u/Matslwin

The Church is often accused of having persecuted Jews, though "persecution," my investigation finds, is too strong a word. What the historical record more accurately reflects is a pattern of discriminatory policy and theological contempt.

The Church's official doctrine consistently opposed the killing of Jews and forced baptism, and some Church authorities acted accordingly. At the same time, the institutional Church enacted and enforced discriminatory policies that contributed materially to Jewish marginalization and suffering. Pope Gregory IX (1239), for instance, ordered the Talmud confiscated and burned across Europe, with the Paris burning of 1242 following as a direct consequence. This was an act of cultural destruction carried out under explicit papal authority. Nevertheless, when measured against outright physical violence, it remains largely accurate to say that the Church did not pursue the persecution of Jews as a matter of policy, and that Church authorities frequently worked to protect them from bodily harm.

At times, popes and bishops dispatched envoys to halt or moderate pogroms, but this was insufficient to prevent the violence. The Church's official position was that Jews must not be killed or forced into baptism. Several popes issued bulls explicitly prohibiting violence against Jews, and they sometimes sent envoys to enforce this.

For example, Pope Calixtus II (1120s) issued Sicut Judaeis, which prohibited the killing of Jews, forcing them into baptism, or confiscating their property. This bull was reaffirmed by many later popes. Pope Innocent III (1198–1216), despite his theologically negative view of Jews, sometimes dispatched legates to stop abuses, particularly in connection with crusading movements. Pope Innocent IV (1247) sent envoys and letters to European princes to put a stop to false accusations of ritual murder and host desecration. Pope Gregory X (1272–1276) sent instructions to bishops to protect Jews from violence and to reject ritual murder accusations.

There are several documented cases in which individual bishops actively sought to protect Jews, such as the Bishop of Speyer (1096), who attempted to shelter Jews during the crusade massacres by giving them refuge in his castle. The Archbishop of Cologne (1096) tried to prevent crusaders from attacking Jewish communities. Bishops in France and England (13th century) intervened against mob violence, particularly at Easter and during economic crises.

The Church followed the foundational principle of Augustine: Jews are to be protected, not killed. Their existence serves as a living witness to the truth of Scripture. He formulated an influential idea commonly known as the "witness people" doctrine, according to which Jews must not be killed, must not be forced into baptism, and should be permitted to live among Christians. He writes that the Jews carry "the books of the Law" and thereby confirm the prophetic foundation of Christianity. This became one of the most important theological justifications for halting violence against Jews in medieval Europe. Augustine's position became normative in the Western Church.

We must stop believing the lie that the Church engaged in the persecution of Jews, even though the Church may be said to bear an indirect responsibility, in that certain theological motifs could reinforce antisemitism. There is also an indirect responsibility in calls for crusades, which did indeed affect the Jews. But it was not the Church's intention that crusading knights should murder Jews, nor did the Church intend for them to attack Christians in Constantinople.

When literalist Christians tell me to just open the Bible and read it, as if the truth were simply written there in black and white, I can't help thinking they must be joking. Lutheran scholars have never been able to agree on biblical interpretation, even though the Reformation principle says Scripture alone (Sola Scriptura) is the norm. Sola Scriptura says that Scripture is the final authority, not that Scripture is self‑interpreting in a way that produces uniformity. Once you remove a magisterium, every theologian becomes his own interpreter, every pastor becomes his own exegete, and every synod becomes its own doctrinal center.

The result is not unity but plurality. This is why Lutheranism fractured almost immediately after Luther's death. In fact, Lutherans disagreed from the beginning. Luther disagreed with Karlstadt on the Lord's Supper, images, liturgy, and the pace of reform. He disagreed with Melanchthon on free will, the law, the sacraments, and the role of reason. The conflict between Gnesio‑Lutherans vs. Philippists evolved into a full‑blown civil war inside Lutheranism.

Sola Scriptura guarantees interpretive diversity, because Scripture is not a commentary on itself. It contains no inspired hermeneutical manual. These require interpretive decisions: law and gospel, wisdom and apocalyptic, narrative and poetry. Some read Scripture through a historical‑critical lens, some through a confessional‑dogmatic lens, some through a pietistic or charismatic lens, and some through a sacramental‑liturgical lens. Sola Scriptura does not adjudicate between these.

Human reason and experience inevitably enter the process. Even Luther admitted this when he said: "Scripture is clear, but not to us." What he means is that clarity is in the text, but the interpreter is clouded. Without a magisterium, the "final authority" becomes the interpreter. This is why Lutheranism, Calvinism, Anabaptism, and later evangelicalism all diverged despite claiming the same principle.

The irony is that Lutherans appeal to Scripture alone, but in reality they rely on confessions. Confessional Lutheranism insists that the Bible is the only norm, while the Confessions are the correct interpretation of the Bible. But this only shifts the problem: Who interprets the Confessions? Who decides what counts as "confessional"? Who adjudicates new doctrinal questions not addressed in the 16th century?

Thus the disagreements continue. Lutheranism claims Scripture alone, but in practice it operates with a thin, rationalized hermeneutic that suppresses the supernatural world of the Bible. The result is a tradition that claims unity in Scripture but lives in interpretive diversity.

For example, when it is asserted that the Flood narrative depicts a literal, global catastrophe, this contradicts most scholars of religion. Flood myths are widespread across the world and typically express the primordial fear that chaos might engulf the ordered world. The sea functions as a traditional symbol of chaos, as seen in the Gospel account of Jesus stilling the storm on the Sea of Galilee.

Ancient peoples lacked any notion of fixed natural laws; they believed that cosmic order depended on the ongoing favour of the gods. Hence the Aztecs offered sacrifices to ensure that the gods remained benevolent and that the sun would rise again. The underlying logic of the Flood myth is the fear that disorder will erupt when humanity violates divine commands. It carries a warning, one that remains worth taking seriously even today.