Theologians: The Unheard Mediator

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Much of what he saw was later reflected in a satiric essay on the foolishness of life, called In Praise of Folly —now the most widely read of all his works. Far more influential during his own lifetime was a new Greek translation of the New Testament published in 1516. Though faulty by modern standards, according to Bainton, it established the proper principles of Biblical scholarship and became "the basis for the great vernacular translations."

A year later, Martin Luther posted his 95 Theses at the Wittenberg Castle church; Erasmus was caught in the ensuing crossfire between the Reformers and the defenders of the Roman Church. He had protested constantly against the abuses of the religious orders, against clerical concubinage, against indulgences, shrines, relics and rote prayers. Thus at first he sympathized with Luther, who, he said, had committed only two sins: he had "struck at the tiara of the Pope and the bellies of the monks." But as a cool, skeptical rationalist, Erasmus was no more at home with Protestant dogmatism than with Catholic authoritarianism. "I cannot be a martyr for Luther," he declared, and set out to be a mediator instead. "I see sedition under way," he wrote sadly. "I hope it will turn out to the glory of Christ. Perhaps scandals have to come, but I do not want to be their author."

Extremist Sides. It was not an age for mediators. After Luther's excommunication, criticism of Erasmus' moderate views drove the scholar from the Low Countries. He moved to Basel, but the tyranny of the Reformers there eventually forced him to Germany. "There is more latitude in the Church of Rome," he complained, "than among the heretics." He tried to prevent the schism of England's church, arguing with Roman theologians that it would be better to let Henry VIII commit bigamy than cause another split. But both sides of Christendom seemed impelled toward extremism. In Catholic Paris, a disciple of Erasmus was burned at the stake for heresy; in London, two close friends—Thomas More and Bishop John Fisher—were beheaded for loyalty to Rome.

A year after their executions, in the summer of 1536, Erasmus died. He had pronounced his century "the worst since Christ," and certainly, for a man of tolerance and moderation, it was. He was a man who preached reason and discussion in a torn world that preferred angry deeds. More than a rationalist, Erasmus was something of a prophet: many of the changes he wished to see in the church were adopted not merely by the Reformers but ultimately by Rome as well, and his understanding of what it means to be a Christian is still valid. Like modern liberals caught between revolution and reaction, says Bainton, Erasmus had tried to bring about change without the "grave tumult" he feared, and was "caught between the upper and nether millstone, and ground not to flour but to dust." It was a bitter ending. As the great humanist died, even his last words—"Dear God"—seemed not so much a prayer as an anguished comment on his times.