FUNDAMENTAL

CONCEPTS
IN
MAX WEBER’S
SOCIOLOGY
OF
RELIGION

Christopher Adair-Toteff
Fundamental Concepts in Max Weber’s Sociology of Religion
This page intentionally left blank
Fundamental Concepts in
Max Weber’s Sociology
of Religion

Christopher Adair-Toteff

Palgrave
macmillan
FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN MAX WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION
Copyright © Christopher Adair-Toteff 2015
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DOI: 10.1057/9781137454799

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Adair-Toteff, Christopher.
Fundamental concepts in Max Weber’s Sociology of religion /
Christopher Adair-Toteff.
pages cm
Includes bibliographical references and index.

1. Weber, Max, 1864–1920. Religionssoziologie. 2. Religion and

sociology. I. Title.
BL60.W43A33 2015
306.6092—dc23 2015016505
A catalogue record of the book is available from the British Library.
 Contents

Preface vii

Part I Conceptual Contexts

1 Introduction 3
2 From Roman Agrarianism to Sociology of Religion 9
3 Conceptual Influences and Developments 33

Part II Fundamental Concepts

4 Asceticism and Mysticism 55
5 Prophets and Pariah-People 83
6 Salvation and Theodicy 105
7 Charisma 131

Notes 157
Bibliography 179
Index 199
This page intentionally left blank
 Preface

T he sociology of religion, and more specifically, Max Weber’s

sociology of religion, has been the focus of much of my
scholarly research for almost a decade and a half. They were
not my original interests; indeed, neither was sociology in gen-
eral. Instead, my interest was originally in philosophy and my
university education reflected this. During the late 1960s and
early 1970s, the dominant philosophy in the United States, as in
Great Britain, was analytical philosophy. So, as an undergradu-
ate, I was trained primarily in that type of philosophy. During
this time, I learned the importance of conceptual clarity, but
what I also learned was that philosophy had been reduced to
being a linguistic tool. It had little use for the age-old questions
about the meaning of life and how one should act; as a result,
in graduate school, I turned increasingly to the study of the his-
tory of philosophy. I went back to ancient philosophy and pri-
marily to Plato’s philosophy. Plato’s metaphysics was intriguing
and how he used it to justify his politics was impressive, but his
division of the world into the ideal and its mere copy was less
than compelling. I moved to study Aristotle and then I really
focused on Kant. I had intended to write my PhD dissertation
on the Paralogisms section of the Critique of Pure Reason and
had successfully defended a dissertation proposal on this when
I was strongly urged not to focus on Kantianism, but instead
on Neo-Kantianism. The resulting dissertation centered on the
long-term Neo-Kantian debate concerning Kant’s conception
of space. This led me to appreciate how often we overlook the
backgrounds of many of the classical German sociologists. For
viii PREFACE

one example, we think of Georg Simmel as primarily a sociolo-

gist, but he was trained as a philosopher and was one who spe-
cialized on Kant’s philosophy. He did not contribute directly to
the Neo-Kantian discussion of space, but he did raise important
points about Kant’s place in philosophy and his lack of interest
in historical issues. Something similar is true about Ferdinand
Tönnies—that his interest was in political philosophy and he
concentrated not just on Marx but especially on Hobbes. Unlike
Simmel and Tönnies, Ernst Troeltsch was not educated as a phi-
losopher, but as a theologian; nonetheless, his writings from 1900
on show an impressive knowledge of many aspects of philosophy
and a real mastery of Kantian ethics. Following my PhD I began
to write on Simmel, Tönnies, and then Troeltsch, and finally to
concentrate on Max Weber. Unlike the first three, Weber never
had any particular interest in any general philosophical top-
ics and he was concerned primarily with logic and concepts.
In Wissenschaft als Beruf, he underscores the power of reason
and he extols the importance of concepts. Concepts were crit-
ical to Weber’s social thinking throughout most of his life and
although he continually insisted on conceptual clarity, he often
did not live up to his own standards. As a result, many of his
fundamental concepts are not as clear as they could have been
and scholars have often debated what he meant by them. This
has been especially true in regard to concepts in Weber’s sociol-
ogy of religion. This was certainly problematic for students, but
it became increasing evident that even Weberian scholars were
not always able to comprehend what Weber meant by certain
concepts like “charisma,” “asceticism,” and “theodicy.” This was
made apparent to me while participating in a number of confer-
ences that were devoted to Weber, in lectures, and especially
during discussions. This lack of understanding and even con-
fusion is what helped prompt me to write this book; that and
my own struggles with understanding many of the concepts in
Weber’s sociology of religion. I do not claim to have the defin-
itive answer to what Weber meant by these various concepts,
but I do believe that I have drawn sufficient attention to various
 PREFACE ix

aspects about them and that will prompt others to pay closer
attention to how Weber uses these concepts. Weber was never
a philosopher and he evidently never had the desire to become
one but, like any good philosopher, he recognized the critical
importance of concepts. One would never expect to see Weber’s
name alongside Plato, Aristotle, or Kant, but like these great
philosophers, he expected scholars to use concepts properly,
that is, clearly and consistently.
A number of people were especially helpful during the course
of thinking about and then writing this book. These include
Edith Hanke, Sam Whimster, and Richard Swedberg. As always,
I owe a debt of gratitude to my wife, Stephanie, for going over
successive drafts and helping to ensure that my own concepts
are clear and my writing intelligible. I also owe a huge debt of
gratitude to Stephen P. Turner for his encouragement and for
his criticisms. For over 20 years, Stephen has been a continual
source of inspiration for my research and a constant reminder
of the importance of Weber. For all that he has done, and that
he continues to do for scholars, I dedicate this book to Stephen
Turner.
 Part I

Conceptual Contexts
 1

Introduction

M ax Weber was many things: a lawyer, an economist,

a political thinker, and a sociologist. One of the few
things that he was not was a philosopher. Although he had
studied philosophy, he had little use for the German tendency
toward idealistic speculation. However, he did share with Kant
and the Neo-Kantians—his successors from the late nineteenth
and early twentieth century—a recognition of the importance
that concepts play in thinking. This is evident throughout all
of Weber’s thinking, but may be especially true with respect to
his sociology of religion. There, he employs a number of con-
cepts—concepts that are so important that it is probably correct
to regard them as being fundamental to his efforts to develop
a sociology of religion. This is true throughout his writings on
the sociology of religion, but a good indication of the impor-
tance that he placed on conceptual analysis is found first in
the 1904/1905 edition of the Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of
Capitalism. In a footnote in the first section of the second part,
he wrote about Jacob Burckhardt’s importance for showing the
development of the concept of the individual. While Weber
praises him for this analysis, he notes that it has been partially
revised. And while Weber is speaking primarily about what
such a particular analysis should be in regarding the notion
of the individual, it is evident that Weber holds this to be true
in general. He wrote, “A fundamental, historically-oriented
4 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

conceptual analysis would now certainly be again of the high-

est scholarly worth.” (“Eine gr ündliche, historisch orientierte
Begriffsanalyse wäre gerade jetzt wieder wissenschaftlich
höchst wertvoll.”) (Weber 2014: 262). In a real sense, much of
Weber’s work is the attempt to carry out these conceptual anal-
yses. Unfortunately, as much as he regarded these conceptual
analyses as important, he did not always succeed. Moreover,
regarding the concepts themselves, he did not always explain
them as fully or as clearly as he could have. As a result, there are
some misunderstandings about these concepts. The purpose of
this book, therefore, is to explain some of the fundamental con-
cepts in Max Weber’s sociology of religion. I do not claim that I
examine all of Weber’s concepts, but I do believe that I address
most of the important ones. There are a total of seven concepts,
and six of them are placed in pairs: asceticism and mysticism,
salvation and theodicy, pariah and prophets, and with charisma
standing alone. They are paired because Weber often compares
and contrasts concepts. This is especially true regarding ascet-
icism and mysticism, but applies only in degrees to the others.
These accounts are lengthy, but they are by no means exhaus-
tive. First, despite Weber’s insistence on the importance of con-
ceptual clarity, he rarely achieves that himself. Second, these
topics are of such importance that a chapter is not sufficient to
explain all aspects. Articles have and will be written that have
and will take up aspects of these concepts that either are not
sufficiently explored here or are simply overlooked. The types
of concepts that Weber uses are not intended to be a reflection
of the actual world. Rather, they are special types of concepts—
ones that Weber refers to as “ideal types.” What he meant by
that will be explained later but, as a follower of Kant, Weber
believed that they are not pictures of reality, but are mental
constructs. For Kant, there are a number of concepts that he
calls “pure” and, by “pure concepts,” he means the fundamen-
tal concepts by which the mind organizes appearances. These
include the “pure concepts” of subject and causality. Without
these, there can be no experience because, according to Kant,
 INTRODUCTION 5

experience is the combination of two things. First, the matter is

given to us in perception and second, the understanding then
provides objective ordering. Weber’s use of “pure” with respect
to concepts is not like Kant’s, however, they are “pure” in the
sense that they are not found in reality. Instead of providing
the fundamental epistemological framework, Weber’s pure
concepts are epistemological tools—they are heuristic devices
that help explain the world. What Weber means by this is set
out in Part I of this book.
Chapter 2 offers a biographical and historical sketch of
Weber’s transformation from a lawyer to an economist and then
to a scholar who was interested in the connections between eco-
nomics and social factors. His interest in the development of
modern capitalism led him to write the Protestant Ethic and the
Spirit of Capitalism. This work is not, as is often thought, a very
new direction in Weber’s thinking. Instead, it is connected to
his earlier work on the agrarian crisis in the area of Germany
that was east of the Elbe River. What does make it novel is that
Weber had begun to develop certain methodological tools and
he employed them in the Protestant Ethic. Weber returned to
the theme of capitalism and focused on its connection to ratio-
nalism. The writings on China, India, and on ancient Judaism
are designed to show what conditions were lacking that prohib-
ited the rise of modern capitalism. Weber often reminded his
readers that the love of money and the sense of greed knew no
boundaries in time or space. However, the conditions that made
modern capitalism possible in the West grew out of the theo-
logical notion of “Beruf” and the Doctrine of Predestination.
Weber never insisted that there was a direct causal connection
between Luther’s notion of “Beruf” and Calvin’s Doctrine of
Predestination; what he did was suggest that these were the likely
causes that helped form a certain mental attitude and a particu-
lar conduct of life. The lack of knowing that one was among the
Elect made the Calvinist engage in the relentless dedication to
business, not in order to acquire more money, but for the greater
glory for God. Their theological ethics made them committed to
6 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

work and their religious convictions rejected earthly pleasures.

It was not just that the notion of “Beruf” and the Doctrine of
Predestination were Western, but that they set in motion the
process that gradually replaced the theological foundation with
a moral one, only to develop to the point that both the theologi-
cal aspect and the moral one fell away. Thus, the modern capital-
ist lacks the theological and philosophical foundation and is left
with the innate desire to acquire more and more money.
Chapter 3 is focused on the philosophical background and
legal context for Weber’s development of his various conceptual
instruments. The issue of how much influence Heinrich Rickert
and other members of the Southwest school of Neo-Kantianism
had on Weber continues to be debated. However, it is not a ques-
tion of if they influenced him, but of how much they did. Weber
himself contributes to the question and answers it—he allowed
that he had learned much from Rickert but that he found that
Rickert’s formulations were too narrow. It is less well known that
Weber also relied on his younger friend Emil Lask, making use of
Lask’s important contribution to the philosophy of law as well as
his writings on epistemology. It is far less well known that Weber
learned from the historian Eduard Meyer and his close friend
and legal scholar Georg Jellinek. This chapter traces the neo-
Kantian influences and investigates how Weber supplemented
them with the methodological contributions of Lask, Meyer, and
Jellinek. It then focuses on Weber’s own methodological tools,
specifically on his notion of the ideal type.
Part II is devoted to the individual concepts in Max Weber’s
sociology of religion. Chapter 4 is the discussion of asceticism
and mysticism. The concept of asceticism is found through
most of Weber’s writings and has been the subject of some dis-
cussion. In contrast, the notion of mysticism is much less prev-
alent in Weber’s work and thus, it has received little scrutiny.
Nonetheless, mysticism is an important concept for Weber and
he often uses it in contrast to asceticism. Thus, mysticism is not
only important in order to understand asceticism, but also for
its own place in its own right. This chapter is intended to set out
 INTRODUCTION 7

what Weber meant by these two concepts, but it also is designed

to clarify three additional points. First, while Weber placed
more emphasis on asceticism than he did on mysticism, he still
believed that it was an important part of religion. Second, while
he contrasted asceticism as being active and mysticism as being
passive, he also noted that this contrast was not as firm and fixed
as he had originally suggested. Third, while Weber showed an
obvious personal preference for asceticism, he was also person-
ally interested in mysticism.
Chapter 5 is the discussion of prophets and pariah peo-
ple. Weber was interested in the notion of prophecy as found
throughout the world, and he used people from different places
to serve as examples in his distinction between “exemplary
prophets” and “ethical prophets.” However, he appeared most
concerned with the Old Testament Prophets. For Weber, the Old
Testament Prophets were not just theologically important, but
they were politically important as well. They were instructed by
God to warn the people of their moral and legal failings and to
indicate the doom that would come as a result. However, Weber
regarded these prophets also as being politically important and
he used them as examples of charismatic leaders. The fact that
they were often regarded as outsiders connects them to Weber’s
notion of the pariah people. He noted that there have been differ-
ent peoples who have been regarded as pariah peoples, and that
prophets have been found in many different religions, he con-
centrates primarily on Jews as being the pariah people. Weber’s
discussions of the Jews as the pariah people are controversial.
What makes his discussions of the Old Testament Prophets even
more important is that Weber’s discussions of them show that he
was not anti-Semitic and was not a racist. Rather, he had consid-
erable respect for the Jews and held some of the Old Testament
Prophets in high personal regard.
Chapter 6 is the discussion of the concepts of theodicy and
salvation. Unlike asceticism and mysticism, these concepts are
not contraries, but like them they are related. The notion of
salvation is shared with most, but not all world religions, and
8 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

Weber’s focus is mostly on Christianity’s various conceptions of

it. In addition, Weber spends a considerable effort in discussing
the notion of salvation with respect to the Jews. Although there
are many religions that are salvation religions, not all are, and
Weber shows in what ways that are fundamentally different. The
notion of theodicy is more limited than the concept of salvation,
and it is more resistant to understanding. Weber’s own treat-
ment of theodicy is unusual because of two factors: he explains
it better than many theologians and he also includes his own
theodicy of happiness.
Chapter 7 is the discussion of charisma. While Weber employs
it in a wider range than merely the sociology of religion, he notes
that its origins are in religious thinking and much of its major
impact has been in religion. Weber famously locates charisma in
his sociology of “Herrschaften” (“authority”) and he contrasts
it with the other two pure types: legal and traditional. Unlike
these, charismatic authority is rather rare and highly unusual;
it breaks with tradition and is originally resistant to legal rules.
However, the very qualities that make it a revolutionary power
make it short lived.
The two main chapters that make up Part I are intended to be
read together; in contrast, the four chapters of Part II can be read
individually. Nonetheless, because Weber often refers to a num-
ber of concepts, the reader is encouraged to consult all of them
to gain a fuller understanding of each particular one. It does not
need to be repeated that other scholars might have selected a
slightly different list of topics or might have addressed them dif-
ferently. However, it probably does need to be repeated that since
Max Weber placed a huge amount of importance to discovering
the fundamental concepts, that a proper comprehension of these
concepts is critical to understanding his sociology of religion.
 2

From Roman Agrarianism to

Sociology of Religion

T here are several good reasons for dividing Max Weber’s

professional life into three sections: first he was a lawyer,
then a political economist, and finally he became a sociolo-
gist. He was educated as a jurist and his first professorship
was in law. When he took up the chair in national economy
at Freiburg, he entered a different area of specialization and,
within an extraordinarily short time, became an expert in
economics (Weber 2009a: viii, 2). While he was one of the
founders of the Deutsche Gesellschaft f ü r Soziologie, Weber
initially had rather ambivalent feelings about sociology. Not
until 1913 did he begin to refer to the work that would become
Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft as “my sociology,” and it was much
later still that he admitted in a letter to Robert Liefmann dated
March 1920 that he had become a “sociologist” (Schluchter
2009a: 70; Weber 2012a: 946). However, Weber’s professional
life cannot be divided so neatly, and because of three impor-
tant reasons. First, his legal, economic, and cultural interests
overlapped throughout his life. Second, he objected to much
of what was called “sociology.” Third, his concern with eco-
nomics in general and capitalism in particular was shared
with a number of important scholars, however, his attitude
and approach toward these topics differed considerably from
those of his colleagues.
10 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

Max Weber grew up in a family that was “steeped in the

intellectual culture of the law” (Turner and Factor 1994: 3). His
father was a jurist and a politician, and many of the visitors to
the Weber house in Berlin where either lawyers or were inter-
ested in law because of their involvement with politics. Max
Weber himself was educated as a legal scholar and he thought
of himself as being one throughout his life (Poggi 1983: 14;
Weber 1986: 6; Weber 2009a: 5). He valued legal studies: con-
sider his appreciation for Emil Lask’s “Rechtsphilosophie” in the
1905 “Festschrift” for Kuno Fischer and his insistence that three
of the nine papers presented at the 1910 DGS conference were
to be on law.1 As a lawyer, he was taught to think rigorously and
to use clear concepts. He was trained to apply rules impartially
and to use cases to build an argument. As a jurist he was taught
to recognize the equal importance of theory and empirical fact.
Weber continued to use his legal expertise in almost every area
to which he turned his attention (Berman and Reid 2000: 223).
He appreciated scholars who contributed to the study of law, like
Troeltsch and Kantorowicz, and few things seemed to disturb
Weber more than shoddy legal thinking. The most famous case
is Weber’s decade and a half long attack on Rudolf Stammler’s
Wirtschaft und Recht (Adair-Toteff 2014b). Weber remained
loyal to the study and the importance of law, but his expertise
and reputation went far beyond it.
Weber is “widely regarded as the greatest figure in the his-
tory of the social sciences” and as “der Klassiker” his influence
oversteps all disciplinary and even political boundaries (Turner
2000: 1; Müller 2007: 9). In his recent biography Jürgen Kaube
considers Weber a lawyer, national economist, and sociologist
(as well as a historian). Weber was the best known social scien-
tist of his time, and he is probably the best known now as well
(Kaube 2014: 12, 16). Weber’s interdisciplinary reputation is
well deserved; he seemed to have had little use for the confining
restrictions typical of the various disciplines.
Weber had both some hope and some serious reservations
regarding the prospects that sociology could become a scholarly
 FROM ROMAN AGRARIANISM TO SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION 11

discipline. Prior to 1909, sociology did not exist as a scientific

discipline in Germany—there were no sociology departments
and no professors of sociology. There were no sociology journals
and no sociological associations. This changed in January 1909
with the formation of the Deutsche Gesellschaft für Soziologie.
Weber was one of the founding members and one of the lead-
ing forces of this association. The first conference was held in
Frankfurt in October the following year and among the major
speakers were Ferdinand Tönnies, Georg Simmel, Werner
Sombart, Ernst Troeltsch, and Weber. Part of the reason that
Weber was interested in promoting the DGS was that he believed
that it could, and should, be a better alternative to the Verein für
Sozialpolitik. It would be better because the members of the DGS
would be held to a stricter standard and would refrain from con-
flating scholarly analysis with political beliefs. This was Weber’s
“principle of freedom from value judgments” (“Prinzip der
Werturteilsfreiheit”) (Müller 2007: 68). Weber was not adverse
to value judgments; in fact, he recognized their importance
and made them frequently, but he objected to the introduction
of political opinion into scholarly discourse. As a student of
Heinrich von Treitschke in Berlin Weber experienced firsthand
the pernicious results when a leading scholar mixed his per-
sonal beliefs with his academic lectures (Weber 1936: 174–175).
Weber thought highly of von Treitschke’s Deutsche Geschichte
but he complained how the students responded enthusiastically
to von Treitschke’s anti-Semitic and anti-Catholic comments
during his lectures. Weber also frequently saw evidence in the
1890s and the 1900s of how destructive it was when social sci-
ence and social policy were not kept separate, but were mixed
in the conferences for the Verein für Sozialpolitik. As a result
of these experiences Weber wanted to ensure that value judg-
ments would be kept separate from scholarship. When he, along
with Werner Sombart and Edgar Jaffé, took over the editorship
of the Archiv für Sozialwissenschaft und Sozialpolitik, Weber
expressly addressed the importance of keeping them separate
(Weber 1922a: 149), and in the very first of the statutes for the
12 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

DGS, Weber made sure that the purpose of the association was
purely scientific and that all members were bound by the rule to
set aside any and all “practical” goals (Verhandlungen 1911: v).
Weber had thought that the DGS would compare favorably to
the Verein für Sozialpolitik. While the former lacked some of the
famous names of the latter, he had believed that the insistence on
scholarly analyses would help set the DGS apart from the Verein.
Unfortunately, to Weber’s anger, too many of the members of the
DGS did not abide by the statutes (Verhandlungen 1913: 78–79).
Weber wrote to Hermann Beck that he was resigning from the
DGS (Weber 1998: 709). He wrote that he wished the DGS well,
but because of the blurring of the boundaries between facts and
values, he could no longer participate in the sociological confer-
ences and no longer wished to be a member of the DGS.
While he had resigned from the DGS he was moving toward
becoming a sociologist. His 1913 article in Logos was titled “Ueber
einige Kategorien der verstehenden Soziologie” (“On Some
Categories of Understanding Sociology”) (Weber 1913: 253–294;
1922a: 403–450). His last lecture at Munich was titled “Allgemeine
Staatslehre und Politik” (“General Theory of the State and
Politics”) but carried the subtitle “Staatssoziologie” (“Sociology
of the State”) (Weber 2009c). He specifically connected his dis-
cussion of the state with his typology of domination, that is, his
“Herrschaftssoziologie” (Weber 2009c: 33–39, 76–100). While
Weber may have been hesitant to refer to himself as a sociol-
ogist, he can be credited with being the founder of a number
of different subsections of sociology: “Herrschaftssoziologie,”
“Rechtssoziologie,” “Wirtschaftssoziologie,” and of course,
“Religionssoziologie” (Lichtblau 2006a: 11). What is important
here is the third and fourth type.
According to Richard Swedberg, Weber was the founder and
the most important representative of “Wirtschaftssoziologie”
(Swedberg 2010a: 7; 1998: 5). Weber’s interest in econom-
ics was not a passing interest; rather, it was his lifelong preoc-
cupation. As Swedberg and Hinnerk Bruhns have separately
argued, Weber was concerned with economic history and
 FROM ROMAN AGRARIANISM TO SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION 13

economic theory from the very beginning of his academic career

(Swedberg 1998: 180–188). While at Heidelberg Weber studied
not only law but also economics; in 1893 he took a course from
Karl Knies titled “Allgemeine Volkswirthschaftslehre (theore-
tische Nationalökonomie)” (Weber 2009a: 1). Eleven years later,
Weber’s first offering at Freiburg as the newly appointed profes-
sor was “Allgemeine (‘theoretische’ Nationalökonomie)” (Weber
2009a: 801), and it is present at the end of his life with his sec-
ond to the last lecture course: “Abriß der universalen Sozial- und
Wirtschaftsgeschichte” from 1919–1920 (Weber 2011). However,
Weber was not a theoretical economist nor was he an econom-
ics historian; he neither fit in the Austrian School of economics
nor in the Historical School. While he counted himself as hav-
ing been a member of the latter, he had learned from both (see
Swedberg 1998: 174–177; Weber 2009a: 21–31). Weber was nei-
ther interested in economic theory for theory’s sake (like many
of the Austrian School) nor was he interested in economics in
order to rectify social injustices (as with many of the Historical
School). Rather, he was interested in studying economics and
economic history for a better understanding of “cultural” prob-
lems. Like many of his contemporaries Weber used the term
“culture” in a very large sense and it covered almost every aspect
of human life—economics, history, philosophy, and religion.2 In
particular, Weber recognized that there were a number of ways
in which economic and religion were interrelated, and for him
one of the most important ones was the issue of the rise of mod-
ern capitalism.
It is sometimes believed that Werner Sombart was the pri-
mary person responsible for Weber’s interest in the develop-
ment of modern capitalism. Sombart’s two volume Der moderne
Kapitalismus appeared in its first edition in 1902, that is, only
two years before Weber’s Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of
Capitalism. There is much to recommend this view, however, as
Sam Whimster has shown, Weber took issue with a number of
Sombart’s claims and has noted that Georg Simmel’s Philosophie
des Geldes also prompted Weber’s interest in the origins of
14 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

capitalism (Whimster 2006: 319–335). I grant that Sombart fig-

ures prominently in the early part of the Protestant Ethic and
I concede that Weber had a high regard for Simmel’s book.
However, Weber mentions Simmel and his book only once in the
first edition of the Protestant Ethic and it is in a footnote devoted
primarily to Weber’s objection to Sombart (Weber 1996: 14 n.
22). There, Weber differentiated his work from that of Sombart,
suggesting that he was interested solely in understanding how
ethical concerns gave rise to capitalism, whereas Sombart was
preoccupied with the ethical results of capitalism. Weber con-
nected Sombart’s ethical objections about capitalism to the last
chapter in the Philosophie des Geldes where Simmel discussed in
great detail the tremendous alienation that results from modern
capitalism. Weber acknowledged that Simmel offered “brilliant
pictures” of this alienation, but he insisted that there he was not
going to address either Simmel’s discussion nor was he going to
engage Sombart’s points (Weber 1996: 14 n. 22; see Simmel 1908:
591–716).
This is not the place to offer a detailed differentiation between
Weber and Sombart on modern capitalism.3 Suffice it to men-
tion that in the first volume of moderne Kapitalismus, Sombart
dismisses the idea that certain religious communities could have
provided the foundational thinking for capitalism to develop;
the very opposite of Weber’s Protestant ethic thesis (Weber 1996:
8 n. 15; Sombart 1902: i, 380). If it was not Sombart, then who or
what could have provided the incentive for Weber’s interest in
modern capitalism.4
As Rita Aldenhoff-Hübinger has suggested, Weber’s interest
in the origins of modern capitalism can be found in his Freiburg
lectures on agrarian politics and therefore predates both works
(Weber 2008: 35). Moreover, as I have argued elsewhere, his
concern with the ethical and economic differences between
Protestants and Catholics can be traced back to his work in the
1890s on the agrarian problems in the East Elbian regions and
to his reliance on the work of his student Martin Offenbacher.5
These issues and the impact that they had on German politics is
 FROM ROMAN AGRARIANISM TO SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION 15

clearly in evidence in a number of Weber’s writings and lectures

from 1892 until his break down in 1897 (see Weber 2008). Briefly,
Weber was concerned about the increasing Polish Catholic pres-
ence in the Prussian regions east of the Elbe River. The Junker,
the class of Prussian landowners, was increasingly forced to
change the labor arrangements and to employ more Polish
workers because of a number of economic factors. This was not
a new problem but had its origins several decades previously, but
Weber warned of the increasing need to save Germany’s econ-
omy and culture by erecting sufficient barriers to prevent the
“Slavic flood.”6 Weber continued to warn against the decline of
the Prussian agrarian economy, but his teachings at Freiburg and
then at Heidelberg began to focus more on industrial issues and
the question of factory workers. These were not merely economic
questions, but were bound up with religious issues as well. One
of the differences between Weber’s lectures and the Protestant
Ethic is the shift of focus from the agrarian laborers of the
Northeast to the factory workers in the Southwest. But, the con-
trast between (German) Protestants and the (Polish) Catholics
reappears in Martin Offenbacher’s 1900 work Konfession und
soziale Schichtung. Ein Studie über die wirtschaftliche Lage der
Katholiken und Protestanten in Baden.7 Offenbacher had learned
from Weber the correlation between Confessions and economic
prosperity and had applied it to Baden, Germany. In turn, Weber
utilized Offenbacher’s findings and that explains why Weber
cites him so frequently in the opening pages of the Protestant
Ethic.8
In the 1904–1905 version of the Protestant Ethic Weber does
not refer to it as a part of his sociology of religion. Indeed, for
the most part Weber had yet to invent “Religionssoziologie.” In
the introduction to the collection Religionssoziologie um 1900
Volkhard Krech and Hartmann Tyrell argued that a German
sociology of religion did not exist until the turn of the century,
that is, 1900 (Krech und Tyrell 1995b: 11, 14). That certainly does
not mean that it did not exist at all, but it does mean that it did not
exist in Germany at that time, and it does mean that scholars were
16 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

working in various ways that were leading to the development of

“Religionssoziologie.” These included Ferdinand Tönnies, Georg
Simmel, and Ernst Troeltsch (Krech und Tyrell 1995b: 19, 25).
Some may question the impact that Tönnies had on developing
“Religionssoziologie” and others may object to Simmel’s work
on religion counting as “Religionssoziologie.”9 However, there is
no doubt that Troeltsch was, along with Weber, the cofounder of
sociology of religion in Germany (Krech 1995: 313).
Ernst Troeltsch had taken up his professorship at Heidelberg
in 1894, three years before Weber was called there. Once Weber
arrived, Weber and Troeltsch established a close friendship that
lasted until 1914, when they had a major disagreement regard-
ing the treatment of prisoners of war. Troeltsch and his wife
Marta lived upstairs in the Weber house from 1910 until 1914,
when Troeltsch moved to Berlin to take up a chair in philos-
ophy. There was probably no other living theologian who had
such an impact on Weber’s views and knowledge about religion
than Troeltsch. Weber relied on Troeltsch’s early writings, but
even more so on his works covering Protestantism. Specifically,
Troeltsch was working on his “Protestantisches Christentum und
Kirche in der Neuzeit” for the volume on Christianity for Paul
Hinneberg’s series “Die Kultur der Gegenwart” at the same time
that Weber was writing the Protestant Ethic.10 While on some
points, Troeltsch acknowledged that there were few differences
between Catholic and Protestant beliefs, he fully recognized
Martin Luther’s importance to the formation of the Reformation
(Troeltsch 1906: 276–283). Similarly, Troeltsch noted how Calvin
dismissed Luther’s God of love and replaced it with a belief in
the “unfathomableness” of God. Finally, Toeltsch recognized
the importance of Calvin’s doctrine of predestination (Troeltsch
1906: 306–312). Furthermore, Troeltsch will become even more
important for Weber’s conception of the sociology of religion,
but for now, the focus will be on the Protestant Ethic.11
Weber’s Protestant Ethic may be one of the most important
books in the history of sociology, but it is also one that has gen-
erated many misconceptions.12 Weber was not a historian and he
 FROM ROMAN AGRARIANISM TO SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION 17

did not intend to provide a historically accurate account of how

modern capitalism developed. Instead, he intended to offer an
“ideal typical” account that would help to explain how it arose.
Nor, did he believe that the account that he did offer was the only
way to explain this historical phenomenon; instead, he gave the
one that seemed to him to be the one best suited to explain the
genesis of modern capitalism. Finally, Weber was not attempt-
ing to provide a general account of peoples’ historical striving
for riches; rather, he argued that modern capitalism differed
from the universal lust for riches because it actually demanded
a rather sober approach to the individual’s acquisition of profit.
Weber’s emphasis on modern capitalism helped reinforce two
unfortunate misunderstandings and in turn these misunder-
standings led to some problematic consequences. First, it rein-
forced the mistaken belief that Weber was really only interested
in economics and second, it reinforced the erroneous conviction
that Weber was providing an actual historical account of early
Protestantism.13 These two misunderstandings led people to
minimize or ignore most of the religious and theological aspects
of the Protestant Ethic, and those who did consider them were
primarily historians and not theologians. Because Weber recog-
nized he was neither a theologian nor a historian of religion, he
had expected criticism from religious specialists. He was some-
what disappointed when they mostly chose to ignore his work.
Unfortunately, scholars still seem to focus most of their interest,
as well as their ire, on the subject of the latter part of the title and
to ignore the first part. For my purposes, it is crucial to keep in
mind that Weber’s two-part essay is titled “The Protestant Ethic
and the Spirit of Capitalism” and that his sociology of religion is
primarily the investigation of the interconnection between reli-
gious beliefs and economic conduct. Weber’s Protestant Ethic and
the Spirit of Capitalism is his first exploration into the relation-
ship between religion and economics and it can be regarded as
a point of departure for all of his later investigations (Küenzlen
1980: 11). But, one should be cautious when regarding Weber’s
investigations into the economic ethics of the world religions
18 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

as merely a continuation of the Protestant Ethic. This caution is

warranted because the relationship between Weber’s 1904–1905
work and his writing between 1914 and 1920 is not as straight-
forward as it may seem.14
In 1975, Friedrich Tenbruck published an essay “Das Werk
Max Webers” in which he argued several interrelated points.
First, we should not regard Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft as his
main work because Weber’s main points of sociology are to be
found in his investigations into the “economic ethic of the world
religions.” Second, the interconnected notions of rationaliza-
tion and the process of “disenchantment” are not found in the
1904/1905 edition of the Protestant Ethic, but are introduced only
when Weber reworked it for inclusion in his Gesammelte Aufsätze
zur Religionssoziologie (Tenbruck 1999: 63). Tenbruck minimizes
the importance that rationalization plays in Weber’s writings,
thus he criticizes Reinhard Bendix for thinking that it was of
paramount importance (Tenbruck 1999: 69). Furthermore, he
criticizes Bendix (and many others) for continuing to insist that
Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft was Weber’s major work; in large
measure because that meant that Weber’s other writings tended
to be ignored. In Tenbruck’s view, this was particularly prob-
lematic because the Gesammelte Aufsätze zur Religionssoziologie
contains most of Weber’s important discoveries (Tenbruck 1999:
71). Perhaps more importantly, Tenbruck argued that one should
not regard any portion of Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft as a contin-
uation of the Protestant Ethic, but that the Gesammelte Aufsätze
zur Relgionssoziologie were the legitimate successors to that ear-
lier work. As such, the Religionssoziologie contains Weber’s final
account (Tenbruck 1999: 73, 76, 89). Tenbruck published the
essay “Das Werk Max Webers” in 1975; four years later Wolfgang
Schluchter published his still important work Die Entwicklung
des okzidentalen Rationalisimus. Schluchter took issue with
Tenbruck’s claims about rationalization, arguing that Weber dis-
cusses its importance in works that were written far earlier than
Tenbruck allowed (Schluchter 1979: 7–9 and see note 18; see also
Schluchter 2009a: 1). In a later work Schluchter again took issue
 FROM ROMAN AGRARIANISM TO SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION 19

with Tenbruck’s claims, arguing that the Religionssoziologie was

no mere continuation of the Protestant Ethic (Schluchter 1985b:
528). That is because he regarded and continues to regard ratio-
nalization as a key concept in Weber’s thinking. Schluchter is
correct in this, but there are other forces at work, forces that
Schluchter also recognizes.
In 2009, Schluchter published a volume that contained six
essays on the disenchantment of the world. Each of them is
important for understanding Weber’s notion of rationalism,
but the one that is relevant here is on several of Weber’s key
concepts. The essay is titled “Ideen, Interessen, Institutionen:
Schlüsselbegriffe einer an Max Weber orientieten Soziologie.”
The terms “ideas, interests, institutions” refer to the famous pas-
sage in the “Einleitung” where Weber writes about the “switches”;
and Schluchter’s response is not to Tenbruck but to M. Rainer
Lepsius. The passage at issue is the following:

