and its
reputation was better than that of the other orders. Luther meant to be
a monk of the original type.

Since the days of Alexander of Hales, Albert the Great, and Thomas
Aquinas the Roman Church teaches that there is in the Church a treasury
of supererogatory works, that is, of good works which Christ and the
saints have performed in excess of what is ordinarily demanded of every
man in the way of upright living. We shall meet with this idea again in
another connection. It flows from the monastic principles. Monks must
have not only enough sanctity for their own needs, but to spare. Of this
superfluous sanctity they may make an assignment in favor of others. Do
not smile incredulously; monks actually make such assignments. Luther
may not have thought of this when he entered the cloister, but he
rejoiced in this scheme of substitutive sanctity later. He thought he
had found in monkery a gold-mine of holiness that would be sufficient
not only for himself, but also for his parents. While at Rome some years
later, he was in a way sorry that his father and mother were not already
in purgatory. He had such a fine chance there to accumulate
supererogatory good works which he might have transferred to them to
shorten their agonies, or release them entirely.

In order to make a successful monk, one must be either a Pharisee or an
epicurean. The Pharisee takes an inventory of the works named in the Law
of God, and sets out to perform these in an external, mechanical manner.
He adds a few works of his own invention for good measure. Every work
performed counts; it constitutes merit. On the basis of his two pecks
and a half of merit the Pharisee now begins to drive a bargain with God:
for so much merit he claims so much distinction and glory. He figures it
all out to God, so that God shall not make a mistake at the time of the
settlement: I have not been this, nor that, nor the other thing; I have
done this, and that, and some more. Consequently . . . ! The epicurean
is a jolly fatalist. Whatever is to happen will happen. Why worry? Go
along at an even pace; eat, drink, be merry, but for Heaven's sake do
not take a serious or tragical view of anything! Take things as they
are; if you can improve them, well and good; if not, let it pass; forget
it; eat a good meal and go to sleep.

Luther was never an epicurean. The seriousness of life had confronted
him at a very early date. The sense of duty was highly developed in him