes cast upon neighbors, and fear begins to become a relating point between them. And although Nietzsche does not say it, one might deduce that if fear is directed at neighbors when conquest is absent, then fear is directed at the enemy in times of war. In other words, humanity consistently uses fear as a method to formulate action. Nietzsche supports this notion again in the first essay of The Genealogy of Morals. Speaking of the priestly class among India, Nietzsche writes, “The inactive, brooding, unwarlike element in the instincts of contemplative men long surrounded them with a profound mistrustfulness: the only way of dispelling it was to arouse a decided fear of oneself.”²⁰ In order to move past self-doubt, individuals create fear, Nietzsche believes. Fear is natural and instinctual, but fear can also be created. If one has no valid reason to fear, then one will create it. In other words, humans are comfortable with fear, for fear provides motive for action. And if an individual needs a reason to act, that individual might imagine a fearful scenario in order to motivate. Fear is necessary, Nietzsche seems to believe; for without fear, humanity stands unmotivated to action, to the affirmation of life. Fear is a formative aspect of Nietzsche’s anthropology; fear serves as a catalyst to act. Fear is a valid motive standing opposite the guilt Nietzsche saw motivating so many individuals of his day.

Nietzsche’s anthropology fought against the Lutheran anthropology of his day because of several reasons: its confusion between religion and morality; its insistence on the weakness of humanity; its insistence on the singularness of the story of Jesus; and its need to bind humanity to the will of God. Perhaps the need for power and the fear of institutionalized Christianity drove Nietzsche to act, just as Roberts has theorized. Whatever the case, Nietzsche conceived a more powerful humanity. Nietzsche dreamed of humanity without limits, without constraints, forming itself between its power of life and fear of the unknown. Nietzsche imagined a humanity that needed no guilt to motivate. He imagined a world where humanity moved to embrace life freely.

V

Unfortunately for Nietzsche, another of Luther’s essays, this one more balanced in its thought and scope, was not as influential as “The Bondage of the Will.” Late in his life, Luther wrote a longer treatise on the freedom of believers. He hoped to explain his position even further on the state of humanity, and he was becoming tired of his position being misrepresented and used against his work.²¹ This essay attempted to explain how, despite being bound to the will of Christ, Christians might still be free.

“The Freedom of a Christian,” dedicated to Pope Leo X as an act of reconciliation (though eventually rejected), attempts to clarify two postulates necessary for Christians: “A Christian is perfectly free lord of all, subject to none. A Christian is a perfectly dutiful servant of all, subject to all.”²² First and foremost, Luther once again emphasizes the impossibility of humanity to reach salvation based upon merit. This essay, however, finds Luther targeting religious activities specifically. He writes, “It does not help the soul if the body is adorned with the sacred robes of priests or dwells in sacred places or occupied with sacred duties or prays, fasts, abstains from certain kinds of food, or does any work that can be done by the body and in the body.”²³ For Luther, religious practices and works attempting to fulfill the laws of Scripture are one and the same: while they may be well intentioned, they ultimately fall short. It is important to note that for Luther, religion and morality may intersect, but they are not identical.

Secondly, Luther’s notion of will bondage undergoes a small transformation in this essay. Instead of the will being bound to Christ, Luther now prefers to use the metaphor of marriage in discussing how humanity is joined with the purpose of God. He writes, “The third incomparable benefit of faith is that it unites the soul with Christ as a bride is united with her bridegroom. By this mystery, as the Apostle teaches, Christ and the soul become one flesh.”²⁴ The movement from bondage to marriage may be subtle, but it seems important. Whereas the human will was previously bound to God’s purpose, it is now joined to God in a moment of communion—a much more voluntary act. Humans freely love in Luther’s later thought; they are not strictly bound.

VI

If, as I have suggested, “The Bondage of the Will” was a formative essay in the theological development of nineteenth century Lutheranism, one could trace a path from that essay to theoretical anthropological problems within nineteenth century Christianity. One might imagine the confusion of morality and religion within Lutheranism; one might imagine the total absence of free choice for humanity. The “Bondage of the Will,” paints a picture of humanity much weaker than what Nietzsche hoped for. In turn, Nietzsche leveled some accurate critiques of the manifestation of Christianity he witnessed in his era. Given Nietzsche’s arguments and Melanchthon’s influence in the realm of Luther interpretation, I find it highly likely that “The Bondage of the Will” was indeed the bull’s eye of Nietzsche’s target.