Interests (material and ideal), not: ideas immediately direct the

actions of men. But, the “world-pictures”, through which “ideas”
were created, frequently worked as switchmen that determined
the tracks by which they were propelled by the dynamic of the
interests in action.
Interessen (materielle und idealle), nicht: Ideen, beherreschen
unmittelbar das Handeln der Menschen. Aber: die “Weltbilder”,
welche durch “Ideen” geschaffen wurden, haben sehr oft als
Weichensteller die Bahnen bestimmt, in denen die Dynamik der
Interessen das Handlen fortbewegte. (Weber 1989: 101)

This passage has been much cited, and it has been much debated,
not least because Weber never defined most of the key terms in
it. Accordingly, “idea” and “interests” are crucial but unexplained,
while “institution” is neither that important nor explicated (See
Swedberg 2005: 121, 125, 128–131; Schluchter 2009b: 35–36).
Schluchter argued that Lepsius was wrong to introduce the notion
of institutions into this discussion because it is missing from this
passage. Furthermore, as Swedberg had noted, Weber was not that
20 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

concerned with institutions, but with the intersection between

ideas and interests.15 However, Schluchter, Lepsius, and Swedberg
all agree that the Protestant Ethic offers a paradigm case in which
ideas determine or are at least connected to interests (Lepsius 1990:
33–34, 41; Schluchter 2009b: 23, 25; Swedberg 2005: 121). Weber’s
conception is partially in response to historical materialism which
emphasized material circumstances and naïve idealism which
stressed ideas. Weber sought to show that while material interests
were indeed important, ideal interests were also important.16 While
Weber concentrates primarily on religiously connected ideal inter-
ests, they are not the only kinds that exist. Stephen Kalberg has
argued that various groups hold different types of ideal interests,
for example, warriors hold that honor and bravery are important
while tradesmen contend that good workmanship and honest busi-
ness transactions are integral to their professions. Kalberg extends
ideal interests to a number of different groups, including intellec-
tuals, bureaucrats, and even neighbors (Kalberg 1985: 49–50, 53,
57, 58; see also Turner 1991: 50–51).
Weber believed that human actions stemmed from a variety of
sources and aimed at a number of sometimes conflicting goals.
As observers attempting to understand the origins and goals of
human action, we are often at a loss to identify a single factor, but
that is not because we are too lazy or not committed enough to
do so.17 Instead, because of the complexity, we are simply unable
to determine such intentions and desires, and Weber suggested
that it is not just the observers who cannot know, but often the
actor himself is not certain to what extent ideas and interests
motivate his (or her) actions. Weber makes much of the routine
of everyday life and how customs and habits determine much of
our activity. Most people are unaware of how much these cul-
tural and personal forces direct our lives; even those people who
are rather self-reflective and self-conscious are often blind to
what actually motivates them. This is true about interests and
it is even true about great ideas. Often ideas appear “great” in
hindsight, to the actor at the time the ideas may be important
but they do not seem historically transformative.
 FROM ROMAN AGRARIANISM TO SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION 21

The idea or, more accurately, ideas that impacted interests

were Luther’s notion of “Beruf” and Calvin’s doctrine of pre-
destination.18 I examine these two ideas later; what is impor-
tant here is to consider the ways in which Weber believed that
ideas and interests were interrelated. The passage quoted above
is not easy to understand but it seems that Weber believed that
interests influenced ideas and that ideas also helped determine
interests. It also seems that Weber places most of the empha-
sis on interests—that is why he suggests that material and ideal
interests determine action.19 However, Weber is emphatic that
ideas also help in the formation of the larger picture and are able
to determine the course of history. The Protestant Ethic was a
case study in which Weber showed how two ideas helped change
history. It is the story of the “ideas” of “Beruf” and “predestina-
tion” that helped to give rise to modern capitalism.
The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism comprises
two parts. Part One is the shorter of the two and was published
in 1904. Part Two is quite a bit longer and appeared in 1905,
thus, after Weber’s three-month long trip to the United States
(See Weber 2014: ix). This trip was important to Weber’s thesis
because he was able to see firsthand confirmation of some of his
ideas. The subtitle of Part One is “Das Problem” and it is slightly
misleading. While Weber does indeed set out the “problem,” he
does so in the first and second subsections; in the third, he has
already moved to an explanation for the problem.
Weber introduces the “problem” by drawing attention to the
economic discrepancy between Confessions: that Protestants
tend to be financially better off than Catholics. He mentions his
own research between the German Protestants and the Catholic
Poles in West Prussia, but he draws primarily upon the rather
complete statistical analysis that had been just provided by his
former student, Martin Offenbacher. Weber shows that sev-
eral factors that might seem to explain this are, in fact, wrong.
Although Protestants had long believed that Catholic author-
ity was too repressive, it was really too permissive for the early
Reformers (Weber 1996: 3). Furthermore, the popular belief
22 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

that the Protestants wanted to “eat well” was incorrect as well

as the claim that the Catholics preferred to “sleep well.” In addi-
tion, the assumption that Catholics lived lives that were “world
alien” (“Weltfremd”) was also incorrect. Rather, Catholics also
lived materially well-off lives and many of the Reformers lived
an ascetically pure life (Weber 1996: 6–7). Weber counseled that
his answer to this problem is provisional and he warned that
his readers should not expect a historically accurate account.
Instead, his account was intended to give a sense of a possible
answer and that it could be found only at the conclusion of his
investigation. This helps explain why Weber immediately moves
to invoke Benjamin Franklin and his admonishments regarding
time, honesty, and money—because they are designed to give the
specific sense of what would become the “spirit” of modern cap-
italism (Weber 1996: 12–14). Sombart was wrong to look for the
origins of capitalism in wealthy individuals like Jakob Fugger
who immensely enjoyed their riches and wanted even more;
instead, one needed to look at the systematic self-control that
was practiced by the Calvinists and their offspring like Franklin
(Weber 1996: 16–19, 23). It was not the historical indulging in
wealth but the rational self-control that broke the power of tradi-
tion. It was the specific “spirit” of Calvinism that paved the way
for the development of the “spirit” of modern capitalism.20
Weber examined two main traits of the early Protestants that
he believed helped provide the impetus for developing the “spirit”
that led to modern capitalism. The first one was Luther’s notion
of “Beruf.” Weber spends the last section of Part One showing
how Luther changed and expanded this notion. Previously, the
Roman Catholic Church had restricted the use of “Beruf” to the
clerical vocations. Luther broke with this tradition and argued
that it applied not just to the members of the Church hierarchy,
but to all human beings. Luther contended that God had called
every human being to work.21 Weber acknowledged that Luther
was radical in this particular respect. However, in his opinion
Luther not only remained tradition bound, but became even
more traditional (Weber 2014: 201). The next step toward the
 FROM ROMAN AGRARIANISM TO SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION 23

development of the “spirit” of capitalism came with the far more

radical Calvin.22
If Luther wished to continue to live a rather traditional life,
Calvin believed that his life and his followers must be radically
different. Weber points to Calvin’s theology as the basis for this
difference and specifically to his Doctrine of Predestination.
Briefly, Calvin promoted a doctrine of “double election” in
which the vast majority is destined to Hell while a few have been
selected to enter Heaven. There had been doctrines similar to
Calvin’s, but none with the foreboding that Calvin’s entailed.
That was because he concluded that God had not only foreor-
dained this division but that humans were completely powerless
to change the outcome. This is the point of the rather famous
passage in the Protestant Ethic in which Weber points to the
hopelessness of the Calvinist:

No one could help him. No preacher:—for only the Chosen can

spiritually comprehend God’s word. No sacrament:—for the
sacraments are indeed ordained for the greater glory of God
and therefore . . . to keep, but no means to certify God’s grace,
but rather are subjectively only an ‘external part’ of faith. No
church:—for it is indeed valid for the principle ‘outside of the
church no salvation’ . . . [because even the reprobate belong to the
external church]. Finally, no God:—because Christ died only for
the chosen.
Niemand konnte ihm helfen. Kein Prediger:—denn nur
der Erwä hlte kann Gotteswort spiritualiter verstehen. Kein
Sakrament:—denn die Sakramente sind zwar von Gott zur
Mehrung seines Ruhms verordnet und desshalb unver-
brüchlich zu halten, aber kein Mittel, Gottes Gnade zu Erlangen,
sondern subjectiv nur ‘externa subsidia’ des Glaubens. Keine
Kirche: . . . Endlich auch:—kein Gott: denn auch Christus ist nur
f ür die Erwä hlten gestorben. (Weber 2014: 259–260)

Unlike the benevolent God of Luther’s New Testament, Calvin’s

Deity is more like the Old Testament’s Jehovah. He is angry, dis-
tant, unknowable, and unappeasable. God has chosen who is
24 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

among the elect and who is among the damned and God made
the decisions at the beginning and they will stand for all time.
For anyone to think that man could have any influence on God
is impudence. God’s decision was and is his alone and to com-
plain about it is as futile as an animal complaining that it was
not born a human being (Weber 2014: 257–258). This means
that the individual is isolated, pessimistic, and uncertain—there
is no fellowship, no hope, and no certain indication that one is
chosen. As a result, people seek signs that may point to being
among the chosen, and one such sign is the wealth that they
gain through diligence and hard work. In contrast with so many
others who enjoy their wealth and the status that it gives them,
the Calvinist does not. The accumulation of wealth is not to be
enjoyed; rather, it is simply a possible signal that one is indeed
among the chosen, and that it is used solely for the greater glory
for God (Weber 2014: 280–283). This led to what Weber referred
to as “inner-worldly asceticism.” Asceticism was practiced by
Christians throughout history but the early ascetics and the
Catholic monks who practiced it “fled” from the world. They
denied the world’s importance and dedicated their lives to God;
the “inner-worldly ascetics” remained in the world and they
were “methodical” in the practices and firm in their self-control
(Weber 2014: 288–296, 302, 336–338, 365). Weber devoted the
remainder of the Protestant Ethic to the unfolding of the ascetic
self-control in the Protestant denominations of the Pietists, the
Baptists, the Mennonites, and the Quakers. He concluded his
study by pointing out that the theological foundations for work
were replaced by moral considerations, and these were then dis-
solved so that all that remained was the sober impetus to work
and accumulate capital (Weber 2014: 420–424).
The final paragraphs of the Protestant Ethics contain some
of Weber’s most memorable lines. These include “The Puritan
wanted to be a man of vocation,—we must be it” (“Der Puritaner
wollte Berufsmensch sein,—wir müssen es sein”) and the com-
ment about now having to live in an “iron cage” (“stahlhar-
tes Gehäuse”). But, the one that seems to express Weber’s
 FROM ROMAN AGRARIANISM TO SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION 25

pessimistic attitude toward the future is “Specialists without

spirit, connoisseurs without heart, these nothings imagine that
they are the first to have reached the highest step of human-
ity.” (“Fachmenschen ohne Geist, Genüßmenschen ohne Hertz,
diese Nichts bildet sich ein, eine nie vorher erreichte Stufe des
Menschentums ersteigen zu haben.”) (Weber 2014: 422–423).
This passage has direct echoes of Nietzsche’s “last men” from
Also Sprach Zarathustra. Nietzsche’s “last men” and Weber’s
“specialists” are both “nothings”—“nobodies” who have reduced
everything to the lowest common denominator and now actu-
ally believe that they have found “happiness.” Both “nothings”
are delusional; Nietzsche ridiculed their belief that they found
happiness and Weber mocked their claim that their lives were
meaningful. Weber may not have been religious, but he was
keenly aware of the universal human need to find meaning in
one’s life. “A life without meaning is not worth living” could be
Weber’s rephrasing of the Socratic claim that the unexamined
life is not worth living. Leaving aside Nietzsche’s insistence that
“God is dead,” Weber may have been suggesting that when reli-
gion no longer imparts meaning and value to our lives, we need
to find it ourselves.
Weber continued to focus on developing his sociology of reli-
gion in two forms: the work that became known as Wirtschaft und
Gesellschaft and the collection of essays that formed the volumes
titled Gesammelte Aufsätze zur Religionssoziologie. Wirtschaft und
Gesellschaft has a rather difficult and complex history (Swedberg
2005: 78). Recently, Wolfgang Schluchter has done a remarkable
job in explaining it in his Entstehungsgeschichte, which is in vol-
ume 23 of the Max Weber Gesamtausgabe. Schluchter began
by explaining how Weber finally agreed to the publisher Paul
Siebeck’s continuous pleading to take over as the editor of the
Handbuch der Politischen Ökonomie; and Schluchter discussed
the complex history of how and why the title of this series was
changed to the Grundriß der Sozialökonomik. He also placed
Weber’s own contribution (Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft) within
this series and he debunked the claim put forth by Marianne
26 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

Weber that Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft was composed of two

parts. He proved that both were neither fully completed by her
husband nor that the manuscripts were practically finished at the
time of Max’s premature death. Schluchter then took issue with
the editorial changes put forth by Johannes Winckelmann in the
third, fourth, and fifth editions of Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft.
Schluchter argued that like Marianne, Winckelmann oper-
ated with the best of intentions but that his changes, addi-
tions, and rearrangements of the work ended up significantly
distorting Weber’s intentions for Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft.
Schluchter concludes his account by suggesting that the edi-
tion being produced in the Max Weber Gesamtausgabe better
adheres to Weber’s original work by dividing it into two major
parts (Schluchter 2009a: 1–25, 93–109). The first part is that the
portion that Weber himself saw in page proofs, is contained in
one volume, and is given the subtitle Soziologie. The second part
containing the larger portion of Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft, is
contained in five volumes, each with its own subtitle. Part One is
actually the latest part of Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft and is now
published as Band 23 of the Max Weber Gesamtausgabe whereas
the earlier portions are found in Band 22–1, 22–2, 22–3, 22–4,
and 22–5 of the Gesamtausgabe. The volumes that are impor-
tant for my analysis of Weber’s sociology of religion are 22–2
(Religiöse Gemeinschaften) and 22–4 (Herrschaften). Band 22–2
contains the sections on religious communities; Band 22–4 con-
tains the sections and writings on domination.
Wolfgang Schluchter recounts the history of the Grundriß der
Sozialökonomik and shows how Weber’s vision of it underwent
considerable changes. Schluchter divides the history into four
sections: (1) its early history, thus to 1910, (2) Weber’s reconsti-
tuting it, thus to 1912, (3) the realization that Karl Bücher’s arti-
cle was much shorter and much worse than expected and that
Weber needed to rethink his contribution, thus during 1913,
and (4) the beginning of the publishing of the Grundriß, thus,
from 1914 until Weber’s death in 1920 (Schluchter 2009a: 82).
Schluchter points to 1913 as a decisive turning point for Weber
 FROM ROMAN AGRARIANISM TO SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION 27

but, as he sets it out, it is really 1914 that is the real turning point
for Weber’s overall project. Bücher was not the sole problem;
there were other contributors who caused difficulties. Friedrich
von Wieser was already one-and-a-half years behind in his con-
tribution, and Weber estimated that even when he received it, it
would still take another almost half a year of correspondence,
changes, and corrections to get it ready for publication. Even
Friedrich Gottl’s contribution was problematic—while Weber
regarded it as very good, it was way too long and needed to be
radically shortened (Schluchter 2009a: 72–73). But, Schluchter is
absolutely right about the year 1913 in regards to Weber’s think-
ing about religion, because it is that year that Weber realized
that he would be taking on more than he had anticipated, and
that was especially true regarding religion. That is why Weber’s
letter of December 31, 1913 to Paul Siebeck is so crucial; in it
Weber complains that Bücher’s “developmental steps” approach
is unworkable and that Weber needs to rethink the approach to
all forms of community and their relation to economics. This
also meant that he would have to take up the economic rela-
tions of all of the great religions; similar to what Troeltsch had
done for Christianity in his Soziallehren der christlichen Kirchen
und Gruppen.23 Schluchter recognizes the importance of 1913
for Weber’s work on religion, suggesting that “one could really
name the year 1913 the year of religion.”24 Schluchter is cor-
rect, but it might be better to note that 1913 was the first year of
religion because it was the year that Weber began to recognize
even more the important connections between religious ethics
and economics.25 Weber was to devote considerable efforts over
the next seven years to developing his specific sociology of reli-
gion.26 Before examining those efforts, I will return to Wirtschaft
und Gesellschaft to discuss the relevant sections that Weber had
devoted to the sociology of religion.
Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft has now appeared in its entirety in
the Max Weber Gesamtausgabe. Weber’s investigations into reli-
gious life can be found in almost every volume, but the volume
titled Religiöse Gemeinschaften contains much that is relevant to
28 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

his sociology of religion. It is also temporally situated between

the earlier Protestant Ethics and the later writings on the world
religions. It is, as the editors of Religiöse Gemeinschaften volume
note, a “key text,” but they also warn that it is incomplete (“Ein
unfertiger Schlüsseltext”) (Weber 2001: 1). It is important because
it contains the concepts that are fundamental to Weber’s sociol-
ogy of religion: concepts such as “salvation,” “charisma,” “mys-
ticism,” “asceticism,” “theodicy,” and “pariah-people.” While
these concepts are found in the economic ethics of the world
religions, they are given conceptual prominence here. This vol-
ume is also important because it is in it where Weber traced how
religion was transformed from a belief in magic into something
“doctrinal” (Weber 2001: 18). This is the process of rationaliza-
tion, a process that Weber referred to as “Entzauberung,” or as
it is known in English, a process of “disenchantment.” It was a
process that the ancient Jews helped promote and it continued
until relatively recently. The process of disenchantment is fun-
damental to Weber’s overall thinking, but it does not need to be
addressed here because there are a number of works that discuss
it in great detail.27 The point here is that religion is one of the
means by which human beings try to make sense of the world
and it is one of the most powerful means by which humans try
to appease or even direct otherworldly powers (Weber 2001: 121,
130). Weber was not a theologian and he was not interested in
religion for religion’s sake; rather, he was always concerned with
the intersection between ideas and interests. It is in this light
that the Protestant Ethic was the first in the series that makes up
Weber’s writings on the sociology of religion; otherwise known
as “economic ethics of the world religions.”
What did Weber mean by the “economic ethics of the world reli-
gions”? The second part of this phrase is relatively easy to answer.
By “world religions” Weber meant the major “religiously condi-
tioned systems of regulating life” (“religiös bedingten Systeme
der Lebensreglementierung”) that were found in the world.28 He
considered that there were five of these and he identified them: (1)
Confucianism, (2) Hinduism, (3) Buddhism, (4) Christianity, and
 FROM ROMAN AGRARIANISM TO SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION 29

(5) Islam (Weber 1989: 83). He then added a sixth and that was
Judaism. Weber wrote on Confucianism (and Taoism) and it was
first published in 1915 in the Archiv für Sozialwissenschaft und
Sozialpolitik. It was then published in reworked form in the first
volume of Weber’s Gesammelte Schriften zur Religionssoziologie.
Weber’s studies on Hinduism and Buddhism appeared in 1916
and 1917, and then were reworked for the second volume of the
Religionssoziologie. Weber’s writings on ancient Judaism appeared
between 1917 and 1920 and were then revised for publication in
the third volume. The fourth volume never materialized. It is
unfortunate that we do not have a complete or final account of
Weber’s thinking on the economic ethic of the world’s religions,
but what we do possess is sufficient to provide us with a good
understanding of what Weber believed was important about this
topic. Not being a specialist on any world religions, I am not in a
position to evaluate Weber’s assessments of them. But, that is not
my task; my task here is to explain what Weber meant by some of
his most fundamental concepts in his sociology of religion. How
he came to discover them and how he employed them is the focus
of the next chapter.
What Weber meant by “world religions” was relatively easy
to ascertain; what he meant by “economic ethic” is much harder
to determine. This is mostly because he never provided a defi-
nition. Swedberg wrote that “No formal definition [of economic
ethic] can be found in Weber’s works” but he suggests that in
the opening pages of the “Einleitung” to the Wirtschaftsethik
der Weltreligionen he comes closest to offering one (Swedberg
2005: 68). There Weber insisted that he was not providing an
ethical theory of theologies. Rather, he intended to discuss the
“psychological and pragmatic relations of the religions insofar as
they serve as the basis for the practical drive to trade” (“psychol-
ogische und pragmatische Zusammenhängen der Religionen
gegründeten praktischen Antriebe zum Handeln” (Weber 1989:
85). Perhaps the clearest example that Weber gives is in the
Protestant Ethic, where the radical ascetic conduct of life pushes
one to work continuously. While the ethics of sober effort give
30 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

rise to wealth, this wealth is then used for the accumulation of

more wealth and not for one’s own benefit. Weber gave several
cautions about “economic ethic.” First, he insisted that “eco-
nomic ethics” do not determine economic actions by themselves
and that economic actions also help influence the economic eth-
ics. Second, he insists that economic ethics are not the sole deter-
minant; rather, geographical and historical factors are among
those that also affect economic decisions (Weber 1989: 85).
To conclude this chapter with a few words about Weber’s
personal approach to religion, as Johannes Weiß pointed out
decades ago, many people believe that in order to understand
Weber’s sociology of religion, they need to know about Weber’s
own religious beliefs (Weiß 1975: 103–104). Many people point
to Weber’s 1909 letter to Tönnies, the one in which he admits to
being “unmusical,” as an indication that he was anti-religious, or
at least indifferent to religion. However, the context of this com-
ment belies this assumption. Weber wrote:

For I am indeed absolutely “unmusical” and have neither the

desire nor the capacity to erect some such spiritual “edifice” of a
religious type in me—that simply is not possible, indeed I reject
it. But, upon closer examination, I am neither antireligious nor
irreligious.
Denn ich bin zwar absolute “unmusikalisch” und habe weder
Bedürfnis noch Fä higkeit irgendwelche seelichen “Bauwerk”
religiösen Charakters in mir zu errichten—das geht einfach
nicht, resp. ich lehne es ab. Aber ich bin, nach genauer Prüfung,
weder antireligiös noch irreligiös. (Weber 1994: 65)

Several weeks later Weber responded to Tönnies’s reply and clar-

ified that one need not be religiously inclined in order to under-
stand religious phenomena. He referred to the lively debate
between those scholars of religion who were fervent believ-
ers and those who were irreligious and he pointed out that he
believed that one could be a very good scholar of religion without
being a believer. He pointed expressly to his recently deceased
 FROM ROMAN AGRARIANISM TO SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION 31

Heidelberg colleague Albrecht Dieterich as someone who was

widely respected as a leading authority on religion but who
was completely irreligious (Weber 1994: 70). Whether Weber
was religious to any degree is not relevant—Weber believed the
task of the scholar of religion is to understand religion, and that
personal beliefs were neither important nor relevant.29
As I have shown in this chapter, Weber was completely con-
vinced about the crucial importance of religious ethics and their
various relations to economics. In the next chapter, what I will
demonstrate is how Weber approached questions of methodol-
ogy and how he determined which conceptual tools he would
employ in developing his sociology of religion.
 3

Conceptual Influences and

Developments

I n 1902, as Weber was recovering from his breakdown, he

wrote to his wife, “I have finished Rickert. He is very good,
to a large part I find in that what I have thought, if not in such
logically worked out form. Regarding the terminology I have
concerns.”1 Many commentators have seized upon this remark
as firm evidence that Weber borrowed his methodology straight
from his close friend and colleague Heinrich Rickert. These
commentators include Alexander von Schelting, Dieter Henrich,
H. H. Bruun, Thomas Burger, and Guy Oakes.2 After Weber’s
death, Rickert himself promoted the notion that Weber bor-
rowed his methodology.3 While there is something positive to
be said about Rickert’s influence on Weber, there are a num-
ber of other things that need to be taken into consideration.4
First, Rickert did not devise his methodology by himself, but
relied heavily on the important work already done by his men-
tor, Wilhelm Windelband. Rickert himself notes how he firmly
belongs to the Southwest School of Neo-Kantianism. Second, one
look at the so-called Narvi Fragment will reveal Weber’s major
doubts about Rickert’s philosophy, with serious questions about
values and major complaints about metaphysics (Weber 2012b:
413–414). Third, a few scholars have concluded that Weber drew
inspiration for his methodological innovations from think-
ers other than Rickert—and different scholars have suggested
34 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

Eduard Meyer, Emil Lask, or Georg Jellinek. The focus of the

first half of this chapter is the influence of these scholars on
Weber’s methodological thinking, while the goal of the second
half is to outline how Weber developed his own methodological
tools and, specifically, his invention of the ideal type.5

