Christian Life and Witness. Nikolaus Ludwig von Zinzendorf
I will suggest some of the significant features of the age in which he lived, sketch the course of his own life, and, finally, point to a few reasons he ought to continue to matter to Christians even in the present.
The time of Zinzendorf’s birth in Dresden as the son of an imperial count was an age of cultural flowering in Saxony. It was a high-water mark for the region. Art, literature, and language were shaped by the style called “baroque.” It is not too much to say that Dresden was, in fact, a center of baroque culture. In other words, paintings, buildings, sculpture, and speech were ornately decorated. There were gratuitous flourishes everywhere. If a painting seemed to require excessive ornament, then in speech a simple declarative sentence could hardly do. The reader will encounter in Zinzendorf this baroque inclination to speak prose as if it were poetry; to construct long sentences with subordinate clauses; to say, not merely “God,” but “the dear, kind God;” to say not merely “Jesus,” but to add a whole parenthetical list of titles. It is language with a flourish.
Politically, it was the age of absolutism in Saxony, following the French model. The electoral prince of Saxony, or elector, was Friedrich August I (1670–1733), called “the Strong.” In 1697 he took the Polish throne, and in Poland his title was “August II.” Thus, from 1697–1733 he ruled both Saxony and Poland. He was continually in need of money, not least because he spent extravagantly. But extravagant spending seemed to fit the baroque spirit. He had grand, one might say fantastic, political plans. His faith, his relation to God, was decidedly secondary to and in the service of, his political ambitions. It was this, together with his absolutist program, which provoked criticism and opposition from the ranks of the Saxon nobility.
A movement had taken shape and gained momentum among the nobility, some professors of theology, and some clergy. A good deal of the criticism of the prince came from people active in this movement who were particularly moved to opposition by the prince’s willingness to sacrifice faith for political ends. The movement came to be called “Pietism.” A number of sources gave rise to it. But Lutheran Pietism had one central conviction: that Lutheran theology, the Lutheran confessional writings, worship attendance, talk about God, indeed, the very existence of the Christian Church itself, amounted to emptiness, at best a thin ethical porridge and some metaphysical crumbs, apart from living faith in Jesus Christ that is active in love, a deep personal engagement with Scripture, and a life of prayer. Pietists reacted strongly against a Christianity that had come to be indentified largely with the cognitive: getting the doctrine right. While they did not disparage right doctrine, they called for a Christian life that likewise engaged the affective, the volitional, and the ethical. With the doctrine as a framework a Christian life must be constructed, they thought, by a vital relationship of trust and love with the One to whom all the doctrines point and bear witness; and this relationship, if it is authentic, must shape and drive the affections, the will, and the way one conducted oneself.
The Pietist interest in the will and the affections drove them to a close acquaintance with devotional literature and intense engagement with the Bible. They also learned to open themselves to each other and to speak the truth to each other even when it was hard. But their attention was not turned merely to the inward. Lutheran Pietists had begun sending missionaries outside the continent to take the message concerning Jesus Christ to people who had not heard it. These missionaries were few and the sending was sporadic, but they were the first Protestant missionaries sent to foreign lands.
Lutheran Orthodox theologians sharply opposed the Pietist movement. They accused Pietists of altering doctrine, of subjectivizing the objective truths of the faith, of putting all the emphasis on regeneration and renewal rather than on justification, of thinking and speaking of salvation in a synergistic way (i.e., as though God’s grace does not accomplish all, but rather requires our action), of undermining the status and function of the clergy, and of embarking on mission when God had not called for it. Orthodoxy argued that the Gospel had already been carried to every place God intended it to go. Therefore, there was to be no mission. If there were people who had never had an opportunity to hear the Gospel, to hear of Jesus Christ, it was the fault of their ancestors, who presumably had rejected the message. Pietism continued on its way nevertheless. There were exchanges, sometimes harsh, between Lutheran Orthodox and Lutheran Pietist leaders.
Among the Pietist critics of Friedrich August the Strong was one of the prince’s own counselors, an imperial count named Georg Ludwig von Zinzendorf. Georg Ludwig was a close friend of Philipp Jakob Spener, who is usually referred to as the founder of the Lutheran Pietist movement. Moreover, Georg Ludwig von Zinzendorf was the father of Nikolaus Ludwig, the author of our speeches.
Six weeks after Nikolaus was born Georg Ludwig, 38 years old, died of what seems to have been tuberculosis. Nikolaus’ mother, Charlotte Justine (daughter of Nikolaus von Gersdorf, prefect of Upper Lusatia) took her infant son and went to live with her parents. Two older children from Georg Ludwig’s first marriage went to live with Georg Ludwig’s brother, a Field Marshall. Two years later Nikolaus von Gersdorf himself died. At that point, Charlotte’s mother moved the whole family to her ancestral home, the castle of Gross Hennersdorf in Upper Lusatia, roughly sixty miles east of Dresden. In 1704 Charlotte married Dubislaw Gneomer von Natzmer, a Prussian Field Marshall, and moved with him to Berlin. Four-year-old Nikolaus was left with his grandmother in Gross Hennersdorf.
All this leaving behind of children following death and remarriage may strike the contemporary reader as very strange, or at least very sad. But this is how life was in eighteenth century Europe. Death often came early and children had to be taken in by relatives or friends. It was Nikolaus’ great good fortune to be left to be nurtured and educated by his grandmother, Henriette Katherina von Gersdorf.
Henriette Katherina von Gersdorf was a brilliant and accomplished woman. She had gained recognition among the educated as a poet in both German and Latin. She painted in oils and was a talented musician. By letter from her castle she continued to wield considerable influence at Friedrich August the Strong’s court in Dresden. Moreover, she corresponded with Leibniz, the great German philosopher. She read his work and engaged his thought critically. His letters to her reveal that he took her very seriously as a philosophical conversation partner. Long before Nikolaus’ birth she had been an enthusiastic participant in the Lutheran Pietist movement. There were Pietist gatherings in her castle and Pietist leaders such as Philipp Spener, August Hermann Francke, and Paul Anton were frequent guests in her home. She made generous financial contributions to their projects (e.g., the Franckesche Stiftung, which is still in operation today in the city of Halle and was founded and built partly with von Gersdorf money). She took care of large numbers of orphans, widows, and the poor in her region. She read theology in both German and Latin and learned biblical Hebrew and Koine Greek in order to read the Scriptures in their original languages. Finally, she managed the large estate that came with her castle with dexterity and skill. So it was to this powerful and remarkable woman that Zinzendorf’s mother entrusted his care. Nor did it do any harm that little Nikolaus was the apple of her eye.
There were no other small children on this (then) somewhat remote estate. So the Count grew up without playmates his own age. He spent a considerable amount of time during his childhood alone, though his mother’s sister still lived in the castle. She was fifteen years older than he and was more like another parent than a playmate. Still, during his childhood their relationship was close.
Zinzendorf participated daily in the devotional services his grandmother led, attendance at which was required for all the employees of the estate. He was sometimes underfoot in the midst of the estate’s bustling activity. But he also made his own projects. And his grandmother von Gersdorf undertook his education. Some of it was carried out by hired tutors and some of it she did herself. But his engagement with other people was with adults and not with other children.
In the midst of all this activity—particularly the Scripture, prayer, and hymns of the devotional exercises, with famous Pietist leaders coming and going—it is not surprising that this extraordinarily talented child was also religiously precocious. There are many stories of his seeking ways to express his love for Jesus. As a very small boy he wrote notes to Jesus, expressing his devotion to and love for his Savior. He would throw the notes out the window so that the Savior would receive them. After public worship he could repeat the pastor’s prayers verbatim for