That having been said, I think a nuanced reading of Luther might find more common ground between these two individuals than has been previously thought. I am not suggesting that Nietzsche and Luther would have been pen pals—far from it. But their anthropologies do have some striking similarities that warrant observation and discussion. To begin, both Luther and Nietzsche are concerned with humanity existing freely. Granted, both men undertake radically different conceptions of what freedom looks like. For Nietzsche, freedom appears to be an instinctual sort of freedom—a following of desires in their most primal state. Nietzsche imagines a humanity freely creating and living true to instinct. For Luther, freedom means living a life without the constrains of law, freely loving and serving a God that has created humanity. In my opinion, Melanchthon and Feuerbach misread Luther at this point, and, as Christianity often did (and still does for that matter), slipped into a sort of moralistic legalism. Melanchthon and Feuerbach read their context into Luther and saw a moralizing, guilt-creating machine within nineteenth century Christianty. As a result, Nietzsche saw the same in Luther. Nietzsche was critical of Luther because of the connection he saw between Luther’s thought and the upholding of a moral code. Nietzsche knew of Luther’s concern with two worlds, and he strove against it. But anyone who has read both “The Bondage of the Will” and “The Freedom of a Christian” plainly sees that Luther has no desire to support a code of morality as such or as an end in itself. In fact, in both Nietzsche and Luther, anthropology exhibits a longing for a discovery of what life without boundaries would be like. Their outcomes, however, are radically different. For Nietzsche, such a life would be a creative spiritual state filled with conquest and instinct; Luther instead finds a life without boundaries would lead to the free exchange of love. So, while the anthropologies diverge in their imaginings of a perfect world, both find freedom as a beginning point.

Another theme, a more subtle one, is also similar. For both Luther and Nietzsche, humanity is a natural wonder. Feuerbach criticized Luther for his emphasis on the individual. And while Feuerbach surely had some truth within his critique, I believe Luther focused on the individual because he marveled at the nature of humanity. While Luther’s thought may have tended toward individualism at the sake of sacrificing communal theology, Luther was, in at least some manner, a humanist: he loved humanity. But Luther did so because of his belief that humans were created in the image of God. Nietzsche’s anthropology, on the other hand, had no divine base, and therefore humanity simply existed in Nietzsche’s mind. But even in that pagan state, Nietzsche was also a humanist, for he found humanity to be at its best when it lived in a self-exalted state. Clearly both men found humanity to be marvelous. Nietzsche misread Luther at this point as well, in my opinion. Whereas Nietzsche read the slave morality of Lutheranism as a degrading of humanity and an intentional suppressing of human excellence, I believe Luther’s intentions were pure as he laid a path for humanity. As with the theme of freedom, Luther and Nietzsche took a similar theme in opposite directions. For Luther, humanity was the imago dei. For Nietzsche, humanity was simply the most powerful being. But the uniqueness of humanity drove both Luther and Nietzsche to explore the frontiers of the same question, “What does it mean to be human?”

Moving forward from these similarities—humanity’s uniqueness and its need for freedom in order to exist correctly—anthropological directions are forged between differences. Most notably, Luther and Nietzsche differ over the motive of humanity’s action. As a result, both men find humanity embarking upon very different activities. For Nietzsche, two things drive humanity: instinct and fear. Any honest individual would admit that on more than one occasion one or both of these factors have motivated them. Nietzsche speaks honestly. And because these factors are so common, one could take them to be ultimately true. In fact, they might be true in many—maybe even most—of the cases of individual humans. Instinct and fear are real causes for very real events. But I think Luther’s motivation runs deeper. In fact, after reading “The Bondage of the Will” and “The Freedom of a Christian,” one discovers the motive at the bottom of Luther’s notion of humanity. That motive is love. Luther is no idealist. He knows, like Nietzsche, that instinct and fear are powerful. In fact, Luther notes that humanity is so powerful that even one whose will is bound to Christ continues to fight that will from time to time. Instinct and fear are quite powerful, indeed. But Luther finds instinct and fears are best known when they are redeemed through love. Luther’s metaphor of marriage from “The Freedom of a Christian” drives the point home. Humanity lives with instinct and fear. Those parts of existence never fully disappear. But when individuals relate to God through love, a new form of free existence appears, and humans are free to love themselves, one another, and to have their fear transformed. Only when humans freely love can they be transformed; and love comes first and foremost from the presence of Christ freely accepted into the lives of an individual.

Luther’s notion of love derives itself from biblical passages like 1 John 4:18. That verse reads, “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment.” Nietzsche is afraid of God because God, in his opinion, forces humanity into a debtor relationship motivating action out of guilt. If such was true, as it can be, Nietzsche was and is correct to critique it. But a better understanding of God, Luther’s understanding, is that God has created humanity in a loving fashion. God freely loves humanity, and God desires humanity to freely love as well. Love banishes fear and guilt, for they are not needed where love is present.

Nietzsche’s vision of humanity is honest, to be sure. As one reads Nietzsche, one can almost taste the greatness Nietzsche saw at the table of humanity. Nietzsche saw a world opening for humanity full of possibilities of creativity and discovery. Christians would do well to recognize his insight into the human spirit. But Luther’s vision is honest, too. And, unlike Nietzsche, Luther’s anthropology opens up a realm of hope for humanity. Where Nietzsche sees creativity and conquering, Luther finds cooperation and community. In other words, Luther imagines a world where humanity can live with one another in love. Both Nietzsche and Luther provide important insight into human nature; both are needed to understand humanity’s situation. But love provides a superior motive for humanity—a motive worth pursuing. Christians, then, need both the Lutheran and the Nietzschean views of humanity, I think. Nietzsche’s emphasis on humanity’s potential and freedom is important, even exhilarating. Christian love makes more sense coming from one powerful creature extended to another. I think no other gesture captures the essence of Nietzsche’s humanity as powerfully as love. A more full anthropology embraces the power of Nietzsche’s humanity tempered with the love of Luther and the New Testament.

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