Neo-Kantian and Legal Influences

In the second half of the nineteenth century, there developed a

new philosophical movement referred to as Neo-Kantianism.6 It
traced its origins to Kant because its members shared his meth-
odological concern with determining the sources and limits of
knowledge. Kant had argued that the certainty of geometry was
guaranteed by the nature of our pure perceptions of time and
space, and that natural science was fundamentally sound because
of our pure concepts of understanding; for example, causality.
Like Kant, the Neo-Kantians focused on the subjective origins of
knowledge and stressed the mind’s role in that process of selec-
tion. The phrase “Back to Kant” was an acknowledgment of the
debts that the Neo-Kantians believed they owed their master.
However, they also sought “to go beyond Kant,” that is, to extend
the range of science. The phrase “to go beyond Kant” was coined
by Wilhelm Windelband, who was himself the student of Kuno
Fischer, the main originator of the Southwest School of Neo-
Kantianism. Kuno Fischer was not only the scholar who created
renewed interest in Kant’s theory of knowledge, but also a spe-
cialist in the history of philosophy, and in literature (Hoffmann
1924: 24). Windelband shared all of these interests with Kuno
Fischer, but there was one area where his interests diverged from
those of Fischer. Like Kant, Kuno Fischer concentrated on the
types of knowledge that were general and lawlike—that is, the
conditions that make the natural sciences possible. In contrast,
Windelband investigated the conditions that could make possi-
ble a science of individuals.
In his 1873 “Habilitationsschrift,” Windelband followed
Kant quite explicitly; he believed in the subjective origins of
 CONCEPTUAL INFLUENCES AND DEVELOPMENTS 35

certainty and that space, time, and causality were the univer-
sal and fundamental functions of the mind (Windelband 1873:
31, 51, 64, 79). Like Kant, Windelband believed that “certainty”
(“Gewissheit”) was found in the natural sciences. Unlike Kant,
Windelband began to realize that there could be a type of science
for the so-called cultural sciences (“Geisteswissenschaften”)
in general, and history in particular. He formulated this in his
1894 “Rektorsrede” titled “Geschichte und Naturwissenschaft.”
There he drew the methodological distinction between “nomo-
thetic” (“nomothetisch”) science and “ideographic” (“idiogra-
phisch”) science, that is, those sciences that deal with “nature”
(“Natur”) and those that deal with “spirit” (“Geist”) (Windelband
1894: 142, 144–145). The first are those sciences that are pat-
terned after mathematics—with its formal laws. These universal
laws are determined inductively and concern bodies and their
properties as well as their movements (Windelband 1894: 141,
143–144). In contrast, there is the second group of sciences—
the “Geisteswissenschaften”—that are devoted to the “single
occurring” individual or occurrence. Windelband distinguishes
between the natural sciences that seek the universal law and the
“Geisteswissenschaften” that seek specific historical facts. Or,
as he also states, the former develop “general, apodictic judg-
ment” (“general, apodiktische Urteil”) while the latter develop
“singular, assertorical principle” (“singular, assertorische Satz”)
(Windelband 1894: 144). Nomothetic sciences seek “laws”
(“Gesetze”); idiographic sciences seek “forms” (“Gestalten”)
(Windelband 1894: 149). The former use a process of abstraction
to determine the universal; the latter inquire about the individ-
ual in order to discover a pattern (Windelband 1894: 150–151,
153). Unlike the mere facts of the natural sciences, the facts of
the “Geisteswissenschaften” have a particular “value” (“Wert”),
that is, we can learn from the historical significance of the “sin-
gular and singular-occurring” (Windelband 1894: 155). Both
sciences employ the notion of causality, but in different ways.
The nomothetic sciences use it in the necessary and univer-
sal sense while the idiographic sciences use it in the tentative
36 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

and particular sense. History is not determined, but it can be

explained (Windelband 1894: 157, 160).
Heinrich Rickert was always concerned with the problem of
concept formation; this preoccupation was found in his 1888
dissertation and then in his Der Gegenstand der Erkenntnis, but
it is found in its fullest form in his Die Grenzen der naturwissen-
schaftlichen Begriffsbildung. Rickert published this work in two
parts; the first part, in which he focused on the process of form-
ing concepts in the natural sciences, appeared in 1898, while the
entire work was published in 1902. As the title indicates, Rickert
devoted considerable effort to how the physical sciences form
concepts. The physical world is manifested in countless ways, so
the conceptual method of the natural sciences is to reduce this
manifold by introducing universal concepts. That is, to min-
imize the infinity of the world by describing it with a general
concept (Rickert 1902: 32–41, 60–61). By a process of abstrac-
tion, the natural scientist arrives at the most general sense; and
because it is universal, it is the most “empty” of concepts. It is the
logical “essence” (Rickert 1902: 93, 123).
In the second half of Die Grenzen, Rickert addresses his pri-
mary task—to show how there can be concept formation in the
historical sciences. Rickert points to the problems that arise
with the belief that scientific knowledge is a copy of the real
world. This approach may seem to work for the natural sci-
ences, but it does not for historical knowledge (Rickert 1902:
249–250, 658). Instead, the historical sciences need to deter-
mine what is historically valuable and what is historically irrel-
evant. He gives the example of Friedrich the Fourth. What is
relevant is the “historical” fact that he refused to accept the
German crown; what is not is the “historical” fact regarding
which tailor made his clothes (Rickert 1902: 325–326). The
historian must select from this historical manifold and so,
needs to determine which “historical” facts are important and
which can be set aside. The historian does so by estimating the
“value” of the fact to history (Rickert 1902: 364). Rickert points
to the importance of teleology. He grants that contemporary
 CONCEPTUAL INFLUENCES AND DEVELOPMENTS 37

science tends to reject teleology as important or even relevant,

but he believes that it is both relevant and important for under-
standing history (Rickert 1902: 372). This is because the histor-
ical sciences seek to explain what happened by means of cause
and effect, but not in the manner that the natural sciences uti-
lize causality to explain physical phenomena (Rickert 1902:
410–429). The biggest difference lay in the fact that the natural
sciences use causality to explain “finished or resting objects”
(“fertigen oder ruhenden Objekten”) while the historical sci-
ences are engaged with constantly evolving individuals. Thus,
history is concerned with developmental processes (Rickert
1902: 436–438). Rickert grants that sciences are also often con-
cerned with processes, and he specifically identifies biology as
one of them. However, the physical sciences are focused on the
process of the species; the historical sciences are focused on
the individual (Rickert 1902: 460–461). Here is where the tel-
eological approach helps in developing historical knowledge:
by thinking about “historical progress” and “logical ideals”
(Rickert 1902: 462–474, 532–533). Again, for Rickert the main
key for historical knowledge is the “value” of the historical
facts—those that contribute to our understanding of historical
progress and logically lead to historical ideals (Rickert 1902:
559, 574–575). And this is where the notion of “culture” comes
into play for Rickert; historically relevant facts are “valuable” if
they are “cultural values” (Rickert 1902: 578–580, 702).
In his recent biography of Max Weber, Jürgen Kaube dis-
cusses Weber’s return to work after his lengthy recuperation and
he takes up the question of why Weber’s “new beginning” writ-
ings were so abstract and complicated. Kaube insists that prior
to his collapse, Weber was hardly interested in methodological
issues, and so he seeks the scholar who provoked this new inter-
est. He maintains that it was not Rickert who prompted Weber
to begin to investigate methodological questions, but rather, the
historian Eduard Meyer. Kaube suggests that the decisive sug-
gestion comes from Weber’s discussion regarding Meyer’s “Zur
Theorie und Methodik der Geschichte.” Kaube does not claim
38 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

originality for this thesis, but acknowledges that he relies on

Friedrich Tenbruck’s writings.7
Eduard Meyer first published “Zur Theorie und Methodik der
Geschichte” in 1902, but he revised it slightly for inclusion in his
Kleine Schriften that was published in 1910. Accordingly, Meyer
makes use of some recent works, like Rickert’s Die Grenzen. Like
Rickert, Meyer begins with the Neo-Kantian claim that the nat-
ural sciences are dominated by the idea of law-like and that they
seek to uncover the necessary chain of cause and effect (Meyer
1910: 7). Historical knowledge is different and he approvingly
cites Rickert’s Die Grenzen. Like Rickert (and Windelband),
Meyer stresses the notion of “accident” (“contingency”); unlike
Rickert, Meyer emphasizes free will (Meyer 1910: 16, 23–25). For
Meyer, history contains no laws and it can offer no predictions
(Meyer 1910: 32–35). What history can do is to develop “gen-
eralities,” like nationalities (Meyer 1910: 37–39). History should
avoid ascribing motives but should seek facts and that means
witnesses (Meyer 1910: 42–43). Meyer concludes by maintaining
that the only historical method was invented by Thucydides, and
that has not been superseded (Meyer 1910: 67).
Friedrich Tenbruck acknowledged that Weber never thought
of himself as a historian, but he suggests that he became very
interested in theories of history, in large measure, because of
Eduard Meyer. Tenbruck claims that it was Meyer who helped
wake Max Weber from his “dogmatic slumber” and prompted
him to consider the relationship between theory and history.8
Weber was famous for criticizing his contemporaries and the
person he singled out for his most severe polemics was the
legal scholar Rudolf Stammler. In contrast, Weber had an espe-
cially high regard for Meyer; especially his multivolume work
on ancient history (Tenbruck 1999: 189–192). It is with these
thoughts in mind that we turn to Weber’s critique of certain
parts of Meyer’s historical methodology.
Weber begins by insisting that his focus on a few deficiencies
in Meyer’s writing does not diminish the work’s importance.
In a footnote, Weber adds, “The mistakes that a superior writer
 CONCEPTUAL INFLUENCES AND DEVELOPMENTS 39

makes are more instructive than the correct notes of a scien-

tific nothing.”9 Weber focuses on Meyer’s concepts of “accident”
and free will, because it is not clear what Meyer really means by
either concept (Weber 1922b: 218–221, 227–229). Nor, is Meyer
clear by what he means either by causal connections or by eth-
ical responsibility (Weber 1922b: 223, 226). However, he notes
that in Meyer’s approach, there is no contradiction between the
notion of free will and the notion of the axiomatic; just as the
fundamental principles of logic (like the principle of sufficient
reason) also apply to human activities (Weber 1922b: 221, 238;
Meyer 1910: 19). What is also unclear is Meyer’s notion of sub-
traction and how that leads to the “historical ‘essential’” (“his-
torische ‘Wesentliche’”) and the “correct core” (“richtiger Kern”)
(Weber 1922b: 232). What troubled Weber the most were Meyer’s
notions of “historical value” and “historical ‘significance”’ (“his-
torische ‘Bedeutung’”) (Weber 1922b: 245, 254, 262). Weber
acknowledges that as a trained historian, Meyer is able to “phil-
ologically observe the past,” but he insists that Meyer has yet to
explain what that process is. Weber appears to ask How can one
legitimately select what is relevant from an entire “cultural life”?
(Weber 1922b: 247–251). Furthermore, how does Meyer’s “causal
explanation” in history relate to the “causal explanation” in the
natural sciences? (Weber 1922b: 257). Weber has only method-
ological criticisms and questions in his “Auseinandersetzung”
with Eduard Meyer; he will formulate his own methodology
elsewhere. When he does, it will not so much be related to either
philosophy or history, but instead, to legal theory.
In Max Weber: The Lawyer as Social Thinker, Stephen Turner
and Regis Factor reminded scholars that Weber was trained
as a lawyer, frequently relied on juridical notions of causality,
and often considered methodological problems through a legal
framework. They emphasized that Weber “thought of social sci-
ence as a lawyer” and not as a philosopher (Turner and Factor
1994: 166, 136). They also point to the mutual influence that
Emil Lask and Weber had on each other. Lask was a student of
Rickert and thus was trained as a Neo-Kantian philosopher.10
40 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

However, he shared Weber’s interest in law and his entry in the

“Festschrift” for Kuno Fischer was on legal philosophy. Turner
and Factor highlight this work because it shows Lask’s attempt
to find the appropriate methodology for the philosophy of law.
Lask’s work is divided into two sections. In the first, Lask
discusses the philosophy of law (“Rechtsphilosophie”); in
the second, he discusses the methodology of a science of law
(“Rechtswissenschaft”). He began by distinguishing between
what he called the “philosophical” method and the “historical”
one; the former deals with universal and abstract notions whereas
the latter focuses on the particular and concrete individual (Lask
1905: 2–3). The first problem appears to be that the “philosoph-
ical” method seeks the absolute and unconditional while the
“historical” seems content with the relative and conditional. The
second difficulty seems to be that while law has a “philosophy”
and has a “history,” legal methodology is neither “philosophical”
nor “historical” (Lask 1905: 7). Lask further notes that contem-
porary legal philosophy rejects the old metaphysical foundations
of law and begins from the Neo-Kantian standpoint of knowl-
edge—thus, the preoccupation with concept formation. Not only
did Rickert confront the problem of abstractness, but Ferdinand
Tönnies and Georg Simmel, did so, too. Lask had a high regard
for both thinkers but he was convinced that their methodology
was wrong. Tönnies wrongly emphasized the teleological aspect
of law while Simmel was incorrect in stressing the formal and
abstract approach. Tönnies and Simmel regarded this abstrac-
tion to be more than a mere conceptual problem; it was a symp-
tom of the modern world. For Tönnies, this was something to be
combated and rejected, but for Simmel, it was something to be
accepted and explained (Lask 1905: 22, 26).
In the second section Lask writes that legal science is not some
abstract theory, but is instead part of the empirical “cultural sci-
ences” (“Kulturwissenschaften”) (Lask 1905: 27). By denoting it
as such, Lask is following Rickert; this is further underscored
when he refers to Rickert’s efforts for “conceptual sharpness
and scholarly rigor.”11 This is one of Lask’s four references to
 CONCEPTUAL INFLUENCES AND DEVELOPMENTS 41

Rickert, and he refers to three of Rickert’s books. This would

appear to indicate that Rickert is Lask’s primary expert, but this
is not quite accurate. Lask’s main expert is not a philosopher, but
a legal theorist—Georg Jellinek. Lask refers to five of the writ-
ings Jellinek and he cites him seven times. Lask insists that any
further progress in developing a legal methodology presupposes
adhering to the distinction that Jellinek made between law and
social theory (Lask 1905: 31–34). This is because of the distinc-
tion between facts and norms; between “being” (“Sein”) and
“should” (“Sollen”). Lask maintains that a legal methodology has
two main themes: the first is the development of pre-legal mate-
rials dealing with the culture and the second is the development
of the system of law (Lask 1905: 35).
Lask acknowledges that his account seems to be solely about
“objective” law but he notes that there is a division between “liv-
ing reality” (“lebendiger Wirklichkeit”) and “legal significance”
(“rechtlicher Bedeutung”) (Lask 1905: 39, 44). Accordingly, he
emphasizes the subjective will. Lask’s sentences are among the
most opaque of his difficult essay but he seems to be saying that
when the individual wills something it is not necessarily simply a
psychological process. Instead, it appears that the subjective will
is expressing its desire for something that he or she regards as
good. However, by doing so Lask admits that this helps to lead to
the confusion between ethics and the law. This confusion is fur-
thered by the teleological character of law—that we “will” some-
thing to happen, that is, we want to achieve a specific goal (Lask
1905: 40–42). Lask’s larger point is more methodological—the
law does not speak about either a “single” person or a “whole per-
sonality” who wills but, rather, a “ juridical person”—and, that
the “juridical construction” is based upon several processes—
deduction, reduction, induction, and classification (Lask 1905:
46–47). What Lask has done is to note that legal philosophy can
neither be metaphysical nor can it be solely positivistic. Instead,
it is different and it requires a different methodology. Lask con-
cludes by acknowledging that his “lines” do not provide a full
methodology, but he contends that there is enough contained in
42 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

them to suggest the way forward to developing such a methodol-

ogy. What he has also done is to show how important Jellinek’s
legal theory is in constructing one.
We know that Weber thought highly of Jellinek and his legal
writings, both from his letters to Jellinek and from the mov-
ing tribute that he gave at his friend’s funeral.12 Andreas Anter
has often commented on the close relationship that Weber and
Jellinek had and he pointed to their related efforts to develop
concepts. For both Weber and Jellinek, one of the most opaque
concepts was the notion of the state (Jellinek 1967: 6; Anter 1996:
19; Anter 2004: 7; Anter 2007: 14–15). Stefan Breuer is one scholar
who has pointed to the obvious similarities between Weber
and Jellinek, and like most of the others he looks primarily to
Jellinek’s major work Allgemeine Staatslehre for instances of this
overlap (Breuer 2004: 89–90). Breuer is right, as are the others,
but before examining those similarities, it is important to note a
much smaller and less classical work of Jellinek’s that had a far-
reaching impact on Weber’s thinking about laws and especially
about constitutions. That work is Verfassungsänderung und
Verfassungswandlung, which Jellinek published in 1906; thus,
six years after the first edition of Allgemeine Staatslehre and
only one year after the second edition. It is important because
Jellinek takes issue with the traditional view of basic laws and
constitutions—the view that they have legitimacy because they
appear to be eternal and immutable. While regular laws have a
sense of permanency, they are subject to occasional review and
change. Jellinek describes the legal theory that maintains that
the sovereign state has an “unlimited power of the will” (“unbe-
grentze Willensmacht”). As a result, the constitution cannot be
altered or changed; it can only be overthrown by revolution.13
Jellinek’s major example is the French Revolution (Jellinek 1906:
3, 6). Jellinek cites the United States as the example of a con-
stitution’s permanence, and that this is based fundamentally on
the importance of the document and its interpretation. He cites
the fact that the Americans are exceptionally proud of that; and
that they point to only three other works which are subjected
 CONCEPTUAL INFLUENCES AND DEVELOPMENTS 43

to so much interpretation: the Bible, the Koran, and the Digests

(Jellinek 1906: 20). Yet, Jellinek argues that constitutions are not
so permanent and that they do undergo alteration and some
eventually die a slow death (Jellinek 1906: 45). His point is that
constitutions are legal documents, but they are also political and
are subject to political reform (Jellinek 1906: 56–58, 75). Jellinek
emphasized the dual nature of his investigation by subtitling
it “Eine staatsrechtlich-politische Abhandlung.” In a letter to
Jellinek from 27 August 1906, Weber wrote of the “great joy”
that he got from reading Jellinek’s small work and he especially
praised him for his scholarly separation of the legal and the
political aspects of the law (Weber 1990: 149, 152). Jellinek’s slim
volume not only prompted Weber to rethink the nature of basic
laws, but it also made him more aware of Jellinek’s contribution
to the analysis of legal concepts.14
In his “Max Weber und Georg Jellinek,” Andreas Anter
emphasized Jellinek’s influence on Weber’s formulation of con-
cepts (Anter 2000: 68–69). Anter repeatedly notes how much
and how often Weber and Jellinek focus on concepts. However,
their focus is almost exclusively on legal concepts (Anter 2000:
68, 72, 73, 74, 75, 79, 82, 85). This concern is extremely important
for understanding the similarities and differences in their legal
thinking, but serves here primarily as an indication of both the
importance of concepts and the more relevant and even more
crucial concept of the ideal type.
Jellinek’s main focus in Allgemeine Staatslehre was naturally on
the doctrine of the state, but his second concern was on develop-
ing the proper methodology for it. As Hans-Peter Albert pointed
out, Jellinek devoted 150 of 800 pages to methodology (Albert
1988: 45). As with Rickert and the others, Jellinek begins with
Neo-Kantian presuppositions such as making the differentiation
between sciences of causality and sciences of norms (Jellinek
1929: 19; see Albert 1988: 46–48). However, unlike them, he
moves to develop a different methodological approach. Jellinek
is uninterested in purely epistemological questions; rather, his
concern is with the social life and social interaction of human
44 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

beings (Jellinek 1929: 4, 10). Jellinek is convinced that law lacks

a sufficient methodology and although he does not offer a full
account here, he does believe that it is sufficient for his account
in his “Staatslehre” (Jellinek 1929: 24, 27). He grants that in the
natural sciences no two things are identical; however, he points
out that those sciences are uninterested in the individual as such,
but rather, only in the species. In contrast, the human sciences
are concerned with the individual, the unique and “unrepeat-
able” individual (Jellinek 1929: 30, see Albert 2003: 7, 17–18, 53).
Nonetheless, he allows that there are many traits that virtually
all human beings share (Jellinek 1929: 30–31). This leads him to
differentiate between different types; the “ideal type” and the
“empirical type.” Jellinek’s two types are crucially important
for his legal philosophy, but here they are indispensable to help
explain Weber’s own conception of the ideal type. This will be
the subject of the second part of the next section, but for now, a
few concluding words about Weber’s sources for his methodol-
ogy and conceptual thinking.
Rickert, Meyer, Lask, and Jellinek were all important for
Weber‘s thinking, but each was limited by their disciplines:
Rickert and Lask as philosophers, Meyer as historian, and Jellinek
as constitutional scholar. Weber made considerable use of their
methodological contributions, but primarily as aids in develop-
ing his own—one that would not be restricted to individual sci-
ences but one that could be applied to various disciplines. Rather
than being philosophical, historical, or even legal, Weber wanted
his to be “sociological” in the broadest sense of the word.

Conceptual Developments: Ideal Types

Max Weber never thought of himself as a philosopher and he never

claimed that he was an expert in methodology. Yet, he believed
that methodology was crucially important. Unfortunately, his
methodology is often misunderstood, despite a number of vol-
umes being devoted to it. One of his most important but also
most misunderstood methodological tools is his use of concepts.
 CONCEPTUAL INFLUENCES AND DEVELOPMENTS 45

It is misunderstood in part because he uses concepts not as fixed

definitions or universal rules, but as a point of departure. Martin
Albrow has made at least two important points about Weber and
ideal types: one, it is “a constant feature of his work” and two,
Weber uses them as a means to see the world not as it is, “but as
it might be.”15
Weber often began some of his major works by utilizing con-
cepts and definitions. For example, he begins the introduction
to the first volume of Die Wirtschaftsethik der Weltreligionen
by defining what he means by “world religions” (Weber 1989:
83). Weber begins most of the major areas of Wirtschaft
und Gesellschaft by defining his terms. “Recht” (“law”),
“Rechtsordnung” (“legal order”), and “Rechtsatz” (“legal prin-
ciple”) are three terms that he defines at the beginning of the
section on law (Weber 2010: 191). Weber begins the section on
“Herrschaften” by defining what he means by it, and he does the
same in the opening lines of the posthumously published “Die
drei reinen Typen der legitimen Herrschaften” (Weber 2005:
126, 726). This practice is most evident in the section devoted
to the “Stadt.” There, Weber titles the first section “Begriff und
Kategorien der Stadt” (“Concept and Categories of the City”)
and he insists that the concept can be defined in many differ-
ent ways (Weber 1999: 59–100). In contrast, Weber maintained
in the beginning of the section on “Religiöse Gemeinschaften”
that a definition of “religion” cannot be given at the beginning of
an investigation but can be found only at its conclusion (Weber
2001: 121). This was not his usual practice, but in this instance,
one must be content with a provisional definition.
Weber always began his lectures with definitions. He began
all of his lecture series at Freiburg with definitions. He provided
“conceptual foundations” (“begriffliche Grundlagen”) for his lec-
ture course on theoretical economics where his first task was to
provide the concept of “economy” (“Wirtschaft”) (Weber 2009a:
200–201). He started his lectures on the workers’ movement with
a concept concerning the “worker question” (“Arbeiterfrage”)
and he sets out the “typical basic forms of worker contracts”
46 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

(“typische Grundformen der Arbeitsverfassung”). (Weber 2009b:

70, 73, 77). Weber even began his lectures on agrarian problems
with a discussion about the “concept and methods” of agrarian
problems (Weber 2008: 71–75). Weber continued his practice of
beginning with concepts when he returned to teaching in 1918.
The entire introduction to his lecture course on economic his-
tory that he gave at Munich is titled “Preliminary Conceptual
Remarks” (“Begriffliche Vorbemerkung”), and the first section is
concerned with “fundamental concepts” (“Grundbegriffe”) fol-
lowed by a delineation of the “types of economic performance”
(“Typen der wirtschaftlichen Leistungsgliedrung”) (Weber 2011:
81–94). In addition, Weber began the final chapter on the devel-
opment of modern capitalism with the “Concept and presup-
positions of modern capitalism” (“Begriff und Voraussetzungen
des modernen Kapitalismus”) (Weber 2011: 317–320). Finally,
he began his final lecture course on the “sociology of the state”
(‘Staatssoziologie’) by offering his “concept of the state” (“Begriff
des Staates”) which he then moved to discuss the “types of legiti-
mate domination” (“Typen der legitimen Herrschaften”) (Weber
2009c: 66–71). Weber was preoccupied with concepts in almost
all of his writings, but the one that he seemed most concerned
with was the one that he called the “ideal type.”

Ideal Types

Weber’s notion of ideal types is rather controversial, mostly

because there is no real consensus about what he means by it;
and there is not much agreement about how it is supposed to
function. Von Schelting believed that it was pointless to even try
to explain what Weber meant by ideal types because his account
was full of contradictions and lacked clarity (von Schelting
1934: 329). Hiliard Aronovitch agreed that Weber’s account of
ideal types could never be rid of all of its inconsistencies; how-
ever, he believed that it was an important part of Weber’s meth-
odology and so it needed to be retained (Aronovitch 2012: 356).
Dieter Henrich also acknowledged the “endless conflict” about
 CONCEPTUAL INFLUENCES AND DEVELOPMENTS 47

Weber’s ideal types, but he, too, believed that they played a cen-
tral role in Weber’s scientific methodology (Henrich 1952: 84).
Weber himself insisted that they were crucial and they played
a fundamental role in his writings. In his 2007 book on Weber,
Hans-Peter Mü ller referred to the notion of the ideal type as one
of the most central parts of his methodology.16 This is especially
the case with regard to his sociology of religion; accordingly, it
is important to try to clarify what he meant by them. Regardless
of whether one agrees with some scholars that Jellinek was
Weber’s methodological mentor or that Weber even borrowed
the notion of ideal type from him, a good place to begin is with
Jellinek’s distinction between ideal and empirical types (Anter
1996: 24; Albert 1988: 55). If nothing else, this use of contrasting
is one of Weber’s personally favorite practices; he used contrast-
ing cases in order to highlight certain key features of his own
theories.
Jellinek’s typology is found in the second chapter of his
Allgemeine Staatslehre, which is titled “Die Methodik der
Staatslehre” (“The Method of the Doctrine of the State”). There
are two major types: the “ideal type” (“idealer Typus”) and the
“empirical type” (“empirische Typus”). The “empirical type” is
developed inductively; as such, it has several positive features.
First, it has positive practical features—it provides clarity and
richness. Second, it has the positive theoretical feature of being
heuristic (Jellinek: 1929: 41). By employing the “empirical type,”
one can amass a number of instances and from those draw
some probable conclusions. The greater the number of similar
instances the greater the probability that the portrayal of the
future will be accurate (Jellinek 1929: 41). Hence, the “empirical
type” has many scientific benefits.
Jellinek contrasts the “empirical type” with the “ideal type.”
Unlike the former, the latter has a long and rich history. The
origins of the “ideal type” can be traced back to the Greeks; it
was employed by the Scholastics and is part of contemporary sci-
entific investigations (Jellinek 1929: 34). Jellinek notes that this
type of concept is teleological; thus, it is not focused on “being”
48 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

(“Seiendes”) but on what “should be” (“Seinsollendes”). It is the

standard of the given; what is good and is right. That which does
not meet the standard must be overcome. With respect to the
doctrine of the state, the ideal type leads to the notion of the
“best state” (Jellinek 1929: 34–35). Jellinek notes that, despite its
present use, this type is no longer a reliable factor in scientific
investigations. He acknowledges that there is a universal human
yearning for this “ideal type” but that this is not an “object of
knowledge” (“Objekt des Wissens”) but an “object of faith”
(“Objekt des Glaubes”) (Jellinek 1929: 36). Jellinek’s connection
of the “ideal type” with the notion of the “best state” leads to a
brief discussion of Plato and his theory of Forms.
In a number of the so-called middle dialogs, Plato has Socrates
develop a theory of concepts. No longer is Socrates portrayed
as being content to ask, “What is something?” as he was in the
earlier, so-called Socratic dialogs, now, he is building a concep-
tual framework. Plato divides the “world” into two: the realm
of appearances and the realm of the Forms. The first realm is
always changing, and is filled with many different objects; the
second realm is unchanging and is singular. The “objects” in
the world of appearances “participate” in, strive to “be like,” or
are “similar to” the real objects, that is, the Forms. Thus, many
things and many people may share in beauty, but there is only
one Form of the Beautiful, or as Plato also says, the “Beautiful
Itself.” The term “good” can be applied in many ways: “good”
food, “good” people, and “good” weather, but there is only one
Form of the Good, or the “Good Itself.” These forms are “ideal”
in both of Jellinek’s senses: they do not exist empirically and
they are teleological. In both the Symposium and in the Republic
Plato develops a hierarchy of Forms, but it is in the latter dia-
log that Plato utilizes the Form of the Good in conjunction with
his doctrine of the state. In Book Seven of the Republic, Socrates
offers the “parable of the cave,” in which people are chained to
the wall in a cave and believe that the flickering shadows cast
by the firelight are real things. The philosopher leaves the cave
and goes above ground, and by the light of the sun is finally able
 CONCEPTUAL INFLUENCES AND DEVELOPMENTS 49

to see things as they really are. People are like those in the cave,
while only philosophers are able to apprehend the Forms. Weber
was quite familiar with the Republic and he utilized the “parable
of the cave” in Wissenschaft als Beruf. There, Weber spoke of
Plato’s search for “true being” and he credits Socrates for dis-
covering the “concept.” Socrates’s discovery of the concept was
the first of the “greatest tools”; the second was the development
of the rational experiment during the Renaissance (Weber 1992:
88–90). Together, these two “tools” led to the “disenchantment
of the world”; however, the “cultural sciences” required a partic-
ular type of concept—hence, Weber developed his ideal types.
In other words, Weber’s sociology was “free from metaphysics”
(Oppenheimer 1925: 33).
Although Weber used his notion of ideal types throughout his
writings, he provided two accounts of them; an earlier one and a
much later one17. He offered his first account in the “Objectivity”
article from 1904. The occasion was the first volume of the newly
renamed journal with Weber, Werner Sombart, and Edgar Jaffé
as editors. Together, they gave an overview of the focus of the
Archiv für Sozialwissenschaft und Sozialpolitik and how they were
going to address problems. The journal would focus primarily
on economic issues as they related to social ones and the editors
insisted that they would not be adhering to any particular ide-
ology but would be treating problems from a purely scholarly
viewpoint (Weber 1922b: 146–147). Weber himself stressed that
he would not be interested in purely economic problems but in
all “‘economically relevant’” (“‘wirtschaftlich relevanten’”) ones,
by which he meant culturally important ones (Weber 1922b:
163–164). This is a matter of selection, and so Weber insisted that
there cannot be a “simply ‘objective’ scientific analysis of cul-
tural life” (“schlechthin ‘objektive’ wissenschaftliche Analyse des
Kulturlebens”). Instead, there is a subjective process of selecting
what is important. Furthermore, the results will be neither a sin-
gle individual like in history nor a general law like in the natural
sciences. Rather, Weber is concerned with generalities and with
types, specifically, ideal types (Weber 1922b: 171, 175–179).
50 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

Weber emphasizes the ideal part of his investigations by sug-

gesting that they offer an “ideal picture” (“Idealbild”). It is a
“mental picture” (“Gedankenbild”) and, as such, does not cap-
ture reality. Instead, it offers a “construction” by which we can
think about reality; it is simply a heuristic device that can help
explain reality. Weber writes, “It is not a presentation of the real,
but it will provide a presentation of an unambiguous means of
expression.”18 The ideal type is a tool and it has several functions;
one is to provide “genetic concepts” (“genetische Begriffe”). As an
indication that he was working on the Protestant Ethic Weber
uses the concepts “church” (“Kirche”) and “sect” (“Sekt”). They
are not drawn from reality, but are conceptually pure. They do
not describe reality, but they are the means by which one can
grasp that which is essential (Weber 1922b: 195). By this, Weber
does not mean “essence” in the old philosophical term for what
is essentially real. Instead, they give us a sense or an approxi-
mation of being essentially worthwhile. They may only provide
relative validity, but they certainly provide conceptual clarity
(Weber 1922b: 196). They are the conceptual means that can
help us compare and measure; not just in the “logical” sense but
in providing practical results (Weber 1922b: 198–199, 201–202).
Weber concludes by reminding his reader that ideal types are
not real things, but are only heuristic tools. They do not describe
reality as it is, but offer mental constructions. They are method-
ological instruments of the highest order (Weber 1922b: 203).
Weber spent much of the final months of his life correcting
the page proofs for two of his major writings: the first volume
of the “Religionssoziologie” and the first part of Wirtschaft und
Gesellschaft. It is in the introductory section of the first chapter
of Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft that Weber again addresses his
notion of the ideal types. That he had not fundamentally altered
his thinking about them since his earlier account is substanti-
ated by his directing the reader to the “Objectivity” essay (Weber
2013a: 156). He again emphasizes that ideal types are “construc-
tions” thus are not to be regarded as real. Similarly, he rejects the
idea that they can be a “collective concept” because it does not
 CONCEPTUAL INFLUENCES AND DEVELOPMENTS 51

match with any such thing and it is useless in scientific think-

ing. He stresses that sociology deals with the activity of the indi-
vidual, thus cannot be subsumed under “laws” and “rules” as in
natural science. What sociology can do is to provide accounts
of the “typical ‘activities’” (“typische ‘Handeln’”) and the vari-
ous “types of ‘functions’” (“Typen von ‘Funktionären’”) (Weber
2013a: 163–167). If there is to be talk of “laws” in sociology, they
can only be approximations; rather than firm and fixed, they
can only be “typical” (Weber 2013: 169). In contrast with histo-
ry’s concern with the causal analysis of the individual, sociology
strives for concepts built on certain generalities. He again insists
that these are far removed from reality, and are only “averages.”
However, these are not real averages, but are ideal constructions.
As such, ideal types are “constructive concepts” (“konstruk-
tive Begriffe”) and are employed as heuristic devices (Weber
2013a: 170–172). Weber concludes by insisting that in the choice
between “unclear” “real” concepts and “clear” “irreal” concepts
the scientist must choose the latter, that is, the “ideal types.”19
The concepts that Weber utilizes in his discussions of the eco-
nomic ethics of the world religions are not intended to be histor-
ically accurate. Weber was neither a historian nor a specialist in
any of the religions—points that he clearly made. Instead, Weber
used his own ideal types to select and to generalize what he
believed to be the most essential points about each subject. Thus,
it is inappropriate to criticize Weber for not getting the historical
specifics right or to fault him for pretending to be a specialist in
areas that he was not. He wanted to provide a genuine sense of
the impact that economics and ethics had on religious beliefs,
and that is why his ideal typical concepts are still valuable.
 Part II

Fundamental Concepts
 4

Asceticism and Mysticism

T hroughout much of his life, Weber was preoccupied with

the notion of asceticism. It has a central place in his early
work the Protestant Ethic and it is prominent in the section
devoted to religious communities in the later writing Wirtschaft
und Gesellschaft. At first glance, it seems that Weber did not
have a similar interest in mysticism and it seems as if his dis-
cussions of it are not as important as the ones devoted to ascet-
icism. However, upon closer inspection, this first glance is not
substantiated for two reasons. First, he explains asceticism by
contrasting it with mysticism and second, he does tend to give
it equal importance. Regarding the first point, Weber tended
to refer to asceticism as something that was active, as opposed
to mysticism, which he tended to regard as passive. He did this
primarily to emphasize the theoretical differences between
the ascetic and the mystic; however, in doing so he seemed to
ignore the actual history of ascetic mystics. However, this is a
misunderstanding for several reasons. First, he often made use
of contrasts in order to highlight concepts. Second, his pri-
mary focus was on asceticism and, specifically, on a particular
type of Protestant asceticism. This is what he called “inner-
worldly” asceticism, and two of its most important character-
istics were its emphasis on individualism and the importance
of ethical conduct. Weber’s interest in this type of asceticism
came primarily as a result of his preoccupation with the devel-
opment of modern capitalism and as well with the conditions
56 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

for social interaction. Regarding the second point, Weber

makes it clear in several ways that he personally disapproved
of a number of theologians. He disliked their passivity and
he objected to their refusal to understand the importance of
politics. This might be regarded as an indication of a dislike
of Catholic theologians; however, the theologian that Weber
found most problematic was the Reformer, Martin Luther.
Thus, Weber’s contrast between the ascetic and the mystic is
not as straightforward as it might seem and Weber’s personal
estimation of the mystic is not as clear-cut as it may appear.
This chapter is divided into three main sections: first, asceti-
cism and mysticism; second, Weber’s contrast between ascet-
icism and mysticism; and third, Weber’s personal appraisal of
asceticism as well as mysticism.

Asceticism and Mysticism

Weber may have been one of the first sociologists to draw atten-
tion to the concepts of asceticism and mysticism, but historians of
religion have a long tradition of studying them. With few excep-
tions, theological historians have a long tradition of discussing
the connections between asceticism and mysticism. However,
Weber rejected the traditional way of noting the historical con-
nection when he stressed the opposition between the two, and he
did so for both methodological and substantial reasons. In order
to understand Weber’s own particular conceptions of asceticism
and of mysticism and to appreciate the ways in which he used
each of them in his sociology of religion, it is necessary first to
investigate their historical roots and to discuss their traditional
descriptions.1
The term “asceticism” comes from the ancient Greek term
“askesis,” and was used to mean “exercise,” “practice,” or “train-
ing.” Karl Heussi, one of the foremost authorities on asceticism
wrote that it originally referred to the practice of athletes who
train for sports competitions (Heussi 1908: 727). Asceticism
can be defined as the practice of self-discipline, self-denial, and
 ASCETICISM AND MYSTICISM 57

self-restraint in order to achieve a specific goal. This goal can be

a physical one, but it is more often a spiritual one. The practice of
asceticism can be found in all parts of the world and throughout
history. In his later writings, Weber showed interest in the concept
of asceticism as practiced throughout the world, but his original
interest was focused on a specific type of Christian asceticism.
This is what Weber called “innerwordly” asceticism, and while
this Protestant type departed in many ways from early Christian
asceticism, it did share several important characteristics. These
included the emphasis on the individual, the emphasis on ethical
conduct, and perhaps most importantly for Weber, the emphasis
on self-control. For these reasons and because Christian asceti-
cism has been the most studied, it is the proper place to begin in
order to understand Weber’s conception of asceticism.
The earliest Christian ascetics were interested in one thing:
seeing God. They had no use for family or friends, and they
rejected society as well as doctrine. The original ascetics were
the first monks, meaning those who lived alone in the desert
wilderness. While we tend to associate the term “monk” with the
medieval monastery, these original monks predated the Middle
Ages by centuries, if not by almost a thousand years. The evi-
dence of these first monks suggests that they appeared in the late
part of the third century and the beginning of the fourth cen-
tury. They withdrew from human contact because they believed
that society was marred, if not evil, and they wished to create a
new order that would be specifically devoted to God. Human
society was to be shunned because it reflected the temptations
of the world; these monks believed that they had enough of a
struggle with their own temptations. Like many Christians, the
ascetic monks believed that there was a dualism between God
and the world and that this dualism was reflected in the dual-
ism of soul and body (Seeberg 1897: 135; Harnack 1904: 90). The
devil was present not only in the world, but also in the body; the
monks employed various ascetic practices in order to ward off
the devil. These included the inflicting of punishment, the eat-
ing of a few plants, and especially, living in isolation. However,
58 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

many monks began to band together and form religious com-

munities. We may associate the monastic life with the medieval
period but monasteries were being formed as early as the third
century.
The monasteries were developed in order to wall off the
monks from the world as well as from the Church. These
monks distrusted the Church for several reasons: the increas-
ing authority and expanding hierarchy as well as its empha-
sis on doctrine and the willingness to accommodate the
world. The purpose of monasticism was not purely negative;
it also was to foster a certain degree of safety and regular-
ity. Benedict of Nursia was the one who radically transformed
the lives of the monks; he gave them the Rules by which they
should conduct their lives. In addition, he had them replace
the older, harsh ascetic practices with a life dedicated to both
contemplation and activity. In his article on “Mönchtum” in
the Realencyklopädie f ür protestantische Theologie und Kirche,
Richard Gr ützmacher suggested that it was not so much that
Benedict’s Rules were original as it was their mildness and
flexibility, and that is part of the reason that they expanded
their influence (Gr ützmacher 1903: 231). Gr ützmacher also
suggested that Saint Francis of Assisi continued Benedict’s
movement away from “Weltflucht” in two ways: first, by insist-
ing that monks live among the people and continue to preach
and second, by expanding the ranks of the monks to include
more people and not just certain aristocrats (Gr ützmacher
1903: 232). Like Adolf Harnack, Gr ützmacher connected
the earlier ascetics with “Weltflucht,” but suggested that
their need to withdraw from the world was gradually being
replaced with an obligation to perform duties within the world
(Gr ützmacher 1903: 233; Harnack 1904: 122–124). This move
away from the tendency to flee the world toward an active par-
ticipation within it marks a major turning point, and one that
will become important in Weber’s account of asceticism. The
second point that is a continuation of the ascetic tradition is
the emphasis on the moral foundations.
 ASCETICISM AND MYSTICISM 59

In his article “Askese” in the third edition of the

Realencyklopädie für protestantische Theologie und Kirche,
Reinhold Seeberg stressed the moral foundation of asceticism
and he emphasized its individualism (Seeberg 1897: 142). The
three articles on asceticism in the first edition of the Religion in
Geschichte und Gegenwart each stress something different about
asceticism: Gretzmann underscored the importance of fasting
and dietary restrictions in his “Askese: I. im AT.”; Karl Heussi
emphasized the medieval ascetics rejection of Church dogma in
“Askese: II. Kirchengeschichtlich”; and Otto Scheel emphasized
the importance of ethics in most types of asceticism in “Askese:
III. Ethisch” (Gretzmann 1909: 726–727; Heussi 1909: 727–729;
Scheel 1909: 729–738). All three placed emphasis on the notions
of purity and the belief that the connection to God will come
outside of any organized Church. While historically there is
much to be said for this claim, the fact that all three of these
authorities were Protestant scholars suggests that they were just
as much concerned about doctrinal differences with the Catholic
Church as they were with giving a purely historical account. This
is another instance in which it is hard to determine how much of
an account is determined by historical accuracy and how much
it is influenced by theological motives.
The preceding was intended to show that the complex his-
tory of asceticism means that the concept is not easy to under-
stand. This makes it even more difficult to grasp Weber’s own
particular use of the term. While the notion of asceticism is one
of the fundamental concepts in Weber’s writings, Weber never
clearly defines it. Weber often offered definitions of concepts, so
it is rather odd that he never gave a definition of asceticism. In
light of this, anyone wishing to provide an account of this funda-
mental concept must look at a number of his works. These range
from the original edition of the Protestant Ethic to the much later
Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft (See Adair-Toteff 2010: 109).
In contrast to the prominence that Weber gave to asceticism, his
comments on mysticism are far less pronounced. Consequently,
Weber’s conception of mysticism is often oversimplified and it is
60 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

frequently minimized. Scholars insist that Weber’s natural incli-

nation is toward asceticism and that he had no personal interest
in mysticism. They also suggest that Weber’s primary concern
was with rationalism and since mysticism is inherently irratio-
nal, it must be outside of Weber’s interest. As a result of these
convictions, scholars have generally tended to avoid the topic of
Weber and mysticism.2 However, Weber had far more scholarly
interest in it than was previously thought, and as will be shown
later in this section, on occasion, he seemed to have a personal
interest in it as well. Part of Weber’s own concern with mysti-
cism coincided with the interest shown by a number of Weber’s
German contemporaries. To mention three of the most impor-
tant scholars: Wilhelm Preger, Rudolf Otto, and, most impor-
tantly, Ernst Troeltsch. These were primarily Protestant scholars,
but also Catholic theologians were engaged in research on mys-
ticism and mystics
Some of these scholars concentrated on one specific mystic.
To offer a few examples: Heinrich Suso Denifle published a mas-
sive book titled Das Geistliche Leben. This work is ostensibly
a biography of Heinrich Suso but is just as much a defense of
Catholicism.3 During the middle part of the nineteenth century,
several authors published works on Meister Eckhart, but one
appeared in Vienna while the other was published in Posen. The
publishing company that perhaps contributed the most to the
exploration of German mysticism was Eugen Diederich’s com-
pany in Jena. Diederich published a two-volume collection of
Meister Eckhart’s work in 1912 and he published a two-volume
collection of Johannes Tauler’s sermons the following year.4 Then
there were a few scholars who sought to understand mysticism
as a whole. The best representative of this attempt was Wilhelm
Preger who strove to provide a complete overview of Western
mysticism during the Middle Ages. His Geschichte der Deutschen
Mystik im Mittelalter was published in three volumes between
1874 and 1893.5 Then there was Rudolf Otto; his focus was on the
irrational in religious life, and so he investigated both Western
and Eastern mysticism in his Das Heilige. First published in 1917,
 ASCETICISM AND MYSTICISM 61

it was reprinted repeatedly and has been considered one of the

most influential books on religion from the twentieth century.
The book’s subtitle Über das Irrationale in der Idee des Göttlichen
und sein Verhältniss zum Rationale indicates his preoccupation
with the nonrational in religion. Finally, while Troeltsch never
seemed to be personally attracted to mysticism, he was instru-
mental in promoting an objective assessment of it. It most likely
was Troeltsch who prompted Weber to focus more attention on
mysticism and to better appreciate its importance. Shortly after
the appearance of Weber’s Protestant Ethic, Troeltsch began pub-
lishing a series of lengthy articles in the same journal in which
Weber’s essay had appeared. The articles that Troeltsch published
in the Archiv für Sozialwissenschaft und Sozialpolitik became the
core of what later appeared as Die Soziallehren der christlichen
Kirchen und Gruppen. This title is important for several reasons:
first, there is the issue of “Lehren,” which is plural so it should
be translated as the “social doctrines” or “social teachings,” not
a single doctrine or teaching. Second, it is “christlichen Kirchen
und Gruppen,” and not simply “Christian Churches.” While the
first two chapters and the beginning of chapter three appeared
in the Archiv, the sections on Calvin and on the types of sects
and mysticism were written later and are found only in the book
form. Troeltsch devoted almost 100 pages to the discussion of
various types of Christian mysticism. What is important here
is Troeltsch’s dual claim that the roots of Protestant mysticism
are found in pre-Reformation writings and that it is difficult
to draw the boundary between sects and mysticism (Troeltsch
1912: 848–849). Troeltsch suggested that both members of sects
and mystics rejected the increasing “objectivization” of religion
and promoted a subjective and more individual approach. He
defined “mysticism in the broadest sense” as the longing for the
“immediacy, inwardness, and the presence of religious experi-
ence” (“Unmittelbarkeit, Innerlichkeit, und Gegenwärtigkeit
des religiösen Erlebnisses”) (Troeltsch 1912: 850). But Troeltsch
also defined mysticism in its “narrower and technical sense”
(“engeren und technischen Sinne”) as the “immediate unity with
62 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

God”) (“unmittelbare Gotteinung”). This became an important

religious principle and exerted tremendous influence through-
out Christian thought (Troeltsch 1912: 853, 856). This is in large
part because the hierarchical Church and its doctrines appear to
be composed of “dead letters and ceremonies” (“tote Buchstaben
und Zeremonien”) compared to the “personal living piety”
(“persönlich lebendigen Frömmigkeit”) of the German mystics
(Troeltsch 1912: 859). Troeltsch connects the individualism of
the mystic with that of the sect; both are founded in their oppo-
sition to the visible Church (Troeltsch 1912: 866). Troeltsch does
not specifically single out his former teacher’s important work
“Ueber die Begriffe: sichtbare und unsichbare Kirche.”6 First
published in 1859 and reprinted in the first volume of Ritschl’s
Gesammelte Aufsätze, this article chronicles the distinction
between the visible and the invisible Church. Ritschl traces the
origins of the distinction to Zwingli (Ritschl 1893: 68). However,
it can be traced back to Luther and his emphasis on faith rather
than good works, and his contrast between “inner and outer
Christianity.”7 What is important in this distinction is that in
the Protestant Ethic, Weber maintains that the saying “extra
ecclesiam nulla salus” (“no salvation outside of the church”)
is not completely accurate because it depends upon the type
of church to which it refers. It is not accurate because even the
Reprobate can belong to the visible church (Weber 2014: 260). In
one sense, the individual (Protestant/Puritan) Christian belongs
to the invisible church but in another sense, he stands outside
of any church and any community. To return to Troeltsch, he
shared much of Weber’s preoccupation with the individual and
he believed that modern life was breaking down the social order.
What he did not share was Weber’s pessimism; as a Christian,
Troeltsch believed that life had meaning and that the various
religious organizations conferred hope. Troeltsch was not a his-
torian, but he had a keen sense of understanding history and
an appreciation for those key moments when historical changes
occurred. Furthermore, despite being a Protestant, he had both
a sufficient understanding of, and an appreciation for, many of
 ASCETICISM AND MYSTICISM 63

the ways that Roman Catholicism contributed to the growth of

Christianity.8
One of the ways in which Troeltsch differed from many of his
more polemical minded contemporaries was in his belief that the
Reformation was not a total break with the past and his conviction
that many of the reformers regarded their Catholic predecessors
with respect. It is in this regard that Troeltsch argued that a num-
ber of the more notable theologians of the time of the Reformation
were heavily influenced by the German mystics; and especially
by Johannes Tauler (Troeltsch 1912: 881, 896). These reformers
rejected the willingness of the Roman Catholic Church to com-
promise, thus a major concern of the sects was rigor. Troeltsch
makes this claim in his 1910 speech given at the first conference
of the Deutsche Gesellschaft für Soziologie. In his “Das stoisch-
christliche Naturrecht und das moderne profane Naturrecht”
Troeltsch offered an overview of his Church-Sect-Mystic typology
(see Troeltsch 1911: 171). Weber and Ferdinand Tönnies raised
important points regarding Troeltsch’s speech; Weber empha-
sized the connection between sects and the cities while Tönnies
wanted to stress the rationalism of the Enlightenment. It was,
however, Georg Simmel who raised the most problematic issue
with his question of whether all of Christianity lacked a social
component. He based his question on the fact that Christianity
has always emphasized the individual’s relationship to God. So,
it is not just the mystic who has the personal connection, but
rather the members of sects as well as members of the Church
(Verhandlungen 1911: 192–205). Simmel’s point about the indi-
vidualism of Christianity leads back to Weber and his emphasis
on the individual in both asceticism and mysticism.

Weber’s Contrast between Asceticism and Mysticism

In Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft Weber paints a stark contrast

between asceticism and mysticism, indicating that they are in
effect opposites. Weber bases this opposition on one major fac-
tor: that the ascetic is active and the mystic is passive. However,
64 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

this contrast between asceticism and mysticism is rather difficult

to accept because it goes against most of the prevailing accounts
of both concepts. Weber sought to portray asceticism as con-
trary to mysticism, when in fact the two were almost always
combined throughout much of the history of Christianity. In the
early history of the Church, those who were ascetics were fre-
quently mystics and this was especially true in the case of the
monks. For example, in his “Das Mönchtum: Seine Ideal und
Seine Geschichte” Adolf Harnack described both the Greek and
the Roman Catholic Church as being united in their belief that
the Christian life is one lived in the service of God. And that
meant the rejection of all the goods of life, as well as property,
marriage, personal will, and personal honor. As Harnack put it,
it was the “religiöse Weltflucht” (“religious fleeing the world”)
into “Mönchtum” (“monktum”) (Harnack 1904: 83). More rele-
vantly, Harnack suggested that the monks combined asceticism
with mystical speculation (Harnack 1904: 112). In his article
on “Mönchtum” in Die Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart,
Karl Heussi connects the early monks’ asceticism with his desire
for the mystical union with God (Heussi 1913: 430). However,
as Troeltsch made clear, one of the greatest theologians who
stressed the mystical union with God was not an early monk,
but was the great Reformer, Martin Luther.9
Weber’s attitude toward Martin Luther is rather complicated
and some of this is prompted by the various aspects of Luther that
Weber was discussing. For example, there are passages in Weber’s
writings where Weber makes it very clear that he thought highly
of Luther as a person. One such passage is found toward the end
of Politik als Beruf. Unlike the political dilettantes who appeared
to appeal to principles but were actually unwilling to follow them
fully, Martin Luther lived by them. Weber pointed to Luther as
someone who acted with full appreciation for the consequences
of his principled stand. When Luther said “ich kann nicht anders,
hier stehe ich,” Weber believed that Luther was doing something
that was “humanly real” (“menschlich echt”) and that he was
fully embracing the responsibilities of his actions. He was acting
 ASCETICISM AND MYSTICISM 65

as a “reifer Mensch” (“mature human being”) and was acting in

full accordance with the “Verantwortungsethik.”10 In an earlier
letter to the well-respected Protestant theologian Adolf Harnack,
Weber wrote that he believed that Luther “towered over all oth-
ers” (“So turmhoch Luther über allen Anderen steht”). In the
Protestant Ethic, Weber refers to Luther as a “religious genius”
(“religiöse Genius”) (Weber 2014: 306). Therefore, there should
be little doubt that Weber had great respect for Luther as a per-
son and that he recognized his theological importance. However,
Weber had nothing but disdain for Luther’s influence. Indeed,
he blamed Luther’s influence for some of the worse traits that
Germans had. In the same letter to Harnack Weber insisted that
Lutheranism (“Luthertum”) as a historical form is the “most
terrible of the terrible” (“der schrecklichste der Schrecken”).
Weber believed this because it meant that no German could ever
become a “sect-man,” and that as a nation, Germany could never
go through the “school of hard asceticism” (“Schule des harten
Asketismus”) (Weber 1990: 32–33). The question is, did Weber
believe that Luther was a mystic and if so, did Weber think that
that was necessarily a bad thing? The answer to these ques-
tions is not as straightforward as it might seem and, in order
to answer, it will involve discussing a number of important and
related issues. They will include Luther’s notion of “Beruf” and
Luther’s relation to the mystic Johannes Tauler. The first con-
nects Luther to the Reformation and the future while the second
connects him to the Middle Ages and looks to the past.
In the Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism, Weber
suggests that two interconnected notions helped propel the West
into developing modern rational capitalism: Luther’s expansion
of the notion of “Beruf” and Calvin’s doctrine of predestination.
Leaving aside Calvin’s doctrine for later, it is important here to
concentrate on Luther’s notion of “Beruf.”11 Weber relied heavily
on the then recent book by Karl Eger Die Anschauung Luthers vom
Beruf (Weber 2014: 55, 109, 120, 187 n. 48, 190 n. 64, 192 n. 72, 194
n. 79, 201 n. 17, 202 n. 22, 203 n. 29, 204 n. 31 and 32, 205 n. 35,
206 n. 39, 207 n. 43). Eger’s major point was to show that Luther
66 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

was very much a reformer and to show how important his notion
of “Beruf” was. Weber adopted both of these aspects from Eger’s
book and employs them in the section of the Protestant Ethic.
Weber himself explicitly notes how much he learned from Eger’s
book and the only fault that he found with it was that it lacked a
sufficiently clear analysis of the notion of natural law. However,
Weber believed that most theological works suffered from the
same flaw (Weber 2014: 190 n. 41). Eger’s work was not on nat-
ural law, but was mostly on Luther’s ethics, as Eger indicated in
his subtitle “Ein Beitrag zur Ethik Luthers.” Eger points out that
Luther positioned Christianity against the state and the Church
because both of those were predicated on the use of coercion and
force, whereas Christianity was based upon the voluntary will
to do good (Eger 1900: 7). Second, Eger contrasts Christianity’s
emphasis on the individual in opposition to any statutory laws
and he contrasts God’s ideal justice with the earthly approxima-
tions (Eger 1900: 9). Third, Eger contrasts Christianity’s clear
preference for the spiritual kingdom over the physical world.
In accordance with this, the Christian will lead an ascetic’s life
and will renounce all physical desires (Eger 1900: 10–11). Here,
Eger draws the connection to the ascetic monk, but in all of this,
he is setting out the Church’s teaching (Eger 1900: 13–14). The
Church had also divided the Christian life into two types—the
active and the contemplative—and had placed more value on the
latter. Eger insists that Luther accepted this traditional division,
however, he did not believe that the contemplative life was better
than the active one (Eger 1900: 15). Rather, Eger maintains that
Luther counseled against the desire to flee the world and instead
emphasized the importance of remaining true to it. In particu-
lar, he stressed the importance of working at menial jobs, such
as the work of the tailor, the shoemaker, or any craftsman (Eger
1900: 22). Eger especially emphasizes Luther’s claim that each
person must pay attention to the “Beruf” that he or she has been
called to (Eger 1900: 33, 59, 149). This is natural, as Luther had
always insisted that “man is born to work as the bird is [born] to
fly” (“der Mensch ist zum Arbeiten geboren wie der Vogel zum
 ASCETICISM AND MYSTICISM 67

Fliegen”) (Eger 1900: 42, 147, 152). This applies to all forms of
activity and work: the everyday life of activity worth the same
as the special life of contemplation. And the normal work of the
peasant or the house wife has the same value in God’s eyes as
does the most pious work of the monks and the Church’s spir-
itual leaders (Eger 1900: 54). It is to Luther’s credit that he has
argued that there is no real opposition between Christians and
those who live in the world. Moreover, it is to his credit that he
has shown that Christianity is the community of believers who
“live in the world ” (Eger 1900: 81, 91). Accordingly, the Christian
has the duty to fulfill the divine obligation that one has to work
in the “earthly calling” (“irdische Beruf”) (Eger 1900: 92–93). In
addition, he believed that Luther showed how in marriage there
is “more practice of faith, love, and hope than there is in the clois-
ter” (“mehr Uebung des Glaubens, der Liebe, der Hoffnung als
im Kloster”) (Eger 1900: 114). Eger understands why the monks
have chosen to “flee the world.” There is little choice, given that
the Catholic Church has “devalued” all of the earthly vocations
and has “denounced” the natural order of life (Eger 1900: 69).
And though he can somewhat comprehend why the monks have
chosen to lead an ascetic type of life, he cannot begin to under-
stand why they would want to lead such an unhealthy life, given
that it is contrary to God’s natural order (Eger 1900: 105–106).
The holy life is not one devoted occasionally to suffering, but
rather is one that is the life that is lived in its entirety in accor-
dance to God’s natural order. In Eger’s view, Luther’s apprecia-
tion for earthly matters in daily life only increased with growing
older, suggesting that Luther became even more of a reformer the
older that he became (Eger 1900: 129, 138, 159). And Eger con-
cluded that Luther’s greatness stems in part from the recognition
that the “Evangelical concept of being faithful to our calling is in
obedience to God and conscience and in the service of human-
ity.” Eger’s clear implication is that Luther’s demonstration that
one’s worldly vocation has at least as much worth as a monk’s
otherworldly calling was a marked departure in the history of
Christianity. One can conclude from this that Eger believed that
68 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

Luther looked toward the future and at least partially repudiated

the past. This is underscored by Eger’s lack of interest in investi-
gating the influence of the German mystics on Luther; he simply
notes it in passing (Eger 1900: 19).
Weber adopted most aspects of Eger’s account of Luther’s the-
ology. Weber took up Eger’s account on how Luther expanded
the notion of “Beruf” (“calling”) to those vocations other than
religious vocations. Instead of insisting that the only vocation
was a Churchly one, Luther insisted that God had indicated that
the notion of vocation applied to every type. Thus, just like the
Catholic priest has a calling, so too does everyone. While one may
not have the prestige that goes with being a priest, one still has
the moral duty to one’s vocation out of obedience to God. Weber
also repeats Eger’s claim that it was Luther who had emphasized
that God has placed one in one’s calling and so one must remain
in it (Weber 2014: 178). Weber also emphasizes Eger’s sugges-
tion that the term “vocation” is not found in the Bible but in
Luther’s rendition. However, Weber departs from Eger’s account
by looking at the influence of the German mystics, and he spe-
cifically notes that Luther’s understanding of the importance of
work is found in the works of Johannes Tauler. Before turning to
Weber’s account of Tauler and the importance of work, it is help-
ful to have an understanding of Tauler and his position within
the tradition of German mysticism.
Johannes Tauler is regarded as one of the three Rhineland
mystics because it is believed that they either studied or taught in
places along the Rhine River. The most famous of the Rhineland
mystics was Meister Eckhart, and both Tauler and the third
Rhineland mystic, Heinrch Seuse, had been heavily influ-
enced by Eckhart.12 Unlike Eckhart and Seuse, Tauler was not a
trained theologian nor was he interested in metaphysical subtle-
ties. Instead, he regarded himself as a rather normal person and
stressed practical values (Gohrs 1907: 455; McGinn 2005: 249).
McGinn notes that like a number of his fellow mystics Tauler
believed that there was a growing gap between the mystics and
the theologians. While the theologians were preoccupied with
 ASCETICISM AND MYSTICISM 69

scholastic disputes, it was the mystics who were concerned with

the living spirit of God (McGinn 2005: 248–249, 281). All three
mystics were concerned with this spirit, but especially Tauler.
Unlike Eckhart and Seuse, Tauler never appeared to have written
a specifically theological work, but instead concentrated on ser-
mons. These sermons included hints on practical living; in fact,
McGinn describes Tauler’s mysticism as being “experiential and
practical” (McGinn 2005: 265). He explains that Tauler is expe-
riential not in the sense of psychological investigations but in
the sense of seeking to understand by listening to one’s self. That
is, a type of self-knowledge that is necessary in order to make
way for the possibility of a mystical union with God (Haas 1987:
vii–viii). Tauler insisted that it is not by theological abstractions
that one shows one’s devotion to God but instead by the every-
day types of work—farming, shipbuilding, and indeed all types
of hand-work (McGinn 2005: 260, 279, 295; Haas 1987: xii–xiii).
This is why Tauler was referred to as “Lebmeister”—one who is
a “master of living” (McGinn 2005: 240). Instead of counseling
that one should retreat into one’s self, Tauler preached that one
needed to be a productive part of the community. Tauler warned
of the dangers of too much contemplation and extolled the vir-
tues of earthly callings (Gohrs 1907: 455–456). Tauler accepted
that for certain people it would be fine to remain within the walls
of a monastery and contemplate, but he also recognized that his
duty to God meant that he had to go outside of the monastery to
preach to ordinary people (Preger 1893: 229). Accordingly, there
are a least three major ways in which Tauler likely influenced
Luther: (1) the preference of action over contemplation, (2) the
preference of the group over the individual, and (3) the special
mystical union.
There is little question that Tauler had influenced Luther, and
this influence is shown by the rather large number of comments
that Luther had made about Tauler’s sermons (McGinn 2005: x,
287). Haas claimed that it was Tauler’s repeated concern with
“lived experience” that fascinated Luther (Haas 1987: ii). Thus, it
was not Tauler’s mysticism that seemed to appeal to Luther but
70 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

rather his preoccupation with ordinary life. This is one of two

aspects that Weber utilized when he referred to Tauler’s influ-
ence on Luther and it can be seen in Luther’s notion of calling.
In the third section of “Das Problem” of the Protestant Ethic,
Weber explains how Luther developed the notion of “Beruf.”
Weber insists that the notion of “vocation” in its modern sense
is not found originally in the Bible but in Luther’s translation of
it. (Weber 2014: 180–181). Weber points out that Luther employs
“Beruf” to render two rather different concepts. The first is
“klasis” (“κλήσις”) which Weber maintains is the “sense of the
calling to the eternal salvation through God.”13 Weber’s point
is that this use is purely religious. In the second, he uses it to
indicate a change from remaining in one’s calling (“beharre in
deinem Beruf und bleib in deinem Beruf ”) to remain in one’s
work (“bleibe bei deiner Arbeit ”). In the first case, Luther uses
“Beruf” in its traditional, “otherworldly” sense; in the second,
he uses it in “today’s pure worldly sense” (“heutigen rein weltli-
chen Sinn”). This is, so far as Weber knows, the first time that
“Beruf” is used in the modern sense and he attributes its new
use to the Protestants (Weber 2014: 182–183). However, he also
calls attention to Tauler’s translation of “klasis” (“κλήσις”) as
“Beruf” or “Ruf,” that is, “pure worldly work” (“rein weltliche
Arbeit”) (Weber 2014: 184–185, and see 185 n. 37). Weber explic-
itly cites Tauler’s “beautiful sermon on Ephes. 4” (“schönen
Predigt Taulers über Ephes. 4”) (Weber 2014: 184). There, Tauler
discusses not only the different ways in which God calls us, but
that there are three different groups of people who are called.
Weber points to Tauler’s brief mention of those who earn their
bread by hard work outside of the village (Tauler 1913. Band
II: 46). Weber’s point was that although Luther had introduced
the modern notion of work into the term “Beruf,” its origins
are found in Tauler’s claim that both “otherworldly religious”
work and “worldly work” have equal value (Weber 208). This
reference to Tauler was not Weber’s only reference to him, how-
ever, most of the other ones emphasized Tauler’s mystical side
(Weber 2014: 189 n. 58, 194 n. 80, 205, Weber’s note 33; 208,
 ASCETICISM AND MYSTICISM 71

Weber’s note 61 and note 52; 209, Weber’s note 62 and note 54).
Moreover, he pointed out that the German mystics had consid-
erable influence on Luther’s thinking and he specifically noted
that of Tauler (Weber 2014: 186–187, 194, Weber’s note 45). This
is the second aspect of Tauler that Weber seeks to use. For all
three of the German Rhineland mystics, what was important
was to strive for the union with God. That meant passivity and
receptivity, points that Weber will stress later. For now, Weber’s
concern was to show how the “spirit” of capitalism arose and
he believed that it came by overcoming the power of tradition-
alism. That was done by Calvin, and not by Luther. In contrast,
Weber insisted that Luther remained relatively content with his
traditional notion of “Beruf” and that it scarcely needed say-
ing that Luther was far from possessing the “spirit” of capital-
ism (Weber 2014: 196). Indeed, Weber maintained that Luther
not only remained traditional, but that between 1518 and 1530,
he became even more traditional in his theological “Beruf”
(Weber 2014: 201, 203, 206). Moreover, the sense of enjoying
certain aspects of this world is not found in Luther, but makes
its appearance considerably later (Weber 2014: 211). Instead, like
the mystics Luther increasingly believed in the contemplative
acceptance of the spirit of God into the soul and he moved far-
ther away from “ascetic self-discipline” (Weber 2014: 209). While
Weber did not make explicit the contrast between the passive
mystic and the active ascetic in the Protestant Ethic, its origins
can be found in this passage.

Weber’s Formal Contrast between

Asceticism and Mysticism

Section Ten of the “Religiöse Gemeinschaften” part of Wirtschaft

und Gesellschaft is titled “Die Erlösungwege und ihr Einfluß auf
die Lebensführung.” It can be rendered as “The Ways of Salvation
and their Influence on the Conduct of Life.” It is part way through
the section that Weber makes his contrast between asceticism
and mysticism. Weber has concluded his discussion on how in
72 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

certain religions one can “become god” (“Selbstvergottung ”). The

passage is:

Where now an all powerful otherworldly God confronts crea-

tures, the goal of the means of salvation can no longer be in
this sense, but rather the fulfillment of any God’s demanded
religious qualities: they are therefore otherworldly and ethically
oriented, [and] will not be possessed by God—that is not pos-
sible—rather either 1. Be God’s “instrument ” or 2. Be . . . filled
by him.
Wo nun aber ein allmächtiger überweltlicher Gott den Kreaturen
gegenübersteht, da kann Ziel der Heilsmethodik nicht mehr in
diesem Sinn sein, sondern die Erringung der von jedem Gott
geforderten religiösen Qualitaten: sie wird damit jenseitig und
ethische orientiert, will nicht Gott “besitzen”—das kann man
nicht—sondern entweder 1. Gottes “Werkzeug ” oder 2. Von ihm
zuständlich erf üllt sein. (Weber 2001: 314)

Weber acknowledges that the second way is closer than the first
to “becoming God” and he promises that he will explain the dif-
ference later. For now, the difference between them can be set
out by the more active ascetic and the more passive mystic
(Weber 2001: 316). A few pages later, he expands upon this con-
trast. “Either it is a specific gift of the active ethical activity with
the consciousness that God directs this activity: that one is God’s
instrument.” (“Entweder: ist eine spezifische Gabe aktiv ethis-
chen Handelns mit dem Bewußtsein, daß Gott dies Handeln
lenke: daß man Gottes Werkzeug sei.”). Weber offers the “Or:
the specific . . . is not an active quality of activity, thus not the
consciousness of the carrying out of a godly will, but rather the
specific manner of a condition.”) (“Oder: das spezifische Heilsgut
ist nicht eine active Qualität des Handelns, also nicht das
Bewußtsein der Vollstreckung eines göttlichen Wills, sondern
ein Zuständlichkeit spezifische Art.”) (Weber 2001: 323). The
first is ascetic and the second is mystical. Before developing on
the contrast, Weber elaborates on what he means by the notion
of the ascetic by discussing two types of ascetic. For Weber, there
 ASCETICISM AND MYSTICISM 73

are two fundamentally different ways in which the ascetic relates

to the world. In one case, the ascetic “rejects the world”
(“Weltablehnung ”), while in the second case, the ascetic “ flees
the world” (“Weltflucht ”) (Weber 2001: 324). In his article on
“Weltablehnung,” Stefan Breuer noted that it is a key concept in
Weber’s sociology of religion but maintained that Weber was not
precise in its meaning (Breuer 2001: 227). Breuer does not spend
much effort on explaining Weber’s notion, preferring to concen-
trate on the possible historical influences.14 He does, however
make several important points—first, that the actual term
“Weltablehnung” is not found in the Protestant Ethic although
its meaning is there, and second, he provides a brief clarification
of the two types of asceticism.15 One is the traditional Catholic
ascetic who is “außerweltlich” and the other is the more modern
Protestant ascetic who is “innerweltlich” (Breuer 2001: 228). The
first flees the world by going into solitude, while the second
remains in the world with others. The first wishes to overcome
the everyday order by living in the monastery while the second
begins to overcome natural inclinations by learning to master
one’s self (Breuer 2001: 228). Weber wrote about the self-mastery
of the “inner-worldly ascetic” in the Protestant Ethic and it is evi-
dent that he regarded that type of ascetic as important because
he titled the first section of Part Two “The Religious Foundations
of the Innerworldly Ascetics” (“Die religiösen Grundlagen der
innerweltlichen Askese”) (Weber 2014: 242). There he spells out
how the “innerworldly ascetic” strives to “overcome the natural
state” (“Überwindung des status naturalis”) through “self-control”
(“Selbstkontrolle”), “self-dominance” (“Selbstbeherrschung”), and
“self-disciplining” (“Selbstdisziplinierung”) (Weber 2014: 290–
292, 209). Indeed, he refers to “Selbstbeherrschung” as the
“ascetic principle” and labels it the “father of modern military
discipline” (“Vater des modernen militarischen Disziplin”)
(Weber 2014: 201–292, Weber’s note 58). Weber undoubtedly
recognized the importance of asceticism for the modern mili-
tary, but he was not as concerned with its impact on the military
group as he was with the individual. This is a point that Sara
74 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

R. Farris has explored recently in her “Religion as the Source of

the Self: Max Weber’s Hypothesis.” There, she demonstrated the
importance of the individual in all of Weber’s writings on
the sociology of religion but she has shown the particular impor-
tance that it has in his writings on the Old Testament prophets
and on Protestantism. Both are anti-authoritarian and both are
highly individualistic (Farris 2012: 38–39). However, she also
correctly notes that the Jews had the collective hope for salva-
tion, whereas for the Calvinist there was only the isolated indi-
vidual (Farris 2012: 40). Furthermore, Weber’s concern with
asceticism was not so much about the sense of denial as it was
about the sense of self-control. That is why it is important to
focus on several passages in that section on “The Religious
Foundations of the Innerworldly Ascetic.” After quoting from
several sections of Calvin’s Institutes Weber makes a number of
points. First, he emphasizes that Calvin’s concern is with God
and not with humans; God is not there to help people but people
are there to serve God (Weber 2014: 257). Second, God’s decision
to elect only a few to salvation and leave the rest to damnation is
not something that humans are able to comprehend nor are they
in a position to judge. This is not a matter of understanding but
is solely a matter of God’s free will. He stands under no law and
our standards of justice do not apply. Weber suggests that for the
damned to complain that their fate is undeserved would be sim-
ilar to animals complaining that they were not born human.16
Weber emphasizes that Calvin’s God differs from Luther’s; that
the latter’s concept is of “humanly understandable ‘Father in
Heaven’” (“menschlich verständlichen ‘Vater im Himmel’”) who
loves and cares for his children while the former’s is a distant
and angry deity. Instead of being close, there is an “unbridgeable
gap” (“unüberbrückbare Kluft”) that separates humans from
this “Deus absconditus” God (Weber 2014: 256, Weber’s note 9,
258). The Calvinist God’s decree is eternal and unchangeable; it
was set at the beginning of time and is for eternity. One who has
been chosen can never lose that salvation; one who has been
damned can never be saved. We do not know whether we are
 ASCETICISM AND MYSTICISM 75

among the elect or among the damned; we only know that a few
have been chosen and the rest have not (Weber 2014: 258–259).
Weber acknowledges that Calvin’s Doctrine of Predestination is
inhuman and he realizes that it leads to complete inner loneli-
ness. In one of the most moving passages in the Protestant Ethic
Weber writes that “Niemand konnte ihm helfen. Kein
Prediger . . . Kein Sakrament . . . Kein Kirche . . . Endlich auch:—
kein Gott” (“No one could help him. No preacher . . . No
Sacrament . . . No Church . . . Finally also:—no God” (Weber 2014:
260). This doctrine holds that all creatures are unconditionally
removed from God and are completely and utterly worthless,
and any sense of subjective religiousness is a sentimental illu-
sion. It also contains the root of what Weber refers to as the “illu-
sionless and pessimistically colored individualism”
(“ illusionlosen und pessimistisch gef ärbten Individualismus”
(Weber 2014: 261). Weber’s points include the following: tra-
ditional religion, whether it is Roman Catholicism or
Lutheranism, is an illusion because it shares the sentimental
belief that there is a loving and forgiving God. Calvinism instead,
maintains that the individual is cut off from God as well as from
other human beings and as a creature is totally worthless. The
whole point of human existence is to serve for the greater glory
of God. We can never be certain whether we have been selected
to be saved or have been consigned to damnation. The best that
we can hope is that we can detect signs that may suggest that we
are among the elect and the best that we can do is to engage in
tireless work. Work does two things: it increases the glory for
God and suggests that we may be among the elect. It also serves
to underscore the radical difference between Luther’s teachings
and Calvin’s: Luther holds that justification comes through faith
while Calvin believes that justification can never be earned. This
difference is shown in the way in which the faiths differ in “the
highest religious experience” (“Das höchste religiöse Erlebnis”).
For Lutheran piety, it was the “‘Unio mystica’ mit der Gottheit.”
It is the reception of God into the soul, which can be brought
about only by contemplation. However, Weber emphasizes that
76 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

is not an action on the part of the mystic; rather, it is passive, a

feeling of God. It is the “longing for peace in God” (“Sehnsuch
nach Ruhe in Gott”) (Weber 2014: 276–278). Weber emphasizes
that the Reformed doctrine rejected such passivity from the
beginning; it is not how God works in one, but rather how one
works for God (Weber 2014: 279). However, “good works” can
never be a means to salvation because the human being remains
a creature. Nevertheless, working for the greater Glory for God
can be an indication that one might be among the chosen (Weber
2014: 285–286). Weber underscores the difference between the
medieval Catholic and the Calvinist: the former lived “hand to
mouth” and fulfilled his traditional duties. However, the Catholic
normally performed a “planless series of individual actions”
(“planlose Reihe einzelner Handlungen”) (Weber 2014: 287).
Weber then devotes considerable effort in drawing the differ-
ences and noting the similarities between the Catholic type of
asceticism and the Puritan type.
For Weber, what marks the particular difference between the
two is the Puritan’s extreme emphasis on the rationalization of
asceticism. This is the intentional planning for how one is to con-
duct one’s life; it is the calculation of how one is supposed to live.
This is not something that the Puritan did once or on a few occa-
sions; rather, it was one of the most dominating factors in one’s
life. Yet, Weber does suggest that a similar process of rationaliza-
tion occurred during successive stages of Catholicism. In a few
short sentences Weber discusses how this rational ordering of life
is found in the “Rules” of St. Benedict, and then was modified
by the members of the Cluny and Cisterzieran Orders, and then
finally by the Jesuits. Weber also points to St. Francis because he
emphasized the importance of being in the world and he stressed
the meaning of everyday life (Weber 2014: 294). Yet, it was the
Jesuits who brought about the emancipation from the “planless
world-fleeing” (“planloser Weltflucht”) and self-mortification
and replaced it with the “systematic trained method of rational
conduct of life” (“systematisch durchgebildeten Methode ratio-
nale Lebensführung” (Weber 2014: 290). This was intended to
 ASCETICISM AND MYSTICISM 77

overcome the natural human dependency on the world and to

break the power of irrational human drives. In its stead would
be the submission to the “planned will” (“planvollen Wille”) by
which one’s actions would be regulated by the “constant self-
control ” (“beständige Selbst-Kontrolle”) (Weber 2014: 290). This
“unconditioned self-mastery” (“unbedingte Selbstbeherrschung”)
was both the “highest form of the rational monkish virtues in gen-
eral” (“höchste Formen rationale mönchischer Tugenden über-
haupt”) as well as the “decisive practical life-ideal of Puritanism”
(“entscheidendene praktische Lebensideale des Puritanismus”)
(Weber 2014: 291. See also 300). Having established the similari-
ties, Weber moves on to emphasize the differences.
First, the Reformed Church rejected the “double ethics” which
held that there was one type for the general population and
another for the Church hierarchy. With the elimination of this
“consilia evangelica” the way was open for the reformation of the
ascetic to a “pure inner worldly” (“rein inner weltlichen”) asceti-
cism (Weber 2014: 294). It was Calvin who took Luther’s belief
in the importance of work and made it an even more positive
drive. In addition, it was Calvin who replaced Luther’s relatively
mild sense of sin and replaced it with something far more rep-
rehensible. Human beings are not God’s children who occasion-
ally stray because of weakness; they are reprehensible creatures
who deserve to be despised by God (Weber 2014: 297). Finally,
Luther’s piety was based upon a naïve sense of feeling a relaxed
approach to life; in contrast, Calvin’s piety was predicated on a
cold sense of rationality that drove one to relentless action. The
Calvinist ascetic believed that what was most important was the
“systematic, rational form of the entire ethical life” (“system-
atischen, rationale Gestaltung des ethischen Gesamtlebens”)
(Weber 2014: 304). It is this early characterization of the dif-
ferences between Luther and Calvin that contains the basis for
Weber’s later contrast between the active ascetic and the passive
mystic.
In the “Religiöse Gemeinschaften” section of Wirtschaft und
Gesellschaft, Weber points to the mystic’s focus on contemplation.
78 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

The end is the fleeing from the world into God. It is the sense
of “having” and being assured of God’s grace. In contrast, the
ascetic is intent on doing; the ascetic is engaged in ethical action
for God. Thus, the “innerwordly” ascetic does not attempt to
flee the world, but to deny or reject its importance. Weber sug-
gests that despite the attempt to flee the world, the mystic is
actually more dependent on the world. That is because the mys-
tic depends on nature—the forest for nuts and berries, and on
people—for alms (Weber 2014: 327). Even if one allows that the
mystic needs to seek out nourishment, Weber’s main point is
that the mystic is passive and the ascetic is active. The mystic is a
“vessel” (“Gef äß ”) whereas the ascetic is a “tool” (“Werkzeug”).
Weber has maintained this contrast throughout much of this
section; nonetheless, he allows that he has intentionally sharp-
ened the differences between the two and that in reality, the
boundary between them is far more fluid (Weber 2014: 325).
Weber highlighted their differences in order to make them con-
ceptually clearer and, in his personal life, he allowed that they
were also not so far apart.

Weber’s Personal Appraisal of Asceticism

and Mysticism

Weber’s personal appreciation of religious life is often mini-

mized. Scholars tend to cite Weber’s letter to Ferdinand Tönnies
as an indication that Weber rejected religion. This letter seems
to offer some support for this when Weber wrote that he was
“unmusical” in religious matters. However, by placing the claim
in the larger context of the letter and by examining what he wrote
more closely, the support for such an interpretation is consider-
ably weakened. The letter is dated February 19, 1909 and focuses
on the question of scholarly independence and the relationship
between logic and ethics. Traditionally, Catholics have always
placed more emphasis on religious inclination and, as a result,
they have been less interested in actual causal connections. In
 ASCETICISM AND MYSTICISM 79

contrast, many modern Protestant scholars are concerned with

empirical investigations and are more ready to enter into the
contemporary fights about scientific values. Thus, Weber’s letter
has more to do with the struggle between Church authority and
scholarly independence than it does with any revelation about
Weber’s personal relationship to religion. Then there is the pas-
sage in question:

For I am indeed absolutely religiously “unmusical” and have nei-

ther the desire nor the capacity to erect any such soul “construc-
tion” of a religious character in me—that is simply not possible,
for I reject that. However, upon closer examination, I find that I
am neither anti-religious nor irreligious.
Denn ich bin zwar religiös absolute “unmusikalisch” und
habe weder Bedürfnis noch Fä higkeit irgendwelche seelisch
“Bauwerke” religiösen Charakters in mich zu errichten—das geht
einfach nicht, resp. ich lehne es ab. Aber, ich bin, nach genauer
Prüfung, weder antireligiös noch irreligiös. (Weber 1994: 65)

Weber said that he lacked the innate desire to be religiously

inclined and that he had neither the interest nor the capacity
to build a religious inclination. However, he adds that he is not
against religion, nor totally lacking religious sentiments. Peter
Ghosh is correct to note that this leaves open the distinct prob-
ability that Weber was religiously inclined, but he is incorrect to
maintain that Weber was actually quite religious (Ghosh 2014:
218–223). Weber was never inclined to participate in religious
activities, but he was always ready to observe them. Religion was
more of a significant manifestation of cultural values than it was
reflective of personal values. However, there is much to suggest
that Weber was personally drawn to asceticism.
Weber was a scholar almost his entire life, but there is little
that indicates that he was ever drawn to pure contemplation.
Instead, he seemed drawn to the life of sober activity and work.
Accordingly, the notion of asceticism as one of self-control and
self-restraint is one that would naturally be appealing to Max
80 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

Weber, if for no other reason than it embodies much of the self-

restraint that the Prussian Junker traditionally exhibited. Weber
recognized that the Junkers no longer enjoyed the reputation
that they once had and he realized that many Germans disliked
them. In his Inaugural Lecture at Freiburg Weber said: “I know
well that the name of the Junker sounds unfriendly to the ears
of the South German.” And he even allows that “one may find
that I speak a ‘Prussian’ language when I say a word in their sup-
port. I do not know.”17 Weber himself had mixed feeling about
the Junkers; while they were progressive in their rationality, they
were too tradition bound (Pühle 1980: 17). Yet, as Cornelius
Torp suggested, the Junker ran through Weber’s life as a red
thread (Torp 1998: 7). Torp concentrated primarily on Weber’s
criticisms of the Junkers’ political and economic situations, but
it was the personal qualities that Junkers had that appealed to
Weber—the sense of honor, the belief in duty, and most of all,
the notion of self-restraint. To put it into other words, the notion
of asceticism.
Weber’s own ascetic inclinations and interest in rationalism
might suggest that he would be indifferent if not be resistant to
mysticism. However, Weber recognized that mysticism was a
widespread and powerful attraction and it appears that, in later
life, he even felt it himself. In his 1964 book on Weber, Eduard
Baumgarten recounted the story that Marianne told him some-
time around 1919 or 1920. She told him that before retiring for
the night she and Max would often sit quietly together in the
salon. On one occasion, Weber broke the silence by asking:

Tell me, can you picture yourself to be a mystic?

That would certainly be the last thing that I could think about
myself. Could you imagine that for yourself ?
It could even be that I am one. How much more in my life have I
“dreamt” than one ought to actually allow oneself, thus I never
feel entirely dependably at home anywhere. It is as if I could (and
want) just as well to withdraw myself entirely from everything.
 ASCETICISM AND MYSTICISM 81

Sag mal, kannst Du Dir vorstellen, Du seist ein Mystiker?

Das ware gewiß das Leztze, was ich mir denken könnte. Kannst
Du es den etwa f ür Dich dir vorstellen?
Es könnte sogar sein, daß ich einer bin. Wie ich mehr in meinem
Leben “geträumt” habe als man sich eigentlich erlauben darf, so
bin auch nirgends ganz verläßlich daheim. Es ist, als könnte (und
wollte) ich mich aus allem ebensowohl auch ganz zurückziehen.
Baumgarten. (1964: 677)

This does not mean that Weber was a mystic, but it does mean
that that he had occasionally thought about being a mystic.18
Perhaps more importantly, it means that Weber had a better
appreciation of mysticism than is commonly thought, and that
his understanding of mysticism matched his comprehension of
asceticism.
 5

Prophets and Pariah-People

U nlike many of the dual concepts treated in this book, the

concepts of prophets and pariah-people are naturally
linked. That is because Weber’s interest is almost exclusively in
the Old Testament Prophets and his concern with pariah-peo-
ple was mostly limited to the Jews. What also drew his attention
was the two groups’ reputations as outsiders, and their political,
economic, and religious struggles. Although a few scholars have
suggested that Weber was racist and an anti-Semite, his schol-
arly interest and his personal concerns should be sufficient to
show that these claims are unwarranted.

Prophets

Max Weber’s interest in Judaism was rather extensive, and it

was manifested over a period of time in a significant number of
writings. Weber’s interest in Judaism was shown in some early
writings, but especially in a later edition of his Agrarverhältniss.
However, this interest appeared to grow more in the last
decade of his life and it is revealed mostly in his later writ-
ings. These works include not just the sections of Wirtschaft
und Gesellschaft dealing with the Old Testament Prophets and
the concept of pariah, but also in Das antike Judentum and the
Wirtschaftsgeschichte. Weber’s concern with the Jewish peo-
ple is important for many reasons, because it is here that he
84 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

demonstrates the charismatic intersection between religion and

politics, and it is here that he shows how the Jews could not have
been responsible for the development of capitalism. Finally, it is
here that Weber sets out his notion of the “pariah-people.” In
Weber’s discussions of Judaism, there are two notions in par-
ticular that warrant examination: First, there is the notion of
the prophets; a topic that has not generated much interest, yet
it is important to his understanding of charisma. Second, there
is the notion of the pariah-people, which occupies a particular
place in his sociology of religion and is one of the most disputed
topics of his general sociology.
Weber devotes a lengthy section to the concept of the
prophet in the “Religiöse Gemeinschaft” part of Wirtschaft und
Gesellschaft.1 Prophets are actual people and not abstract con-
cepts, so Weber indicates his novel approach to them as concepts
by placing the term in quotations (“Prophet”) and by asking
the definitional question “What is, sociologically speaking, a
prophet?” (“Was ist, soziologisch gesprochen, ein Prophet?”)
(Weber 2001: 177). He then immediately indicates what a prophet
is not, that is, he is not a “bringer of salvation” (“Heilbringer”).
He is not a “Heilbringer” because not every anthropomor-
phic god brings salvation. Instead, Weber defines a “prophet”
as someone who is a “pure personal carrier of charisma, whose
power of his mission is announced by a religious teaching or a
divine command.”2 Weber also indicates that he is not interested
in the question of whether this is an old revelation made new
or a completely new one, that is, the difference between a “reli-
gious renewer” (“Religionserneuerer”) and a “religious founder”
(“Religionsstifter”) (Weber 2001: 177). Weber is not interested
in this distinction because it is hard to differentiate, because it
is blurred, and because it is not very important. What is impor-
tant for Weber is his distinction between the two types of proph-
ecy. This is the distinction that Weber makes between what he
calls the “exemplary prophecy” (“Exemplarische Prophetie”)
and the “ethical prophecy” (“Ethische Prophetie”). Weber first
offers only a preliminary sketch and postpones providing a more
 PROPHETS AND PARIAH-PEOPLE 85

detailed account of the two types until later. The first type of
prophecy is based upon a personal example while the second
type is founded upon a teaching. Weber offers Zarathustra,
Jesus, and Mohammed as examples of the exemplary prophet
because the followers are drawn by the person, and he suggests
that the Buddha and the Israeli prophets are examples of the
ethical prophet because the followers are drawn because of the
teachings.3 This type of teaching is not an abstract one but is
a “personal” one. The Jewish priests provided an abstract doc-
trine while the prophets offered a personal message that was
connected to his personal “calling.”4 Weber notes that it is no
accident that no prophet came out of the class of priests, because
the priest was always in the service of the holy tradition whereas
the prophet stood outside of it (Weber 2001: 178). Riesebrodt
emphasizes the almost complete independence of the prophet.5
The prophet is not dependent on any group, any tradition, or any
convention. This is what makes the prophet such a potentially
revolutionary leader (Riesebrodt 2001: 198). As indicated later
in chapter 7, prophets have the divine gift of charisma. Thus, the
priest derives his legitimacy through his office, but the prophet
derives it from his divine task. This emphasis on charisma makes
the prophet similar to the magician, but Weber clarifies that the
difference between the prophet and the magician lies in the fact
that the former has a divinely given doctrine or command while
the latter is frequently someone who tries to influence the god
through magic. In addition, the magician consults an oracle or
interprets a dream, but the prophet is chosen by God (Weber
2001: 178–179). Having said what a prophet is not and what a
prophet is, Weber turns to discussing various specific prophets.
Weber mentions prophets from different places and different
times, but his primary focus is on the Israeli prophets. He spe-
cifically mentions the Old Testament Prophets on almost every
page (Weber 2001: 179, 180, 181, 182, 183, 184, 188, 192, 193).
There are three particular Old Testament Prophets who play
prominent roles in Weber’s account of prophets: Amos, Jeremiah,
and Isaiah. These three are important to Weber for a number of
86 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

reasons. First, they held convictions that helped determine their

conduct, they were charismatic, and they were leaders in both
the religious and political senses. Finally, each of them seemed to
appeal to Weber for personal reasons, and this seemed especially
the case regarding Isaiah.
Amos was the earliest of these three Old Testament Prophets
and, by many accounts, he was one of the reluctant ones. He
had chosen to live a rather simple life but God “called” him and
instructed him to prophesize. Amos obeyed but insisted that he
should not be regarded as a regular prophet. He also insisted
that he did not belong to any prophetic community and that he
was not a learned person. However, Amos followed his instruc-
tions because God was angry with his “chosen people”—they
had turned away from God and had begun to worship a false
deity. Furthermore, they rejected the old values and were living
immoral and unjust lives. The community was broken; the rich
became richer and often at the expense of the poor. The latter
were forced by buy goods at inflated prices, thus perpetuating
the widening gap between the rich and the poor. Amos was com-
manded to speak against these things and especially to talk about
justice and the penalties for failing to be just (Baentsch 1908:
438). Amos made it clear that while he agreed with these things,
these were God’s notions. In fact, he did not claim to speak for
God, but rather, that God spoke through him. Moreover, he
spoke as a clearheaded person and he had no hallucinations; he
did not speak in any mystical language or in some sort of poetic
verse. Instead, Amos spoke clearly and directly to the people
about the consequences of turning away from God and living a
life of debauchery.
Jeremiah was similar in many ways to Amos. Like Amos, he
was reluctant to be considered a prophet and initially resisted
because he believed that he was too young. Like Amos, Jeremiah
recognized the moral failings of his people and that they had
turned against God. However, unlike like Amos, Jeremiah seemed
to care less about the community and tended to focus more on
individuals. He supposedly wandered the streets interrogating
 PROPHETS AND PARIAH-PEOPLE 87

people in the hope of finding a good person, but he was always

disappointed. And unlike Amos who was born to a family of
shepherds, Jeremiah came from a family of priests. Nevertheless,
like Amos, Jeremiah followed his calling from God and not from
his family.6
Isaiah came from a noble family and it was expected that he
would use some of his standing to fight against wrongs; however,
he willingly followed God’s command to become a prophet and
to warn of the coming collapse. Like Amos and Jeremiah, Isaiah
was convinced that the people had brought on the coming disas-
ter themselves because they had turned away from God. Isaiah
railed against them for willful rejection of their covenant with
God and he condemned them for their incredible arrogance.
Each of these three Old Testament Prophets was motivated by
their understanding of the Covenant with God and their belief
in the necessity of living a morally good life. They were adamant
in their convictions and they tried to live by them. Partially as a
result, these prophets looked down at some others because they
had no convictions and wanted immoral pleasures. Because of
their convictions and their prophecies, they were regarded as
“outsiders.” They were despised by the rulers and ignored by
much of the general population, but they did attract a number of
followers. Weber attributed much of this power of attraction to
their charisma, and indeed, these prophets tended to possess the
main characteristics that other charismatic leaders possessed.7
First, is the characteristic that the prophets came during times
of political, social, economic, and religious upheavals (Weber
2005a: 461). During the lives of the Old Testament Prophets,
there were massive problems with religious and moral matters
as well as significant difficulties with economic and political
issues. It seemed that only charismatic leaders could solve all of
the problems. The charismatic leaders could be military leaders,
leaders of great hunting expeditions, physicians, or even judges.
However, Weber also specifically includes prophets (Weber
2005a: 462). Second, the charismatic leaders were personally
called and regarded their mission as personal (Weber 2005a:
88 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

465–469; see also Weber 2005b: 608 n. 2). Finally, the prophet
was regarded as “revolutionary”; rather than being part of the
political elite, the prophet was the political outsider. Bernhard
Lang noted that the priest is not only part of the political and
religious elite, but that he stands as the official representative
of that elite.8 As such, the priest exerts considerable influence
throughout the community (Lang 2001: 176–177). The priest is
able to do this by various means, and one of them is by the devel-
opment and the maintaining of a doctrine or teaching. Thus,
while both types of prophet are outsiders, the “ethical prophet”
may very well have an ethical doctrine or moral teaching. In con-
trast, the “exemplary prophet” is not just an outsider, but differs
from the priest in that he lacks a doctrine and even rejects the
need for one. The “exemplary prophet” leads by the authority of
the charisma that has been given to him. In the cases of the Old
Testament Prophets, they were called to give voice to God’s dis-
pleasure and even wrath, and were considered examples because
of how they chose to live their lives in accordance with God’s
Covenant. Thus, the Old Testament Prophets were revolutionar-
ies, they spoke the truth to power, and they personally lived the
type of lives that they advocated. This was true regarding almost
all of the Old Testament Prophets, but it was especially true
about Amos, Jeremiah, and Isaiah.
Each of these three Old Testament Prophets has characteris-
tics that would appeal to Weber. All of them warned against com-
placency and objected to immoral living. But, Amos had a deep
sense of justice; and he believed that “to whom much is given,
much is expected” (Cornhill 1894: 44). Marianne believed that
it was Jeremiah who drew much of Weber’s personal attention
and she noted that it was Jeremiah’s “burning passion” (“glüh-
ende Leidenschaft”) that attracted him so much.9 Marianne
also suggested that while Weber had been interested in the Old
Testament Prophets earlier in his life, it was at the end of the war
that he became personally interested in them (Weber 1926: 604–
605). This, however, suggests that it might not have been either
Amos or Jeremiah who personally affected Weber the most, but
 PROPHETS AND PARIAH-PEOPLE 89

it was Isaiah. To show this requires a brief recounting of Weber’s

interest in ancient Judaism.
Weber had been reading about ancient Judaism prior to
1908, but he began an intensive study in 1908. Much of this
had to do with Weber’s revision and expansion of his arti-
cle “Agrarverhältnisse im Altertum” for the third edition of
the Handwörterbuch der Staatswissenschaften (Otto 2002:
3–8). After finishing his studies of Confucianism, Taoism,
Hinduism, and Buddhism Weber turned his attention back to
the ancient Jews. Das antike Judentum appeared in the Archiv für
Sozialwissenschaft und Sozialpolitk in successive volumes span-
ning the years from 1917 until 1919. Thus, his work on ancient
Judaism coincided with the last years of the war and the revo-
lutionary aftermath. We know from various sources how angry
Weber was with the German political leadership and how frus-
trated he was with Germany’s military command. It is helpful
to keep this time frame in mind when thinking about Weber’s
other writings of this time, and especially with regard to his
two “Vocation” speeches. It is helpful because it helps to clarify
some of Weber’s somewhat cryptic remarks that come at the end
of those speeches. At the conclusion of Wissenschaft als Beruf
Weber speaks harshly of the “Kathederpropheten” because they
were misleading the Germans. They were the modern equiva-
lent of the Old Jewish “lying prophets” because they did not tell
the truth about Germany and its future. Instead, Weber quotes
from one of the “true prophets”—Isaiah. The passage is difficult
to translate; a likely rendering of it is: “From Seir in Edom comes
a call: Watchman, how much longer is the night? The watch-
man speaks: It comes in the morning, but it is still night. If you
want to ask, come again another time.”10 Duhm suggested that
the ending of night and the coming of dawn signified the end of
the oppression and hunger that had plagued Edom and would
announce the beginning of freedom and happiness. However,
the repetition of the question indicates a sense of urgency, and
the watchman’s reply that the questioner could return to ask
again suggests that he had no definitive answer to give (Duhm
90 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

1902: 126). Duhm’s comments were about a certain biblical pas-

sage about a particular time, but Weber uses the same passage to
comment on both the history of the Jews and about Germany’s
future. Weber knew that the Jews had waited for more than two
thousand years, but what he could not know was how much
more suffering would be inflicted on them in just over a decade.
He surmised that Germany’s near future was not going to be
rosy, but he suggested that he and his listeners meet again in ten
years to see how things have developed.11 It should be evident
that Weber had great respect for the Old Testament Prophets,
but he apparently lacked their faith in God. Weber believed
instead that people could not simply wait, but needed to seek
their own future. This applied to people as well as to nations,
but the nation needed courageous, if not heroic, leaders. Weber
was never convinced that he could be one, but he knew the traits
that they needed. Weber seemed to have regarded the prophets
as kindred spirits; Marianne suggested that he saw his own des-
tiny as a reflection of them (Weber 1926: 604–605, 2005b: 121;
Otto 2002: 59–60). He shared their passion for convictions, he
admired their adherence to principles, and he saw himself like
them because of the need to tell people uncomfortable truths
and to point out the dangers to them if they did not change
their ways. Weber personally recognized the importance of the
Old Testament Prophets and he understood that they could be
regarded as examples for the modern political leader (see Adair-
Toteff 2014a: 14).

Pariah-People

At first glance, there may not seem to be much to link the Old
Testament Prophets to Weber’s concept of the “Pariavolk”
(“pariah-people”). However, there are at least two reasons to link
them. First, both groups are regarded by the dominant culture
to be outcasts and outsiders.12 Second, and more importantly,
Weber himself suggests that a number of the Old Testament
Prophets were despised and ridiculed as being outsiders. That
 PROPHETS AND PARIAH-PEOPLE 91

is because they were regarded as political demagogues who

spoke.13 They spoke in the open, in the open areas and espe-
cially in the streets and alleys. It did not seem to matter whether
the political elite were fearful of these political prophets or sim-
ply angry, those who held power responded forcefully and neg-
atively. Weber wrote about how the Old Testament Prophets
were ridiculed, debased, and even threatened (Weber 2005b:
610–615, 618).
Weber’s concept of the “pariah-people” has probably been
the subject of more criticism and has been the source of more
misunderstandings than most of his other concepts (Love 2000:
210–211; Barbalet 2008: 188; Abraham 1992: 8–20; Liebeschutz
1967: 303). In the earliest review of Weber’s Antike Judentum
Julius Guttmann claimed that Weber believed that the main
problem was the development of the Jews as a pariah people
(Guttman 1980: 291). Despite the importance that Weber gave
to the notion of “pariah,” scholars are uncertain what it is and
have questions about what it means. Is it a regular concept or is
it something different—like an ideal type? (Raphaël 1980: 228–
229). Did Weber employ it in a value-neutral way, as he insisted,
or did he continue to use this as a derogatory term as many peo-
ple had previously done? (Schäfer-Lichtenberger 1991: 111–112).
Even the number of ways in which Weber uses the term is sub-
ject to some dispute. Richard Swedberg has two entries: “pariah
capitalism” and “pariah people,” while Wolfgang Schluchter has
three: “pariah people, pariah intellectualism, and pariah religios-
ity” (Swedberg 2005: 193–194; Schluchter 1980: 164; Cahnmann
1974: 167). Given the amount of misunderstanding and the heated
criticisms, it is very important to bear in mind Karl Jaspers’
words—that in his writings on the sociology of religion, Max
Weber adhered to a strict demarcation between “scholarly obser-
vation” (“wissenschaftlicher Betrachtung”) and “world-viewing
judgments” (“weltanschaulicher Wertung”).14 When Weber dis-
cusses the various forms of pariah, he does so in a non-judgmen-
tal way, because his interest is not in values but in scholarship.
Keeping Jasper’s words in mind will minimize, if not forestall,
92 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

any eagerness to accuse Weber of using the notion of pariah as

a slight and of being an anti-Semite, as Gary A. Abraham did
(Abraham 1992: 7–8, 282). The concern here is not to address the
claims regarding Weber’s alleged racism, but rather, to provide
a scholarly overview of the various ways in which Weber uses
the concept of pariah. Weber’s notion of the pariah and his use
of it are not minor issues, but are of paramount importance.15
Given the importance of the term pariah, it is unfortunate that
some scholars appear to concentrate on what they take to be the
sources of Weber’s notion of pariah rather on the notion itself.
Some of these scholars note the importance of resentment and
so they are naturally inclined to think about Nietzsche. That is
why Klaus Lichtblau spends so much time on Nietzsche in his
“Ressentiment, negative Privilegierung, Praxis.”16
Weber’s notion of pariah-people is now typically associated
with the Jews, but an examination of Weber’s writings show
that its origin resides with his discussion of many other groups
but primarily with the Indians (Schmuhl 1991: 340; Otto 2002:
47–48, 50, Weber 2005b: 66–67). Indeed, Weber begins Das antike
Judentum by noting that the term “pariah-people” is based upon
his understanding of India.17 However, Weber spends the most
amount of time on the Jews as the pariah-people.18 Otto provides
a concise history of the connection between pariah-people and
the Jews in his Max Webers Studien des Antiken Judentums (and
he provides a short history of its use up to Weber’s time in his
introduction to Das antike Judentum (Otto 2002: 51–53; Weber
2005b: 68–69). Weber’s concept is not an empirical historical
concept, but rather is an ideal type, one that Weber consistently
used throughout his writings on the notion of pariah (Schäfer-
Litchenberger 1991: 86, 93). The concept of the “pariah-people”
is not specifically found in the Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of
Capitalism but surfaces in later works.19 What is in the Protestant
Ethic is Weber’s demonstration of the affinity between Jews and
Puritans and by extension to capitalism. Peter Ghosh notes
that Weber was “deeply interested in Judaism” and accordingly
devotes an entire chapter to the affinity between Judaism and
 PROPHETS AND PARIAH-PEOPLE 93

Puritanism (Ghosh 2008: 122, 144, 149, 156, 160–161). Ghosh

argues several points convincingly: that Weber was always per-
sonally interested in Judaism, that he believed that Judaism was
ethically equal, if not superior to, Christianity, and that the
affinity between Judaism and Puritanism was primarily a legal
one (Ghosh 2008: 122, 128, 161). Ghosh draws attention to one
of “those little essays masquerading as footnotes” (Ghosh 2008:
119). In this note Weber stresses the shared importance of eth-
ical commands by both the Jews in the Old Testament and the
Puritans and he suggests that both peoples regarded themselves
as the “chosen people” (Weber 1905: 91 n. 49). Weber’s point in
the Protestant Ethic was to show the connection between the
Puritan ethics and the development of capitalism and as a minor
point to note the similarity between the Puritans and the Jews.
The notion of pariah capitalism is found in Weber’s later work
on ancient Judaism and again in the lecture course on economic
history that he gave at Munich in 1919. The concept under-
goes changes as Weber concentrated his efforts to understand
the early Jewish religion and in reaction to Werner Sombart’s
Die Juden und Wirtschaftsleben. Sombart wrote this work as a
response to Weber’s Protestantism thesis (Sombart 1911: 292).
It was, however, a rather delayed response because Sombart did
not provide it until 1911 in the publication of his Die Juden und
Wirtschaftsleben. Sombart’s point was that Weber was wrong
about the Puritans and capitalism, but was right about the sim-
ilarity between the Puritans and the Jews. In fact, Sombart
insisted that despite the similarity it was not the Puritans but
the Jews who were responsible for the rise of modern capital-
ism (Sombart 1911: vii, x, xiii). Sombart provided a number of
reasons for this: that the Jewish people were dispersed through-
out the world, and as a result, they were able to communicate
in many different languages (Sombart 1911: 201–205, 298–299).
Because of these two factors, the Jews became wealthy through
trade, and having accumulated wealth, they were then able to
engage in lending money (Sombart 1911: 221–224). Furthermore,
because of the “legal” basis of their “contract” with Jahveh, they
94 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

had the expertise necessary to make business contracts (Sombart

1911: 261, 266). Finally, the Jews were rational, both in theory
and in practice (Sombart 1911: 316–319). Sombart concludes that
there is an overlap of the same traits between the Jews and capi-
talism (Sombart 1911: 328–331).
There is little doubt that there was a continual exchange of
ideas between Weber and Sombart and there is little question
that both thinkers were convinced that each of them was right.
However, Sombart’s claim to scholarly analysis is suspect and
his methodology is dubious. It is no wonder that Weber spent
considerable effort in showing how Sombart was wrong about
the origins of modern capitalism in general and the role of the
Jews in particular.20
In Das antike Judentum Weber asked how it was that the
Jews developed as a pariah-people and he traces it back to their
two different types of moralities. This is the dualism between
“inner” and “outer” moralities (Weber 2005b: 244, 700). It is,
however, in the section on “Religiöse Gemeinschaften” that
Weber refers to this as a “double morality” (“doppelte Moral”)
and it is there that he explains it. The Jewish law prohibited loan-
ing money to other Jews but allowed that one could loan money
to people outside of the faith (Weber 2001: 420). However, this
type of loaning was rather precarious; it lacked the legal foun-
dation of the state. This was not an insignificant morality and
it did not have minor economic repercussions. Rather, it was a
major part of the Jewish tradition and it had far-reaching effects
(Weber 2005b: 701). Specifically, it blocked the possible forma-
tion of the formally legal foundation necessary for the “rational
acquisition economy” (“rationale Erwerbswirtschaft”) (Weber
2005b: 701, 703). Lacking this important feature, the Jews could
never have been able to help develop modern capitalism whereas
having it, the Puritans could, and, did (Weber 2005b: 701–702).
In addition, the Jews did not introduce the exchange, but it was
the Christians who did. Finally, the Jews lacked the interest to
develop the organization that was necessary for the economic
work found in factories. Thus, Sombart may have written a
 PROPHETS AND PARIAH-PEOPLE 95

brilliant book but his claim that the Jews were responsible for the
development of modern capitalism was fundamentally wrong
(Weber 2001: 418–419).
Weber’s final response to Sombart is contained in the clos-
ing lectures on economic history. In the Abriß der universalen
Sozial- und Wirtschaftsgeschichte Weber directly takes issue
with Sombart’s claim that the Jews were responsible for the rise
of Western capitalism. Weber grants that there are certain simi-
larities between the Puritans and the Jews, notably the emphasis
on laws and moral obligations. He also maintains that the Jews
were extremely helpful in the rise of western rationality with
their rejection of magic. However, he insists that the notion of
the Jewish factory owner is a modern one and that what the Jews
had was not rational capitalism but pariah capitalism. That was
because the Jews were a pariah or a guest people (“Pariahvolk,”
“Gastvolk”) (Weber 2011: 387–388). To understand Weber’s
notion of the Jewish pariah capitalism one needs to understand
his notion of the Jews as a pariah people, and that means look-
ing at both Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft as well as Das antike
Judentum. Nevertheless, before turning to those works, it is nec-
essary to turn to his writings on Hinduism, because it is there
that Weber introduces his notion of pariah.
In the opening pages of the Wirtschaftsethik der Weltreligionen
devoted to Hinduism, Weber claims that, like China, India is
an immense country, but unlike China, it is more rural and has
an unchangeable familial caste system (Weber 1996: 49, 56–57).
Within this system, there is what Weber refers to as a “guest-peo-
ple” (“Gastvolk”). In India, there are a number of variations of this;
in contrast, there are only the Gypsies in Europe (Weber 1996: 62).
Weber lists them, along with the Jews of the Middle Ages, and
certain Indian “Gastvölker” as “Pariahvolk,” and he allows that
he is using this term to designate a specific people—those who
are not just “strangers” but who are ritually excluded from certain
groups and certain experiences. Accordingly, the “Pariahvolk”
are denied entrance to Hindu temples and stand outside Hindu
culture (Weber 1996: 63–65). The main point to take away from
96 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

this is that Weber believed that both the Hindu “Gastvolk” and
the Jews were “strangers,” that they were regarded as different and
alien (Fleischmann 1980: 265–266). However, in his introduction
to Weber’s Antike Judentum, Eckart Otto insisted that Weber’s
definition of pariah can apply only to the Jews and for two rea-
sons. First, Weber restricts “pariah” more to those who are ritu-
ally excluded and second, that he limits it more to the city (Weber
2005b: 67–68). Otto clarifies that Weber was not the first to apply
the pariah concept to the Jews, among his predecessors was Weber’s
friend and colleague Georg Simmel (Weber 2005b: 70). And, it
was Simmel who best described what the “stranger” was. In the
section of Soziologie Simmel discusses how the “stranger” used to
be regarded as a wanderer, someone who came and went, who was
here today and gone tomorrow. However, the notion of “stranger
has been transformed to mean someone who is present but is rad-
ically different.” Simmel’s “classical example” is the European Jew
(Simmel 1908: 686). Simmel chose the European Jew because he
represented the fundamental traits of the “stranger”—he was both
close yet distant; familiar yet different (Simmel 1908: 689–691).
Weber also believed that the “Pariahvölker” were members of a
lower class who were looked down upon because they were also
regarded as being unclean (Cahnmann 1974: 169). These will be
characteristics that Weber will use to describe pariah peoples.
In the section of Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft devoted to reli-
gious communities, Weber again notes that there are two dif-
ferent pariah peoples: the lower caste of India and the Jewish
people from the time of the Temple destruction of 70 ad. What
is of interest here is Weber’s discussion of the Jews as a pariah
people and he explains it by a comparison with the (positively)
privileged classes. Members of the privileged classes are seen
as benefiting from the gods or God; they have health, wealth,
and happiness. In contrast, the negatively privileged classes are
regarded as somehow deserving the indifference or even wrath
of the divinities. As a result, the people suffer from sickness and
poverty and they have no chance of happiness. Their specific
need is salvation from suffering (Weber 2001: 253–255). For the
 PROPHETS AND PARIAH-PEOPLE 97

Jews, the only means for the reduction of the suffering and the
only hope for salvation was atonement for breaking the Covenant
with God. It meant that they had to trust in God, and the two
major virtues were obedience (“Gehorsamkeit”) and humility
(“Demut”) (Liebeschutz 1967: 306). For the most part, the Jews
believed that they were different from other people; they were
the “chosen people.” Weber emphasizes the “people”; it was not
a question of a single individual, but rather, a collective. Despite
the shared belief in the angry God, the early Protestants believed
that they were doomed as individuals, while the Jews believed in
a common fate (Weber 2001: 259–261). That this is not exactly
correct is revealed by Weber’s own comments about the Old
Testament Prophets. While they will be discussed in the chapter
on prophets and priests, a few words need to be said about them
here because the prophets are foretelling the terrible future that
will befall the Jews because they are impure and they have bro-
ken the Covenant that they had with God.
Weber was interested in most of the Old Testament Prophets
because they were such ethical individuals. Weber contended
that they regarded Jaweh primarily as an ethical God and so
they regarded themselves as ethical representatives (Weber
2005b: 629, 645). They were not especially inclined to politics; if
anything, their deep ethical beliefs prevented them from being
political. They became political only as a result of their ethical
positions, that is, they became convinced that they were duty-
bound to do so (Weber 2005b: 628, 650, 673).
To conclude with a few comments on Weber’s views of Judaism,
Raphaël contended that Weber regarded the Old Testament
Prophets as the spiritual forbearers of the early Protestants and
Liebeschutz noted that Weber had a strong, personal affinity
for the Old Testament Prophets (Raphaël 1980: 271; Liebeschutz
1967: 333). One can conclude that Weber was not an anti-Semite
and he did not intend to use the term “pariah-people” as a derog-
atory term. Instead, he wished to explain what a “pariah-people”
was and he used the history of the Jews in order to provide an
ideal-typical account of “pariah-people.”
98 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

Appendix: Weber and Racism

There is little doubt that by today’s standards, Weber’s politi-

cal thinking is somewhat nationalistic and his reflections on
gender are rather dated. There is, however, not much ques-
tion about Weber’s views on race. In reflecting on his early
Inaugural Lecture, he suggested that some of his comments on
race were somewhat immature and, as a result, he disavowed
them. However, his mature thoughts on race suffer from no such
immaturity. Weber thought that racial differences were a par-
ticularly important topic for scholarly investigation and he was
personally opposed to the traditional racism that appeared in
German society. He objected to the discrimination against the
Jews in Europe and he complained about the plight of the Blacks
in America. However, there have been a few individuals who have
accused Weber of being an anti-Semite and anti-Black. Gary A.
Abraham had insisted that Weber was a racist, mostly against
the Jews, while Andrew Zimmerman charged that Weber was a
racist primarily against the Poles and the Blacks. A complete ref-
utation of these charges would require far more than that which
can be presented here; nonetheless, I would be remiss if I did not
at least address these charges in this account of prophets and
pariah-people. The older and the more relevant charge is that
Weber was racist and anti-Semitic.
Gary A. Abraham leveled his charges of racism in a very
lengthy article and again in a book. The article is titled “Max
Weber: Modernist Anti-Pluralism and the Polish Question”
and Abraham has made a larger claim which is based upon
Weber’s discussions of the Polish question. This larger claim is
that Weber, in his concern to protect German culture, was an
anti-pluralist (Abraham 1991: 35–36, 65–66). By that, Abraham
evidently meant that Weber was against almost all foreign cul-
tures and to back up his assertion he claimed that Weber was
hostile to Catholics, Poles, and after 1911, Jews (Abraham 1991:
35). In this article, Abraham focuses primarily on Weber’s anti-
Polish speeches and actions. However, Abraham’s account is
 PROPHETS AND PARIAH-PEOPLE 99

problematic for a number of reasons. First, he seems not to have

looked at Weber’s own writings and admits that he has “relied
mainly” on Arthur Mitzman and Mommsen. But, Mitzman’s
The Iron Cage is not an “historical interpretation of Max Weber,”
as the subtitle promises, but rather, a psychological one. In
accordance with this focus, Mitzman is not so much interested
in Weber’s writings on the “Polish Question” as he is in Weber’s
relationships with his father, with Emily Baumgarten, and
Marianne during this period (Mitzman 1970: 85–94, 103–104,
107–119). Mommsen, on the other hand, is preoccupied with
Weber’s political outlook, but his intention was to show that the
postwar idea that Weber was some kind of Western liberal was
an illusion and that he was a strong nationalist (Mommsen 1984:
xviii–xx). Mommsen’s book provoked considerable controversy,
but his basic tenet was, and is, justified (Mommsen 1984: xi).
Unfortunately, Abraham uses Mommsen’s interpretation only
when it helps to prove his point. When there is a discrepancy,
Abraham thinks that Mommsen is probably blind to the prob-
lem. This occurs in at least two instances: where Weber does not
talk about the Jews and where Weber changes his mind about the
Poles (Abraham 1991: 57). Second, Abraham misunderstands
both the “Antisemitismusstreit” and the “Kulturkampf,” and
he misinterprets Weber’s relation to von Treitschke (Abraham
1991: 35–37, 41, 49–51, 55–59). To argue these points is beyond
the scope of this book. This brings me to the third problem—
that Abraham seems not to understand the nature of the “Polish
Question.” Abraham does not call it the “Polish Question”;
instead, he calls it the “Polish Problem.” He reveals his misun-
derstanding of it when he writes that it was “the displacement
of both Junkers and the German peasantry east of the Elbe by
ethnic Poles” (Abraham 1991: 33). However, the Polish Question
concerned what to do about the land-owning Junkers who were
importing cheap foreign labor. By importing cheap labor, they
threatened not only the economic situation in the East, but
the security of all of Germany. As to being a racist, Abraham
admits that the Polish problem was not racial but “ethnic,” and
100 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

that Weber objected to anti-Semitism (Abraham 1991: 33, 37,

46). However, Abraham is correct to claim that Weber was not a
“multi-culturalist”—even if he misunderstands what prompted
Weber to be one.
Like his article, Gary Abraham’s book Max Weber and the
Jewish Question is devoted to showing that Max Weber was not
a “pluralist,” and he employs many of the same arguments that
he did in the article. However, here, his discussions of these
issues are more extensive and better sourced than the article.
However, Abraham is also more convinced that Weber’s neg-
ative views on the “Jewish question” are not just a matter of
one portion of Weber’s sociology, but are reflective of his over-
all thinking. Abraham believes that Weber’s views on Judaism
and the history of the Jews are “pejorative” and are a natural
outgrowth of Germany society (Abraham 1992: 6–7, 267). Yet,
Abraham admits that some of Weber’s close friends were Jewish
(including Jellinek and Simmel) and that he often went to great
lengths to defend them. However, Abraham believes that Weber
simply would not allow “Jews to be Jews” and that he wanted
them to assimilate. Abraham believes that despite the appear-
ance of being a progressive liberal, Weber was a conservative
reactionary like von Treitschke and Mommsen (Abraham 1992:
103–104, 118). Moreover, Abraham is convinced that he knows
Weber’s “real sentiments” and he recognizes that they lead to a
“vision of modernity that is invidious” (Abraham 1992: 7, 31).
Weber’s bias against the Jews is just one part of his “fundamen-
tal bias against a pluralistic society” (Abraham 1992: 21). Weber
may not engage directly in “anti-Semitic discourse” but he fre-
quently “alludes” to it (Abraham 1992: 109). Weber may not have
specifically singled out the Jews for condemnation like Sombart
did, but in Abraham’s opinion, Weber seemed to share many of
the same sentiments that Sombart had (Abraham 1992: 220–223,
228–229, 269). In his final analysis, Abraham asks how Weber
could be “so oblivious to Jewish realities” and he answers this
by suggesting it was because the Jews that Weber knew were
already assimilated (Abraham 1992: 275). Abraham maintains
 PROPHETS AND PARIAH-PEOPLE 101

that instead of providing a scholarly analysis of modernity,

Weber’s theory of religious development lacks a “factual basis”
and is rooted in “contemporary stereotypes” (Abraham 1992:
292). One wonders why Abraham spent so much time and effort
on Max Weber if he really thought that Weber was such a poor
scholar and an extreme political reactionary.
This chapter has shown that far from being an anti-Semite,
Weber was both personally concerned with the wellbeing of
his Jewish friends and colleagues and committed to highest
scholarly principles when writing on the Jews and their history.
Having experienced Treitschke’s anti-Semitism first hand in the
classroom and outside and having seen the pernicious effects of
the anti-Jewish sentiment, Weber was focused on providing a
careful and detailed account of the development of the economic
ethics of the Jews. Rather than regarding them as some foreign
and predatory group, Weber believed that they helped foster the
rise of Western rationalism by the elimination of magic from
religion and by the introduction of a heavily codified legal sys-
tem. Perhaps more importantly, Weber regarded some of the Old
Testament Prophets as providing some of the best examples of
the proper political leader—a type of leader who rejected the pan-
dering to different interests and warned instead of the destruc-
tion in following the wrong path (See Farris 2013: 114, 123). They
combined the principled ethics of conviction with the keen sense
of responsible action. It is not inconsequential that Weber had as
high regard for some of these prophets as he did for some of the
Calvinist theologians. After all, both types had an understanding
of God as the angry deity, but the prophets were bound by a legal
covenant. In addition, both types regarded themselves as instru-
ments of God, but instead of working blindly for an irrational
deity, the Old Testament Prophets clearly understood the moral
imperative for the political activities.21 Finally, Weber’s extraor-
dinary understanding of the complexities of social understand-
ing gave him the proper basis for comprehending and explaining
how a “pariah-people” came about and how they were able to
continue to interact with the dominant cultures.
102 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

The most recent charge that Weber was a racist comes

from Andrew Zimmerman. In several articles and in his book
Alabama in Africa, Zimmerman does not simply call Weber
a racist but insists that racism is an important element in his
political and sociological work and that “racial purity” and
“racial contamination” were among Weber’s central concerns
(Zimmerman 2010: 101–103). Zimmerman’s book is primarily
about the American South and so he devotes considerable time
to such leading figures as Booker T. Washington and W. E. B.
Du Bois. Zimmerman suggests that Weber believed that these
two scholars were not really black, but appeared almost white
and he refers to Marianne Weber’s biography of her husband
(Zimmerman 2010: 209–210). However, a reading of Marianne’s
letter to Max’s mother reveals a rather different picture than
what Zimmerman suggests. Marianne does indeed note that
Booker T. Washington’s wife did not appear as being fully black.
However, what she was more interested in relating was how edu-
cated and cultivated the Washingtons were and how important
the Tuskegee School was. Marianne shared her interest with the
Washington’s idealism and she sympathized with their fight
against racial hatred (Weber 2015: 332–333). What is even more
important is Weber’s own views, which are found in a number
of letters. In late September 1904, Weber wrote, in English, to
Booker T. Washington, and expressed the hope that he could
have the “honour to visit you and see your Institute.” He added
that he was “exceedingly interested in your great and humanitary
[sic] work” (Weber 2015: 304). Unfortunately, Booker was away
and the Webers could not wait for his return; Marianne was ill
and was not able to tolerate the heat. In a later letter, Weber wrote
to Booker T. Washington about how sorry he was to have missed
him and how he hoped to return to the United States in a few
years and would be able to visit the School again and have the
opportunity to express “the high admiration and consideration”
for him. For now, Weber expressed “our hearty and respectful
thank [sic] to Mrs. Washington and to the officers and teachers
of your Institute” (Weber 2015: 374).
 PROPHETS AND PARIAH-PEOPLE 103

Weber had met W. E. B. Du Bois at the 1904 St. Louis World

Congress (Weber 2015: 301, 304). In a letter to him, Weber wrote
that Marianne’s condition meant that he was unable to see him
and “your university” (University of Atlanta) and that he “begs”
that Du Bois considers his request to write an article on race for
the Archiv (Weber 2015: 391–392). Du Bois had written to Weber
that he would be taking up the offer, to which Weber responded
extremely satisfied. He also asked whether Du Bois was having
his book The Souls of Black People translated into German and if
not, he suggested that Else Jaffé to do it.22
Weber’s letters are key indicators to Weber’s views on race,
because of both their substance and their tone. Weber was asking
for scholarly contributions; if he did not think highly of Du Bois’
writing, he would not have invited him to write for the Archiv.
Weber’s requests to Du Bois and to Booker T. Washington are
just as polite and respectful as his requests to white scholars.23
The fact that Weber spoke of the “race problem” and the “Negro
problem” is not an indication of racism; they were the accepted
terms of the time. Weber may have had racist thoughts, but he
never made racism a central tenet of his sociology. Anyone who
suggests such things seems to be more interested in being provoc-
ative than in being scholarly, and anyone interested in a scholarly
account of Weber’s account of his trip through America should
read Lawrence Scaff’s Weber in America, and anyone interested
in Weber on race should read Karl-Ludwig Ay’s “Max Weber
und der Begriff der Rasse” (Scaff 2011; Ay 1993).
 6

Salvation and Theodicy*

T he notion of salvation and the concept of theodicy may

not seem to be closely related. The former is predicated
on the belief that while human beings are fundamentally
flawed, there is hope for redemption. The latter is based upon
the same belief that humans are flawed, but that there is lit-
tle or no hope for salvation. That is because the believers of
this doctrine hold that misfortunes and suffering come as the
result of flaws inherent in human beings and, consequently,
are not caused by a powerful and good God. Yet Weber seems
to have believed that the notions of salvation and theodicy are
closely connected, and it is likely that he adopted this belief
from Ernst Troeltsch. Troeltsch wrote some of the entries on
salvation (“Erlösung”) and theodicy (“Theodizee”) for the first
edition of Die Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart, and he
linked them together.1 These are not the only concepts that
Weber likely borrowed from Troeltsch and then adapted; schol-
ars have often noted Troeltsch’s overall importance for Weber.2
Partially, as a result, they are two of the most important con-
cepts in Weber’s sociology of religion. While a fair amount has
been written about his conception of salvation, his notion of
theodicy has been mostly neglected. This may be because the
notion of salvation is important in many of the world’s religion
but the concept of theodicy is restricted primarily to three of
them. It may also stem from the positive belief in salvation and
106 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

the rather negative connotation of theodicy. However, Weber

believed that they were not only interrelated and important,
but he also suggested a novel positive theory of theodicy to
accompany the typically negative notion.

Salvation

As with many of Weber’s concepts, the concept of salvation

was originally rooted in magic. Edith Hanke begins her article
“Erlösungsreligionen” with the comment “In the beginning were
the magic power and the magic” (“Am Anfang waren der Zauber
und die Magie”) (Hanke 2001: 208). Indeed, Weber begins the
second section of the “Religiöse Gemeinschaften” with the jux-
taposition between the magician and the priest and with the
acknowledgment that the boundary between them is not always
clear.3In the beginning what mattered to both was whether they
were successful in completing their tasks; for the magician it was
performing the magic and for the priest is was compelling the
gods (Weber 2001: 161). For Weber, one of the defining moments
in the history of religions was when irrational magic was replaced
by rational religion, and, as will be shown later, Weber believed
that it was primarily the Jews who were able to do this.4 One
of the other important characteristics of the Jewish religion was
the emphasis on ethical conduct. However, as Weber pointed
out, not all ethical religions were salvation religions. He points
to Confucianism as an example because it certainly has a reli-
gious ethic, but it does not have a need for salvation.5 In fact, in
the “Einleitung” to the volume on Confucianism and Taoism in
the Wirtschaftsethik der Weltreligionen series Weber maintained
that Confucianism did not have any trace of metaphysics and
that it really had a different type of rationalism than that found
in the West. In the “Resultat” section devoted to the comparison
between Confucianism and Puritanism, Weber acknowledged
that both of these religions have irrational roots but that the
former rests on magic. The magicians of Confucianism employed
magic in the attempt to placate the deities (Weber 1989: 467).
 SALVATION AND THEODICY 107

However, the deities are not all powerful and the people are not
naturally sinful; there will be order and peace if people are prop-
erly trained and respect tradition. Thus, there is no “Confucian”
notion of salvation because there is no need for it, whereas there
is not only the Christian concept of salvation, but also the fact
that this concept is an important and necessary one.
Edith Hanke maintained that Weber received most of his
ideas about salvation from Troeltsch, and she insists that it was
from Troeltsch’s Absolutheit des Christentums and not from his
entry on “Erlösung” in the Religion in Geschichte und Gegewart.
She may be right in this assertion, but she did not provide the
basis for this claim (Hanke 2001: 213). What speaks for Weber
utilizing Troeltsch’s article and not his earlier book is that it is
in “Erlösung” that he writes about the intersection of God, man,
and world as well as the connection between suffering and salva-
tion (Troeltsch 1909: 482, 485–486). As I will show later, the first
phrase is an important one and one that Weber employs often.
I will also demonstrate that Weber makes important use of the
second phrase with respect to the connection between suffering
and salvation.
In Troeltsch’s account of salvation, there is a massive gap
between God and man in the world, and this gap was caused
by man and not by God. It was caused by man as a result of his
finite and imperfect nature (Troeltsch 1909: 482). Furthermore,
because of his rebellious nature, man is doomed to suffering.
However, it is God’s gift of salvation that overcomes the gap
between imperfect humans and God, and which eliminates
this suffering (Troeltsch 1909: 485–486). While other religions
do have differing concepts of salvation, according to Troeltsch,
Christianity has the most complex and the highest form of it.
Weber did not share Troeltsch’s concern for the theologi-
cal concept of salvation, but he was even more interested than
Troeltsch in its impact on human conduct. Evidence for this
claim is not hard to find; Weber wrote two chapters on salvation
for the “Religiöse Gemeinschaften” section of Wirtschaft und
Gesellschaft. The first is titled “Salvation and Rebirth” (“Erlösung
108 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

und Wiedergeburt”) and it takes up fewer than five pages. In

contrast, the second chapter is titled “The Ways of Salvation and
their Influence on the Conduct of Life” (“Die Erlösungswege
und ihr Einfluß auf die Lebensführung”) and it covers more
than 60 pages (Weber 2001: 301–305, 305–367). The connection
to Troeltsch is evident in the first sentence where Weber repeats
Troeltsch’s formulation of the relationship of God to the world
and to human beings (Weber 2001: 301). The connection between
salvation and suffering is not quite as obvious as the relationship
between God and man, but it is evident with the ethical need
for release from sin. Weber later clarifies this by indicating that
salvation can be the freedom from physical, psychical, or social
suffering or it can be the freeing someone from the senseless
restlessness of life (Weber 2001: 304). Regardless of what causes
the longing for salvation, there is the belief that to achieve it one
needs to lead the proper life. There are, however, many religions
that teach how one should live and there are those that are ratio-
nal that are still not salvation religions. He cites Confucianism
as a rational religious ethic that has no understanding of the
“need for salvation” (“Erlösungbedürfnis”) (Weber 2001: 301).
Moreover, Buddhism is exclusively a “doctrine of salvation”
(“Erlösungslehre”) but it has no concept of God. Finally, Weber
maintains that there are a number of religions that possess a
concept of salvation but that they are more of utilitarian paths to
a type of holiness than they are related to the more usual notion
of salvation. Weber has no problems with this other notion of
utilitarian salvation, and indeed, he suggests that many of the
more traditional salvation religions have a utilitarian aspect. He
points to the religion of Zarathustra as an example of the reward
for religious piety and to Buddhism as an example of gaining a
long and prosperous life for having been moral. Weber also uses
the example of the Jewish belief that riches indicate that God
has blessed the pious Jew and he connects this with the ascetic
Protestant belief that riches, when earned rationally and legally,
are a “symptom of the ‘proof’ of the state of grace” (“Symptome
der ‘Bewährung’ des Gnadenstandes”) (Weber 2001: 302). It is
 SALVATION AND THEODICY 109

the Jew who has the best claim to the notion of being “saved”
because God “saved” them by freeing them from Egyptian ser-
vitude and by leading them out of the ghetto (Weber 2001: 303).
However, it is Christianity that has the most personified savior—
Jesus—who saves people from death with the resurrection and
rebirth. Weber reminds us that the notion of rebirth is far older
than Christianity, and it was found in the faith in the magical
spirits. The possessor of magical charisma was almost always
one who had undergone a rebirth. The magician sought to gain
a “new soul” (“neue Seele”) by living according to a strict disci-
pline; and Weber connects this to living according to the proper
conduct of life (“Lebensführung”). In fact, Weber stresses that
the ways to salvation have considerable influence on the “con-
duct of life” (Weber 2001: 304–305).
Weber begins his discussion of the different ways in which
various paths to salvation tend to influence one’s conduct of life
by focusing on those paths that are primarily ritualistic. These
are rituals that may be performed almost without thinking about
them. Weber notes their importance in religious life but as with
other instances of customary actions, he does not accord then
much recognition.6 The “purest” of these ritual types is magic
and its effects (Weber 2001: 305). These magical rituals may have
begun as being special but, over time, they became part of every-
day rituals. These are habitual and, for the most part, they lack
the disposition to prayer and worship. Because they are habitual,
they also lack rational action. Weber contrasts the everyday, rit-
ual regiment of a pious Hindu with the intentional actions of
the ascetic Protestant (Weber 2001: 307). A second type of ritual
life was found in Judaism. While it was heavily ritualized, it was
learned through specialized schooling (Weber 2001: 308).
Weber’s second classification is “social performances” (“soz-
iale Leistungen”) (Weber 2001: 309). He offers two variations of
this: first, there is the sense of good and bad that is found in the
lives of the Zarathustrians—the “judge of death” (“Totenrichter”)
tallies up what the person has done and determines the possible
salvation on the basis of this recognition. Weber suggests that
110 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

this determination of good and bad is frequently ascribed to

Jews, but Weber insists that this is more of a popular belief than
it is an actual Jewish practice. He also suggests that one finds the
tallying in Catholicism, as when one needs to atone for one’s sins
by doing penance. Each of these religions has a conduct of life
that remains “ethically unmethodical” because it is merely the
individual activities that follow one after another (Weber 2001:
309–310).
Weber moves to a different type of approach to the question
of salvation. It still comes under the category of the “social per-
formance” but unlike the first type, this one has a systematic
approach. However, it is one in which this systematic approach is
only a “symptom and an expression” (“Symptom und Ausdruck”)
and not the fundamental basis of any conduct of life. It is the
result of life, rather than its basis. It may be the practiced regu-
larity of certain actions or it might be the expression of an “ethics
of conviction” (“Gesinnungsethik”). It may be methodical but it
does not lie at the core of one’s being (Weber 2001: 311).
Finally, there is a third classification, one of “self-perfection”
(“Selbstvervollkommung”) (Weber 2001: 311). Here, Weber
moves from the type that has the least self-control to the one
that has the most self-control. He begins with “ecstasy” as
“means of ‘salvation’ or ‘becoming like God’” (“‘Erlösung’
oder ‘Selbstvergottung’”) (Weber 2001: 312). The type of acute
ecstasy or euphoria is the most transitory, and it stands to rea-
son that it is the least conductive to regular life. However, Weber
allows that there is an overlap; thus, the “vocational magician”
(“Berufszauberer”) and the “vocational warrior” (“Berufskrieger”)
may have episodes of ecstasy, but they also have the continuing
gift of charisma.7 In contrast, Weber notes that it is the prophet
who should be regarded as the antithesis to the one who seeks
to become God. Weber offers three reasons. First, in contrast
to the orgiastic moment for magician or warrior, the prophet
seeks an “ethical salvation” (“ethische Erlösung”) and second,
the prophet is part of the increasing rationalization of the con-
duct of life (Weber 2001: 313). Third, there is the change in the
 SALVATION AND THEODICY 111

conception of the deity; the god is no longer subject to magical

manipulation but has become “an all-powerful supra-worldly
God” (“ein allmächtiger überweltlicher Gott”). Thus, one can
no longer possess God; one can only be God’s instrument or be
“filled” by God.8 Rather than man being able to become god-
like by means of ecstasy, there is a gap that is between God and
man, and it is God who determines whether or how this gap is
closed. Weber concedes that the mystic who is filled with God is
similar to the one who has the ecstatic moment because of the
similarity of duration, but suggests that the mystic needs a sense
of continuity, just like the ascetic. Rather than the brief, orgiastic
possession, there is the drive of continuous self-control.9 Weber
also notes the sense of self-control found in the rationalism of
Confucianism as well as in the rationalism of the Jesuits—the
“historically most effective order of monks” (“historisch wirk-
samsten Mönchsordens”). The most rational religious believer
is the Protestant ascetic, and he is the most rational because
he is the most rationally self-controlled. The Protestant ascetic
rejects much of life—he rejects riches and fame and he rejects
enjoyment and even passions. The only thing that the Protestant
ascetic is “passionate” about is the issue of salvation. There are
obvious points of overlap between the Catholic monks and the
Protestant ascetic. However, one fundamental difference is found
in the former’s inclination to passivity whereas the latter has the
drive for activity. The second difference is that the monk has
the need to “flee the world,” but the latter is the “innerworldly”
person (Weber 2001: 323). This “innerworldliness” is manifested
by the need for restless work, that is, the “calling” for any type
of work (Weber 2001: 416). In the Protestant Ethic, Weber clar-
ified that this need to work was not because of one’s self, but
rather, it was intended solely for the greater glory of God (Weber
2014: 268). For Luther, this need for work was connected to the
notion of “Beruf,” and both reflected man’s place in God’s order.
For Calvin, the need for work served only to emphasize God’s
overwhelming power and importance. Luther still believed
that one could earn salvation, but it is clear that Calvin did
112 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

not believe that to be even a remote possibility. At the begin-

ning, God decreed that most people would be damned to hell,
and only a few were chosen to be among the Elect. The ques-
tion then becomes how does one know whether one is damned
or saved? However, because of God’s inscrutability there is no
way of knowing this with certainty (Weber 2014: 272–273, 280).
The only indication appears to be when an individual is working
for God’s glory; by this Weber means by really working and not
by doing apparently “good works” (Weber 2014: 281–283). Thus,
the question whether one is saved cannot be answered by some
other, like in Catholicism, but can only be hinted at by consider-
ing one’s self. Systematic self-control and the steady dedication
to work suggest that one has been chosen (Weber 2014: 284–285,
288). For the Protestant ascetic, salvation can never be earned
and one can never be certain that one has it. As Weber suggested
this appears to be a heartless type of religion and it seems to
be beyond human understanding (Weber 2014: 253–254). As a
result, it is the best form of theodicy.

Theodicy

The problem of theodicy is the age-old difficulty of attempting

to reconcile the fact that there is evil and suffering in this world
with the idea of a supremely benevolent and omnipotent God.
While it may not seem to be a topic that interested Weber very
much, a close examination of some of his writings reveals that
he was somewhat preoccupied by it. Not only was Weber inter-
ested in investigating it for scholarly reasons, but also his own
personal circumstances prompted him to develop a novel type
of theodicy. While theodicy had always indicated the seemingly
undeserved suffering for the many, Weber’s new form of theod-
icy revealed the apparently unwarranted fortune of a few. Both
Weber’s examinations of the traditional form of theodicy as suf-
fering as well as his introduction of a theodicy of fortune are
important and warrant inclusion in an examination of his fun-
damental concepts in his sociology of religion.
 SALVATION AND THEODICY 113

In pre-Judaic times, magicians were credited with possessing

the power to control the deities or at least to placate them. There
was never the issue of understanding; there was only the issue
of power. With the rise of Western rationality came the increas-
ing demand that reason explain everything, and this demand
came to fruition with the Enlightenment. It was one of the great
Enlightenment rationalists, Gottfried Leibniz, who coined the
term “theodicy” when he published a book by the same name in
1710. Since then, numerous German scholars have devoted con-
siderable attention to the topic. Its importance was underscored
by the fact that in the early 1900s, there was a special competition
in Germany devoted specifically to the impact and the history of
the problem of theodicy. Several of the entries charted the devel-
opment of the problem from Leibniz to Kant and from Schiller
to Goethe, with one entry containing the claim that Goethe’s
entire Faust could be considered as a “poetic theodicy.” (Lempp
1913; Wegener 1909; Hanke 2001: 221–222 n. 72; Troeltsch 1913b:
678–679 n. 1, and 682 n. 8). Weber was probably aware of this
line of thinking, but if he were not, Ernst Troeltsch would have
undoubtedly drawn Weber’s attention to it. The topic of theodicy
was an important one for Troeltsch; he wrote not only the second
entry of “Theodicy” in the massive Die Religion in Geschichte
und Gegenwart, but he also reviewed two prize articles on this
topic (Troeltsch 1913a, b). In his entry, he referred to the problem
of theodicy as one of the most “fundamental questions of all reli-
gion” (Troeltsch 1913a: 1186; see Lempp 1910: 1). It is also fun-
damental for Weber and it occurs throughout many of Weber’s
writings, but he views it differently at different times depending
on his focus of concern.10 Given such importance, it is surpris-
ing that so few scholars have paid any attention to Weber’s dis-
cussions of the problem of theodicy. Yet, Weber’s contributions
are important, if not unique, for several reasons. First, unlike
most of the people who have addressed the problem of theodicy,
Weber does not tackle the problem from a theological or ethical
point of view, but rather, he appropriates it and discusses it pri-
marily from a sociological perspective. Second, and in a similar
114 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

vein, he takes up Nietzsche’s notion about “Ressentiment,” but

he divests it of Nietzsche’s polemical overtones and offers a much
more nuanced account of this important notion. Third, Weber
provides a detailed contrast between the theodicy of suffering
and his unique theodicy of fortune; he argues that the lucky few
also have a fundamental and critical need for one. Finally, Weber
addresses the problem of theodicy, not simply from the detached
viewpoint of the scholar; he also approaches it from the emo-
tional viewpoint of the person who tries to make sense of the
world.
In the “Religiöse Gemeinschaften” section of Wirtschaft und
Gesellschaft Weber writes that the theological problem of the-
odicy is the “unsolvable problem” of how to reconcile the rec-
ognition of the “imperfection of the world” with the belief in
an all-powerful deity (Weber 2001: 296–297). Toward the end of
Politik als Beruf Max Weber provides a more complete version of
the “age old problem of theodicy” when he poses the question:
“How is it possible that such a power, which is both all powerful
and all good, could have created such an irrational world which
is filled with such undeserved suffering, so many unpunished
injustices, and such unreformable stupidity?”11
Weber’s concern is not so much with a particular version of a
theodicy as it is with the general notion of it. Such a notion of a
theodicy is fundamentally a “justification” of God and that it is
bound up with one’s conception of this deity (Weber 1989: 516,
2001: 292). The person who contends that the deity that rules
the world is an arbitrary despot has no need for such a justifica-
tion; it is simply a matter of that deity’s will and power. Similarly,
there is no need of a theodicy for a person who places every-
thing in faith; the Church has the answer that will eliminate
any doubts, and that is the doctrine of original sin (Lempp 1910:
1–3). However, for the person who believes that we are, or should
be, in a position to understand, there is the problem of theodicy.
As Lempp put it: “God is all powerful, all wise, all merciful, but
the world that he created is bad, [it is] a valley of tears, human-
ity is ensnared in original sin, so why did not God make this
 SALVATION AND THEODICY 115

world different?” (Lempp 1910: 5). As long as religion remained

a matter of faith, there would be little interest in thinking this
is a problem (Troeltsch 1913b: 679). It is only with the rise of
(“Western”) rationalism with its contention that we can under-
stand virtually everything that the problem of theodicy arises
(Lempp 1910: 7).
In Wissenschaft als Beruf Weber singles out two major inno-
vations that paved the way for the rise of Western rationalism:
the discovery of concept and the introduction of the rational
experiment (Weber 1992a: 89–90). These were part of the larger
process of systemization, in which the world was increasingly
“disenchanted” of magical powers. Wolfgang Schluchter argued
that this process could be split into two: that which was per-
formed by science and that which was accomplished by religion—
specifically, by the religions of salvation (Schluchter 2009b:
7–13). However, the two are linked because the rise of rationality
broadened the ability to try to make sense of the world and by
extension to solve the problem of theodicy. Unfortunately, the
emphasis on understanding ultimately leads to the complete fail-
ure of providing satisfactory answers to the difficulties raised by
theodicy.
Understanding the world includes, as Lempp stated in his
article on “Theodicy,” determining the “reason, sense, or pur-
pose of evil in the world” (“Grund, Sinn oder Zweck des Ü bels
in der Welt”), or as Troeltsch maintained in his article, discov-
ering the “final sense and reason of the world” (“letzten Sinn
und Grund der Welt”) (Lempp 1913: 1177, 1183; Troeltsch 1913a:
1186, 1188). Troeltsch also uses the simpler phrase, “Sinn der
Welt,” which is the same phrase that Weber uses. Weber uses the
term “Sinn” (“sense”) in a number of different ways. Wolfgang
Schluchter claims to have found three different ways in which
Weber uses “Sinn”: a metaphysically true sense, a dogmatically
correct sense, and a subjectively meant sense (Schluchter 1991:
542). There is little doubt that this claim is correct, but for the
purposes here, I want to examine Weber’s use of “Sinn” from
a different perspective. Weber often uses the word “Sinn” in
116 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

an everyday way as when he writes of the “correct sense” (“im

rechtlichen Sinn”) in “Die ‘Objektivität’ sozialwissenschaftlicher
und sozialpolitischer Erkenntnis” or the “sense of ‘Wertfreiheit’”
in “Der ‘Sinn der ‘Wertfreiheit’ der soziologischen und ökono-
mischen Wissenschaften” (Weber 1922b: 195, 451). In Wirtschaft
und Gesellschaft Weber writes of the “sense of religion” and the
“sense of traditionalism” (Weber 2001: 121, 346). In addition, in
Wissenschaft als Beruf, Weber introduces the topic of “Beruf” or
“calling” by first setting out the “material sense of the word” and
he refers to the “sense” of Plato’s “mania.” In these and other pas-
sages, Weber is speaking of the technical or “Wortsinn” of the
word or concept (Weber 1992a: 71, 85, 86, 105, 109). However,
Weber frequently uses “Sinn” in a much larger and more meta-
physical, if not more “ethical sense” (“ethischer ‘Sinn’”) (Weber
1989: 94). This is the “‘Sinn’ der Welt,” which Weber uses repeat-
edly (Weber 1989: 515, 519, 1992a: 92, 2001: 324, 328, 356). In
Wissenschaft als Beruf he introduces this notion by referring to
Tolstoy’s question whether death has any sense. As Weber puts
it, “if death is a meaningful occurrence or not” (“ob der Tod eine
sinnvolle Erscheinung sei oder nicht”). For Tolstoy the answer
was a clear “No” for the “Kulturmenschen.” Weber clarifies this
by pointing out that the “Kulturmenschen” live by “thoughts,
knowledge, problems,” and that they can only be “tired of life.”
For them, death is meaningless. In contrast, death had sense for
“Abraham or some peasant in the old days” because they were
“sated with life” (Weber 1992a: 87–88). Weber elaborates upon
this in the “Zwischenbetrachtung” when he writes of the “com-
pletion of life.” Not only do Abraham and the peasant have a
meaningful death because they have lived a meaningful life;
the “lord of the manor” (“Grundherr”) and the “war hero”
(“Kriegsheld”) also do. They have fulfilled the “life cycle of their
existence” (“Denn beide erfüllten einen Kreislaufs ihres Seins”)
(Weber 1989: 518). In the “Zwischenbetrachtung” Weber’s point
is that “culture” with its emphasis on progress is limitless (Weber
1989: 518). In Wissenschaft als Beruf it is the “sense” of “science”
that it can never be “filled” or completed; it is the “progress of
 SALVATION AND THEODICY 117

infinity.” We must expect that our scientific answers are destined

to become outdated in 10, 20, or 50 years. Weber says “that is the
fate, indeed: that is the sense of the task of science.”12 His larger
point is that science cannot give our lives meaning or sense.
Weber does not maintain that the “scientific” person does not
have a “meaningful vocation” (“sinnvoller Beruf”), but what he
does maintain is that science cannot give life its meaning (Weber
1992a: 88). Each of the previous attempts are illusions; regardless
whether they are the “way to true being,” the “way to true art,”
the “way to true God,” or even the “way to true happiness.” These
attempts are all illusions; in addition, they lack sense because
they cannot answer the two most fundamental questions: “What
should we do? How should we live?” (“Was sollen wir tun? Wie
sollen wir leben?”) (Weber 1992a: 93). Science cannot approach
the “last sense” (“letzter Sinn”), which is to answer the question
of the relationship of “God, man and world” (Weber 1992a: 93,
2001: 167, 301; Hanke 2001: 215).
This “last sense” is the relation between God and man. Or, to
put it differently, why is it that good and just people suffer and
the bad and unjust do not? Weber formulates this into a general
question: why is there such “undeserved” or “unjust” suffering
in the world? (Weber 1989: 94, 515, 519). This is what he calls the
“theodicy of suffering” (“Theodizee des Leidens”) (Weber 1989:
93, 95). One of the earliest and best-known stories of undeserved
suffering is in the Old Testament’s Book of Job. Here, the good,
pious, and honest servant of God loses everything—family, prop-
erty, and even his reputation. One of Weber’s major sources on
old Judaism, Hermann Gunkel, wrote that Job’s story is not just
a moving story; it is also one of the first instances of doubt in the
Old Testament. Previously, people simply believed that the pious
would have health, happiness, and prosperity while the impious
would suffer (Gunkel 1912: 39–40). They also believed that God
punished only the wicked, or if he punished the good, it was to
serve as an example. However, Gunkel pointed out that neither
of these applied in Job’s case (Gunkel 1912: 45–46). Bernhard
Duhm, another of Weber’s sources, suggested that the primary
118 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

focus of the book was the problem of misfortune (Duhm 1897:

vii–viii, xii). Lempp suggested that the Book of Job was designed
to show that every theory about God’s justice “smashed against
reality” (Lempp 1913: 1179). Weber held that the Book of Job was
an attempt to intellectualize the problem of theodicy, but that it
failed to offer a solution (Weber 2001: 275, 260). To the question
whether there is a moral world order, there is no answer; there is
only God’s overwhelming power (Weber 2001: 260; Duhm 1897:
v). What the Book of Job did accomplish was to contribute to the
increasing Jewish desire to provide answers in the form of doc-
trines, as the Old Testament Prophets were doing (Weber 2001:
197). Weber maintains that the Book of Job comes from the
Jewish intellectual circle and stems from the “natural rational
desire of intellectualism to grasp the world as a meaningful cos-
mos.”13 As the belief in magic diminished, so too did the belief in
the world’s “magical meaning.” As confidence in intellect grew,
the world began to make less “sense”; it was transformed into a
place where things simply happened, and are merely happening
now. As a result, there was an increasing demand for the world
and one’s life to be “meaningfully” (“Sinnvoll”) ordered (Weber
2001: 273). It is by virtue of the movement toward intellectual-
ism that there is the need for the “pure thinking comprehension
of the world and its ‘sense’” (“rein denkenden Erfassung der Welt
und ihres ‘Sinnes’” (Weber 1989: 104). Weber emphasizes that
this need for a “theodicy of suffering” is a rational need.14 This
is the rational need to understand suffering. If one believes that
one suffers because one is possessed by a demon or is punished
because of God’s anger, then there is no need for a theodicy
(Weber 1989: 89). On the other hand, if one contends that the
world is simply chaotic or that it is dominated by magical forces,
then there is no way to comprehend it and no need for a theod-
icy. However, if one maintains that we humans have the capacity
to understand the world and that the God who governs does so
justly then there is the need to explain why there is suffering.
This is shown by the extraordinarily strong rational need for an
explanation of why there is injustice in the world. Weber notes
 SALVATION AND THEODICY 119

that this need continues even into the twentieth century and he
points to a 1906 study that asked a number of workers for the
reason why they lacked faith. Only a minority attributed this
lack of faith to the results stemming from modern scientific the-
ories while the majority placed the blame directly on the “injus-
tice” of “this world order” (Weber 1989: 95). Thus, there is the
continuing need to solve the problem of theodicy.

The Three Types of Theodicy

Every type of theodicy acknowledges that there is evil and suf-

fering in the world. The task then is to try to explain why they
exist—either by insisting that God is not all powerful or that
God is not all good. Weber looks at the types of theodicy by their
choice of explanation. According to him, there are three types
of theodicy. In Wissenschaft als Beruf Weber merely lists them;
they are the “Persian dualism,” the “Indian doctrine of Karma,”
and the doctrine of predestination with its attendant notions of
original sin and “Deus absconditus” (Weber 1992a: 241). At the
end of the “Zwischenbetrachtung” Weber lists these three again,
but here he does more than simply enumerate them.
Weber’s shortest treatment is on Persian dualism, and here the
choice is to believe that God is not all powerful. In this dualism,
there are two dueling powers: the forces of light and the pow-
ers of darkness, or put differently, between the “pure” and the
“impure” (Weber 1989: 520–521). Evil is not a “privation,” but is
a “real” power and the world is the “showplace” of the “dramatic
struggle” between these powers.15 God is not the cause of injus-
tice, unfairness, and sin, that is, all the conditions that provide
for the need for a theodicy (Weber 2001: 298). There is no point
in trying to justify God and the forces of light; rather one must
help these good forces to overcome the dark powers (Weber 2001:
298–299; see Lempp 1913: 1178). The dark powers are connected
to the heaviness of the material world, while the forces of good
are linked to the pure and light. As a result, there is an “aristo-
cratic feeling of prestige” connected with the “pure and chosen”
120 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

(Weber 2001: 299). As an aside, Weber notes that Zarathustrian

dualism is found in the general opposition between the forces of
“heaven” and “hell” (Weber 1989: 521).
The second form of theodicy that Weber lists in the
“Zwischenbetrachung” is the Indian “intellectual-religious”
version, which he refers to as the “superior” (“hervorragende”)
form of theodicy (Weber 1989: 522). Like the Persian dual-
ism, the notion of an all-powerful deity recedes, but unlike the
dualism, the “cause” of the suffering is not ascribed to any out-
side force, but rather to our own sinful nature. In his article on
“Theodizee” Lempp suggests that it is in the “Indian religion”
that the problem of theodicy begins to become a major focus. It
is also here that not all human suffering is blamed on some out-
side force, but on the individual himself. As Lempp writes, all
unfilled needs and imperfections, all social necessities and the
caste system, all political difficulties, and even natural catastro-
phes are the result of our own bad deeds (Lempp 1913: 1177), and
he calls this a very “strict moral order.” In the volume devoted to
Hinduism and Buddhism, Weber speaks to this order by insist-
ing that the Hindu theodicy is fundamentally rational. He adds
that it is extraordinarily rich with doctrines (Weber 1996: 201–
202, 271). There are, he insists, two interconnected doctrines
that no Hindu would contest: they are “Samsara” (“transmigra-
tion of souls”) and “Karma” (“repayment”). In essence these two
doctrines combine to form the contention that the individual is
destined to atone for his or her own transgressions, or those of
one’s family, by constantly being reborn. Weber contends that
the idea that one is fated to eternally repeat one’s specific life
is something that appears totally senseless and unendurable; so
the question is, how does one get off this “wheel” of life? Lempp
answers this by pointing to the need for a second theodicy. Here,
the individual can hope to escape from the endless reincarna-
tions by denying all bodily desires (Lempp 1913: 1178). Weber
takes up this theme when he notes the demand for order and
discipline and with the need for everyday asceticism (Weber
1996: 241, 245, 250–254). Weber notes that there is no economic
 SALVATION AND THEODICY 121

influence on the development of these doctrines and that they

instead grew out of the belief in a rationally-ethically deter-
mined cosmos (Weber 1996: 206, 218). Weber believes that it
achieves its “extraordinary metaphysical performance” (“außer-
ordentliche metaphysiche Leistung”) because it combines one’s
self-dissolution with the universal approach to salvation and by
the strictest “world-rejection” (“Weltablehnung”) with organic
social ethics. It also achieves this by combining the highest path
to salvation with “inner-wordly vocational ethics” (“innerweltli-
cher Berufsethik”) (Weber 1989: 522).
The third type of theodicy is, in Weber’s opinion, the most
important form of theodicy and is found in the Calvinist doc-
trine of predestination. As with the other two, the doctrine of
predestination is prompted by the massive presence of “poverty,
need, and destiny” (Troeltsch 1913c: 1706). As with the Hindu
form of theodicy, the deity’s goodness is safeguarded by placing
the blame for suffering in the world on its human occupants.
However, here, the emphasis on blaming humans is even greater.
The world is a place of suffering because every human being is
equally corrupted (Weber 1989: 465). However, as Weber indi-
cates, even if everyone is equally corrupt, not everyone has the
same “chance” for religious salvation. Indeed, only a “chosen
few” are to be part of the “Ecclesia pura” while the vast major-
ity are condemned to damnation (Weber 1989: 110, 464–465).
Weber also emphasizes that this is not a temporal decree but
an eternal one (Weber 1989: 465–466, 2001: 297). Elsewhere
Weber insists that the salvation that is granted to the select few
does not come from anything that they might have done or do,
but is simply a “totally free foundationless gift of grace” (“ganz
freies grundloses Gnadengeschenk”) (Weber 2001: 362). In the
“Zwischenbetrachtung” Weber directs us to what he had written
about the doctrine of predestination in the Protestant Ethic and
the Spirit of Capitalism (Weber 1989: 521; see Weber 1922a: 91).
We cannot hope to understand God’s decision; it is based upon
God’s “omniscience” (“Allwissenheit”) (Weber 1989: 521, 2001:
297). Nor are we in any position to evaluate it, to try to apply
122 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

human standards is both senseless and an affront to God (Weber

1922a: 92). Finally, we do not have any grounds for complaint;
to do so is like an animal complaining that it was not born a
human being (Weber 2001: 297, 1922a: 93). This deity is not the
“revealed God,” it is the “hidden God”—the “Deus absconditus”
(Weber 1989: 95, 2001: 297). The sole point, or value, is God’s
sovereignty, his majesty and his glory (Weber 2001: 297, 1989:
521, 1922a: 94; Troeltsch 1913c: 1707–1708). Any claim to God’s
goodness is sacrificed, what remains is the intention to “save”
God’s omnipotence. The “recognized impossibility” of mea-
suring God’s decrees by human standards signifies with “life-
less clarity” (“liebloser Klarheit”) the impossibility of making
“sense of the world” through human understanding, and that
puts an end to the problem of theodicy (Weber 1989: 521). Thus,
the problem is not with God, but with humans. Yet, this answer
does not fully address the underlying problem of theodicy: even
if humans were morally corrupt, why would an all powerful
and all merciful God allow such horrible suffering. Rather than
providing an answer to the problem of theodicy, the Calvinist
attempt ends in failure. As John Love pointed out, the emphasis
on understanding was supposed to “master the world and trans-
form it for God’s glory, but this had unexpected results for it
led ultimately to science and the disenchantment of the world”
(Love 2000: 220).

The Jews, Calvinism, and Nietzsche

Weber believed that there was a group that should be consid-

ered forerunners to Calvinism, and this group was the Jews
(Fleischmann 1980: 266, 270–271). He also believed that the
Calvinists shared certain features of their attempts at a theodicy,
as evidenced by the form used by the Old Testament Prophets
(see Hanke 2001: 223). Both are strictly limited in their pursuit of
an answer to the problem of theodicy (Weber 2001: 298, 2005a:
668 n. 86). Both the Calvinists and the prophets believed in an
all-powerful deity and both held that humans, because of their
 SALVATION AND THEODICY 123

weaknesses and defective natures, were responsible for their suf-

ferings (see Weber 2005: 667). However, the Calvinists believed
that this was true for all humankind, whereas the prophets
focused almost exclusively on their own people. The problem of
theodicy was not an abstract and remote question. Rather the
“entirely great questions of theodicy” go directly and immedi-
ately to the heart of the Jewish religion and that the Jews suf-
fered massively under the “difficult theodicy problem” (Weber
2005: 530, 532). This “final question” was a “fundamental thesis
of prophecy” (Weber 2005: 541–542). Since the prophets in par-
ticular and the Israelis in general rejected the power of magic,
they could not blame the undeserved suffering on demons
and evil spirits. Human suffering did not come from irratio-
nal sources such as “blind accident” or through magical pow-
ers. Instead, it was an understandable and “fundamental thesis”
that all evils stemmed from God (Weber 2005: 551, 666). While
the evils came from God, humans brought them on themselves.
Weber relies on Hermann Gunkel’s article on the God of the
Old Testament in Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart (Weber
2005: 661 n. 51). Originally, God loved “Israel as a father loves his
sons” and he “protected, led, and cared” for it as a shepherd does
for his flock (Gunkel 1910: 1532). Even Israel’s military victories
were regarded as a direct result of “help” from God. However,
God was also Israel’s “highest judge,” so when Israel turned away
from God’s justice and morality and engaged instead in injus-
tice and sacrilege, God moved to punish it (Gunkel 1910: 1533).
The true prophet believed that he was the “guardian of moral-
ity” (“Sittenwächter”) and he repeatedly emphasized that God is
a “sovereign” (“Herrscher”) and he repeatedly warned of God’s
“wrath” (“Zorn”) and impending catastrophe (Weber 2005:
666–667, 671, 730, 735). Loss of property, sickness, and poverty
were all taken as indications of God’s wrath (Weber 2005: 738).
Weber maintained that all of this pain, suffering, and poverty
led to the creation of “the single real, earnest Theodicy” (“die
einzige wirklich ernsthafte Theodizee”) (Weber 2005: 736).
While the Jews regarded themselves as the chosen “people,” they
124 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

also believed that they were chosen to suffer. To understand

some of Weber’s thinking, it is necessary to take up the issue of
Nietzsche’s impact on Weber. In one regard there is little doubt
that Nietzsche was a major force in Weber’s thinking; Weber
himself said that Nietzsche’s influence on German thinking was
paramount; only Karl Marx could be considered to have a simi-
lar impact (see Baumgarten 1964: 554–555 n. 1).

Nietzsche, “Ressentiment” and the “Negative Privileged”

Several scholars have suggested that it was not Sombart but

Nietzsche who was the focus of Weber’s concerns (Otto 2002:
239, 265; Lichtblau 2001: 285–286). Both Weber and Nietzsche
contended that the Jews occupied a special place in the history of
religion and that they both approached this from a shared prob-
lematic (Lichtblau 2001: 279). This is not the place to enter into
the discussion about Nietzsche’s influence on Weber; rather, the
sole focus here is on Nietzsche’s notion of “Ressentiment” and
the function that it plays in Weber’s conceptions of theodicy.
In the Preface to Zur Genealogie der Moral, Nietzsche referred
to his first literary attempt. As a 13-year-old boy, he tried to
tackle the age-old question of the origin of evil. In it he gave
“God the honor” and made him the “father of evil” (Nietzsche
1988: 249). In the first part of Zur Genealogie Nietzsche makes a
far more sophisticated attempt at determining the origin of evil,
and this time he attributes it to the Jews. Previously human his-
tory suggested that there was an equivalence of values: “Good=
noble=powerful=beautiful=fortunate=God-loved” and that was
accompanied by a hatred of weakness (Nietzsche 1988: 267). The
noble and fortunate simply believed that they were entitled to
their good fortunate and they had no reason even to reflect upon
the question whether or not they deserved it. In marked contrast,
the Jews spent an inordinate amount of effort on the question of
why they “deserved” to suffer. In Nietzsche’s narrative, the Jews
adopted what he called a “slave morality” and developed hatred
of strength. They rose up against “the good, the beautiful, the
 SALVATION AND THEODICY 125

fortunate,” whom they “hated” and “resented,” hence Nietzsche’s

notion of “Ressentiment” accompanied by his theory of “the
revaluation of all values” (Nietzsche 1988: 270–271).
It is to Eckart Otto’s credit that he stresses the importance
of Nietzsche’s notion of “Ressentiment” on Weber’s thinking,
which he does in the fourth section of his Max Webers Studien
des Antiken Judentums and in his lengthy introduction to the
volume Das Antike Judentum (Weber 2005b: 70, 128–130; Otto
2002: 243–245). However, it is mentioned only a couple of times
in Das antike Judentum and in one of those times the term is
used in describing God’s “passionate wrath or sharp resent-
ment” against the godless (Weber 2005: 732, 813–814). Weber’s
discussions of it are instead found in two other places: in the
Introduction to Die Wirtschaftsethik der Weltreligionen and
in the “Religiöse Gemeinschaften” section of Wirtschaft und
Gesellschaft. According to Weber, Nietzsche was the first to
recognize that “Ressentiment” was at the foundation of the
Jewish ethical salvation-religiosity and that he had set this out
in his “brilliant essay” Zur Genealogie der Moral (Weber 2001:
257, 1989: 88). For the Jews, suffering was not something to
be looked down upon but to be embraced; the fortunate peo-
ple who looked on the unfortunate were not to be envied but
to be despised. Weber specifically points to the Psalms as being
filled with the need for revenge (Weber 2001: 258). The Jewish
religion was one of revenge and retribution (Weber 2001: 259).
In Weber’s view, the “feeling of revenge” is expressed by the
notion of “Ressentiment” (Lichtblau 2001: 291). In many points,
Weber shares Nietzsche’s insights, but there are fundamental
differences. First, Nietzsche was wrong to attribute this sim-
ply to the “rising up of the slaves” (“Sklavenaufstand”) (Weber
1989: 89, 2001: 263). Second, Weber’s treatment of the notion of
“Ressentiment” differs fundamentally from that of Nietzsche; he
offers a dispassionate scholarly analysis of it, whereas Nietzsche
provides a passionate denunciation of it. Weber thinks that this
is a small but important sociological notion; Nietzsche contends
that it is the fundamental metaphysical/ethical point of view that
126 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

is responsible for virtually the entire decline of Western civiliza-

tion. Weber is quick to acknowledge that it was Nietzsche who
first drew attention to this notion, and that it grew out of the
forceful recognition of the “unequal distribution” of suffering.
Moreover, it led directly to the form of a theodicy of what Weber
calls the “negative privileged” (Weber 2001: 258). Unfortunately,
Nietzsche did not pursue this last point, so the third difference is
that Weber’s own treatment is bound up with the important, but
neglected notion, of the “negative privileged.”
The Jews were not the only “negative privileged” people in
the world; there have been many other disadvantaged people as
well. Weber also pointed out that it was not just the Jewish reli-
gion, or even the Christian religion that was the only salvation
religion. Rather, virtually all of the religions of the oppressed
peoples were religions of salvation—and the more the people
were oppressed, the more powerful was their hope for salvation
(Weber 2001: 255–256). In contrast to the noble and privileged
people who have no need for salvation religions, these salvation
religions hold a special place for the poorer and “negative priv-
ileged” people (Weber 2001: 249, 252). In the past, the positive
privileged people were the nobles; in the present, they as well
as the bureaucrats make up this class (Weber 2001: 234). In the
past, the negative privileged people included the slaves and the
free day laborers; today, it also includes the proletariat (Weber
2001: 234, 246). These are the economically, politically, and
socially disadvantaged classes who have little hope of being able
to better their lot in life. Weber singles out Sombart’s 1906 book
titled Das Proletariat for its “beautiful form” in describing how
the modern factory worker and his family have lost almost all
sense of freedom and the ability to relate to nature (Weber 2001:
246). Instead, the masses have almost nothing to soothe their
lives; even their most basic needs are often unsatisfied (Weber
2001: 247). Weber insists that it is, in fact, the special need of the
negative privileged to seek release (salvation) from suffering.16
The Jews may have felt singled out for suffering, and that in turn
led to the “Ressentiment” toward the more fortunate. The Jews
 SALVATION AND THEODICY 127

may have had a special need for a theodicy, but the need for reli-
gious salvation is found in every type of the “negative privileged
classes.”17

The “Theodicy of Fortune”

Weber notes that throughout history, people believed bodily

deformities and other types of sufferings were considered to be
indications of God’s wrath. In contrast, those who were strong
and beautiful were believed to have been blessed by the gods
(Weber 2001: 253–254, 1989: 89). This does not mean that the
fortunate were indifferent to religion, because they were not.
Unlike Nietzsche, Weber maintained that the beautiful and
strong also looked to religion. They did not, however, seek it as a
source of consolation, or a “theodicy of suffering.” Instead, they
saw religion as a source of legitimacy for their fortune—in other
words, a “theodicy of fortune.” As Lichtblau put it, they had a
need for “religious justification,” that is the need to feel that their
fortune was “legitimate” (Lichtblau 2001: 281). Or, as Weber put
it, this was a “psychical need for comfort for the legitimization
of fortune” (“seelische Komfortbedürfnis nach Legitimät des
Glückes”) (Weber 2001: 253). This need manifested itself in the
search for legitimizing one’s political destiny, in the difference
in economic situations, in bodily health, and even in accounting
for success in erotic competition, among other things (Weber
2001: 253). Weber acknowledges that not every privileged person
has this need and not everyone has the need for legitimization to
the same degree (Weber 2001: 253–254). However, Weber insists,
“The fortunate are seldom satisfied with the fact of the posses-
sion of their fortunateness” (“Der Glückliche begnügt sich selten
mit der Tatsache des Besitzes seines Glückes”) (Weber 1989: 89).
Just as the person wanted to believe that those who were less for-
tunate, somehow “deserved” that, he also wanted to believe that
he “deserved” his happiness. The person wanted a “right” to jus-
tify his fortune, to show how his power, honor, possessions, and
enjoyments were “earned” (Weber 1989: 90). If the world’s poor
128 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

masses needed a “theodicy of suffering,” the fortunate few also

required a “theodicy of fortune.”
Max Weber counted himself as being one of the fortunate
ones—in at least one respect. He was appointed professor at
Freiburg at the age of 29 and then took over the prestigious chair
in national economy at Heidelberg at 33. He recognized that he
was very fortunate and he must have thought about it through-
out his life. He refers to it in Wissenschaft als Beruf, where he
warns his student audience of the hazards and dangers of pur-
suing a scholarly position. He told them that he was fortunate to
be promoted to full professor at a rather young age while many
older and more deserving candidates were passed over. Because
of this, Weber insisted that he has such a “sharpened eye” for
an “undeserved fate” (“unverdientes Schicksal”) (Weber 1992:
75). For most people, making the choice for an academic life is a
“wild hazard” and, for some, there is no chance. For those who
are Jewish, Weber advises them to remember Dante’s “aban-
don all hope” (Weber 1992: 75, 79–80). For those who do begin
the effort, he cautions that they must be able to tolerate the fact
that “year after year the mediocre ones will be promoted over
you.” If you are not favorably regarded by the students as a good
teacher, you will receive the “academic death sentence,” even if
you are one of the best scholars in the world (Weber 1992: 80,
78). Moreover, the students may base their unfavorable opinion
upon the smallest of factors, like one’s temperament and even
tone of voice. In Weber’s opinion, the academic life is dominated
in the highest degree by “chance” (“Chance”) and “accident”
(“Zufall”); indeed, he insists that he can scarcely imagine any
other career on earth (“Laufbahn auf Erden”) in which “chance”
and “accident” play such a role.
Weber may have been quite fortunate in becoming a profes-
sor at so early an age, however, his lengthy illness prevented him
from working and he ultimately resigned from the faculty at
Heidelberg. It was only because of the impact of the war and
the destruction of Germany’s economy that he tried teach-
ing again—the semester in Vienna and then taking up Lujo
 SALVATION AND THEODICY 129

Brentano’s former chair in Munich. One can suspect that his ill-
ness made him more empathetic to the misfortunes of others, or
one can believe that his mother’s religious inclinations had an
early impact. Regardless, while Weber seemed never to share the
inclination to be religiously faithful, he seemed to have a thor-
ough understanding of why people sought salvation and why
they needed an explanation for human suffering.
 7

Charisma

I t is primarily because of Max Weber that the concept of cha-

risma has become part of the vocabulary of the social scien-
tist and has entered into popular discourse. That the concept
is widely used in both scholarly and non-scholarly circles is no
guarantee that it is fully understood and correctly used. Indeed,
it is a rather problematic notion. As Peter Ghosh has noted in
his recent intellectual biography of Max Weber and his discus-
sion of the Protestant Ethic, charisma “is another of those great
Weberian themes that everybody knows, but where one some-
times wonders if anybody does.” (Ghosh 2014: 305). In fact, it
was the notion of charisma more than any other of Weber’s
concepts that initially prompted me to investigate Weber’s soci-
ology of religion and, more recently, it was the confusion over
the origins and meaning of charisma that gave the impetus for
this book. For Weber, charisma is an absolutely extraordinary
power and Weber uses the concept throughout much of his later
writings. While theological in origin, Weber used it in a variety
of different fields, so an understanding of it is indispensable for
understanding Weber’s sociology.
Max Weber introduced the notion of charisma to scholarly
circles, but he never gave it a strict definition. However, from his
many discussions, one can define it provisionally as a special
power that is conferred upon a specifically chosen person—a
power that allows the possessor to do or to say extraordinary
132 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

things that draw people to follow the charismatic leader. As

Stephen Turner pointed out, Max Weber turned charisma from
an obscure theological concept into an important sociological
one. However, Turner added that Weber himself had differing
concepts of charisma and had never resolved the conflicts in
these approaches (Turner 2003: 6–7, 9, 14). One major obstacle
is that Weber often moved from one conception of charisma to
another, without ever discussing the shift. Specifically, Weber
frequently writes of charisma in what we may call its “pure”
form. “Pure charisma” is the type of charisma that is indifferent
but more frequently antithetical to noncharismatic concerns.
These noncharismatic concerns include economic, social, and
political considerations. Then there is Weber’s second type of
charisma, which I will call “mixed charisma.” “Mixed charisma”
is always associated with one, two, or even more noncharis-
matic concerns. In cases of “mixed charisma,” economic and/
or other types of concerns impact the role and importance of
charisma. Given this background, at least two things should be
clear: The first is that the reader needs to realize when Weber is
using “pure charisma” and when he has shifted to “mixed cha-
risma”; thus, when Weber explains in great detail that charisma
is antithetical to everyday economic concerns, he is employing
the former. The second is that Weber was taking a relatively
unknown and specifically theological term and radically trans-
forming it into what would become a rather famous and much
more general social-cultural term. Because of this, it is impor-
tant to spend some time devoted to tracing the history of cha-
risma in German culture.
An understanding of the history of charisma is helpful for at
least three more reasons. First, an understanding of it will help
to forestall such assertions as the one by Talcott Parsons. In a
note to his translation of the Protestant Ethic, Parsons insisted,
“Charisma is a sociological term that Weber coined himself”
(Weber 1992b: 281 n. 105). Second, it will help one to under-
stand how and why Weber appropriated this theological term.
Third, it will help to clarify how Weber expanded the meaning
 CHARISMA 133

of charisma to apply to various types of authority, and not just to

the theological type.1
A good starting point to demonstrate that the concept of cha-
risma was virtually unknown in Germany is to consult the famous
Deutsches Wörterbuch. The Grimm brothers did not deem it
important enough in the nineteenth-century to include the word
in their 33 volume dictionary. Although the second volume has
1,776 double columns (the volume has approximately 900 pages),
there is no entry for “charisma.” Even though it has some sev-
enty different entries of variations of “Christ,” it does not have a
single entry for any of the variations for charisma (Grimm 1984:
619–626, 612). It is not that the word was completely unknown;
rather, it was simply not used much and, when it was used, it
was within a very small circle of theologians. The first edition of
the Real-Encyklopädie für protestantische Theologie und Kirche
appeared in the 1850s and has an entry between “Chantal” and
“Charlier” for “Charisma”; but instead of a definition, it simply
lists “Geistesgaben” (Real-Encyklopädie 1854–1866: 2: 634). In
the entry on “Geistesgaben,” the word “charisma” is mentioned
several times but only in its historical context. Its origin is uncer-
tain but it might have come from the Apostle Paul. Its meaning
is similarly unknown but it appears to be a “spiritual gift” as
opposed to a “natural” one (Real-Encyklopädie 1854–1866: 4:
735). The second edition of the Real-Encyklopädie für protestant-
siche Theologie und Kirche carries over the practice of merely list-
ing “Charisma” as a word for “Geistesgaben” (Real-Encyklopädie
1878–1888: 4: 173). Here, its origins are not discussed as much
as its history. It was mentioned by the Dutch jurist Paul Voet in
the seventeenth century, who indicated that the person who had
it possessed a particular miraculous power. It remained a little
used phrase until the nineteenth century, when a few German
theologians mentioned it again (Real-Enclyklopädie 1878–1888:
5: 10, 14). In the third edition it is again simply listed, but not
as “Charisma” but as “Charismen.”2 Again there is no defini-
tion but only “Geistesgaben” (Realencyklopädie 1896–1909:
3: 791) “Charismen” is mentioned in the entry “Geistesgaben” but
134 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

neither its origin or its history receive much discussion. Instead,

it is taken to refer to the community and the clerical offices,
thus it lacks the special meaning that will be later developed by
Weber (Realencyklopädie 1896–1909: 6: 460–463). The third edi-
tion was the last edition of the Realencyklopädie für protestan-
tische Theologie und Kirche but the Die Religion in Geschichte
und Gegenwart should be considered as its successor. Produced
by J. C. B. Mohr (Paul Siebeck), which was Weber’s own pub-
lisher, it covered most of the material that the Realencyklopädie
had. Unfortunately, the editors did not believe that “Charisma”
or “Geistesgaben” warranted an entry (See Religion 1909–1913: I:
1628–1630; II: 1216–1218). Finally, in Weber’s own early writings
it rarely occurs; there are only two instances in which Weber uses
“charisma” in the Protestant Ethic and in both cases, it refers to
Zinzendorf’s comments on the charisma of the Apostolic dis-
ciples (Weber 2014: 334, 419).
Weber was notoriously indifferent to providing specifics for
his sources so it is an unexpected bonus for him to specifically
cite two of his sources for his conception of charisma. The two
sources were Rudolph Sohm and Karl Holl. Holl was a theolo-
gian and a church historian. Adolf Harnack regarded him as
one of the best historians of the church, not only because Holl
knew its entire history, but especially because he understood it
in its different manifestations. While he became famous for his
book on Luther, he had already established a name for himself
with his book on the Greek monks (Harnack 1930: 275–278, 282,
288). This book, Enthusiasmus und Bußgewalt beim griechischen
Mönchtum. Ein Studie zu Symeon dem neuen Theologen, was
cited by Weber in the First Part of Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft.
There, Weber pointed out that Holl not only recognized the
importance that the concept of charisma had in the earlier years
of the church, but that he had shown that the charismatic leader
demanded a different form of obedience than did the other types
of authority.3 Holl suggested that those who possessed charisma
were to be particularly honored and that they should be obeyed
because to obey them was the same as to obey Christ (See Holl
 CHARISMA 135

1898: 163–165). Holl also noted that the monks never had the
intention to go beyond their own sphere of spiritual competency
but that charisma possessed its own authorization. As a result,
the monks who had charisma had the capacity to judge others
and to show them the right path to take (Holl 1898: 314).
As much as Karl Holl contributed to Weber’s understand-
ing of charisma, it was Rudolph Sohm whom he credited the
most. Weber expressly cites Sohm in four different works: in
Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft, in “Die drei reinen Typen der legiti-
men Herrschaft,” in the lecture “Probleme der Staatsoziologie,”
and in his Munich course on “Staatssoziologie” (Weber 2005a:
462, 735, 755; 2009c: 77–78; 2014: 454). Before examining these
passages, it is beneficial to understand who Sohm was and what
Weber thought of him.
Rudolf Sohm was not only an important historian of Canon
law, but he was also a well-regarded scholar of legal history and
jurisprudence. While at the university in Strassburg, Sohm pub-
lished his Institutionen des Römischen Rechts, and it was there
that Weber studied under him. While Sohm wrote on state law
and was quite influential, it was his writings on church law that
drew the most amount of attention. One in particular caused
considerable controversy and prompted a lengthy exchange
with Adolf Harnack. Harnack had written the long entry on
“Verfassung” for the third edition of the Realencyklopädie für
protestantische Theologie und Kirche and, in it, he emphasized
that the early Catholic Church held that Canon Law was impor-
tant for the administration of the community. Harnack granted
that this was a contentious thesis and that some Protestant schol-
ars believed that it was a radical distortion of the values of the
original church. He specifically mentioned Sohm’s contribution
to this debate and he suggested that Sohm was misinterpreting
the history of the early church (Harnack 1898: 509, 541–546).
Sohm replied the next year with his Wesen und Ursprung des
Katholizismus; there he argued that it was Harnack who erred
when he insisted that the Catholic Church was a natural out-
growth of early Christianity and he was mistaken when he
136 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

maintained that canon law was an integral part of it (Sohm 1912:

3–6). The problem could be traced to the different “types” of
churches. Sohm argues that the Catholic Church has a “visible”
Church, in contrast to the Protestants’ “invisible” Church.4 The
Catholic Church was visible through its buildings, its offices,
and it pageantry; the invisible church was where “two or three”
gathered in the spirit of Christ (Sohm 1912: 29, 49, 61). If these
were the only points of contention, then this disagreement could
be relegated to the ranks of a narrow, theological controversy.
However, it was far more than that; it was a point of dispute
over authority. Harnack maintained that the Catholic Church
believed that it needed canon law and hierarchical authority in
order to regulate and govern the community. Sohm countered
that this meant that authority rested in the hands of the Pope.
More than that, it meant that only the Pope could be a Christian
in the full sense of the term, and that the Pope had jurisdiction
over all aspects of human life. This meant jurisdiction not only
over church issues, but also over many others. For Sohm, the
claim to infallible authority excluded the possibility of “free
scholarship.” In short, this was a scholarly continuation of the
“Kulturkampf,” the fight between the Roman Catholic Church
and Bismarck’s Prussian state. The Catholics resented the
Protestants’ domination in political and cultural areas and they
insisted that they owed allegiance to the Church and to the Pope;
not to the state and to Bismarck’s officials. Sohm was contin-
uing some of this dispute, but his major focus was on how the
Catholic Church could not claim to be the legitimate successor to
early Christianity. Instead, it was Protestantism. Sohm’s overall
point was that the “constitution” (“Verfassung”) of the Catholic
Church was antithetical to the “constitution” of the early church.
The early church was not led by law, but by charisma. Charisma
was the God-given power to lead and the community was led by
charismatic leaders and not by some legal hierarchy (Sohm 1912:
50–56). This debate between Sohm and Harnack continued for
several years. In the end, it more or less died out.5 The debate is
fascinating because it pits two of the leading Protestant scholars
 CHARISMA 137

against each other, but it is relevant here because of its impact on

Weber and his developing interest in the concept of charisma.
In an important paper on Weber’s notion of charisma,
Thomas Kroll argued that Weber began to be interested in cha-
risma around 1910. He cites a letter that Weber wrote to Dora
Jellinek in which he discussed the role that charisma played in
the Stefan George circle (Kroll 2001: 50; Weber 1994: 360–361).
However, Kroll also argued that it was the debate between Sohm
and Harnack that prompted Weber to investigate the concept
of charisma (Kroll 2001: 51, 55–64). Whether this was the sole
impetus or just the primary one, it is evident by reading the older
parts of Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft that Weber was well on his
way to recognizing the importance of charisma in his writings
on authority. That is why it is important in the early portions
of that work as well as in the later; it is also why it becomes an
important focus in his Munich lecture course and in Die drei
reinen Typen der legitimen Herrschaft. It is now time to turn
attention to the work that Weber repeatedly cites for his under-
standing of charisma.
In 1892, Sohm published the first volume of his Kirchenrecht.6
Its subtitle is “Die geschichtlichen Grundlagen” and it sig-
naled Sohm’s intention to set out the historical foundation for
canon law. He begins with early Christianity, moves through
Roman Catholicism, and concludes with the Reformation and
Protestantism. It is a massive book, totaling almost 700 pages;
however, what concerns us here is Sohm’s notion of charisma
that he developed in the first 60 pages. Sohm’s concern was with
the notion of the “church” (“Ekklesia”) and he maintained that
it was the collection of all Christians. He emphasized in partic-
ular the “people” (“Volk”) nature of this assembly (Sohm 1923:
26–21). The question then becomes, how was the “Ekklesia” orga-
nized? For the early Christians, the head was God (Christ) so the
power in the “Ekklesia” resides in the name of Christ. If Christ
is the head of the “Ekklesia” then the actual community is the
body; and the body responds to the word of Christ (Sohm 1923:
22–23). This holy word is sufficient for the organization of the
138 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

“Ekklesia”; it is a moral imperative. There is no need for force or

compulsion, so there is no need, and no place, for canon law. In
place of the book of laws, there is the word of God (Sohm 1923:
25–26). Sohm concludes that the “Ekklesia” is no legal organi-
zation, but, rather, a charismatic organization (Sohm 1923: 26).
It is a charismatic organization because its members are called
to service and it is the power of charisma that demands recog-
nition. This demand is not based on laws and duties, but on
love and the “free obedience” (Sohm 1923: 27). It is a command
from the “spirit” (“Geist”) of God and its power lies in the words
and not in any human (legal) force (Sohm 1923: 28–29, 54, 66).
Many of these points will be found in varying degrees in Weber’s
explanation of charisma. For Sohm, charisma was a means to
explain how Roman Catholicism, with its canon law, was a radi-
cal departure from the beliefs of the early Christians. Moreover,
by extension, he could make the claim that Protestantism was
the true successor to the early church. For Weber, the origins of
charisma were found in the church, but his concern with it far
exceeded Sohm’s specific theological preoccupations. For Weber,
charisma was one of the three important components of his soci-
ology of authority (“Herrschaftssoziologie”).
Scholars have long recognized the important role that
“Herrschaftssoziologie” played in Weber’s overall sociology, but
there have been many problems in understanding what Weber
meant by the term and what role it played in his political think-
ing. These issues are extremely important, but for the most part,
they are beyond the scope of this chapter. However, certain points
need to be clarified in order to understand what Weber meant by
charisma. “Herrschaft” is not only one of the most important
concepts in Weber’s sociology, but it one of those that is difficult
to define, much less translate. Weber himself maintained that it
was “one of the most important elements in societal interactions”
(“ist eines der wichtiges alles Gemeinschaftshandeln”) and he
defined in the following way: “Herrschaft is the likelihood that a
specific person will obey an order containing a specific content.”7
Weber believed that “Herrschaft” meant that people would follow
 CHARISMA 139

the will of the leader and would obey the leader’s orders (Weber
2005a: 135). Different translators have rendered it “domination,”
“rule,” “leadership,” or “authority.” Each of these translations has
something to recommend it, and this is partially true because
each translation captures one aspect of “Herrschaft.” First,
“domination” contains Weber’s belief that “‘the rule of man over
man’ is an inescapable fact of human existence” and is a central
tenet of Weber’s thinking (Weber 1992a: 160; Lassman 2000: 83).
Second, “authority” is somewhat ambiguous in English; it can
either mean the governing by the enforcement of rules or it can
mean the following of instructions because of the respect for the
authority. The notion of “leadership” is only partially applicable
in the first instance, but it is wholly a part of the second. We may
obey the law, but we respect authority.8 Accordingly, most of the
time I will leave it untranslated, but when I do, it will be trans-
lated differently, according to Weber’s use.
A major issue in Weber’s “Herrschaftssoziologie” is what he
means by “legitimate.” He sometimes distinguishes between
“domination” by force or by threat of force. This is what he does
in Politik als Beruf. In this speech Weber specifically addresses
the notion of the state and he grants that Trotsky’s assertion
that “every state is founded upon force” (“Jeder Staat wird auf
Gewalt gegründet”) is in fact correct. Weber continues by saying
that the state has the “monopoly [on] legitimate physical force”
(“Monopol legitimer physischer Gewaltsamkeit ”). (Weber 1992a:
158–159). However, his concern here is with the state, so there is
an equivalence between “legality” and “legitimacy.”9 There is no
doubt that Weber’s concern was often the state so that implied
legality but his more central concern was with legitimacy. That is
why Andreas Anter was correct to insist that “legitimacy: it is the
Archimedean point of his sociology of authority” (“Legitimität:
Sie ist der archimedische Punkt seiner Herrschaftssoziologie.”)
(Anter 1996: 62). Anter also correctly claims that the notion of
legitimacy played virtually no important role in any writing on
the concept of the state and that since Weber almost everyone
who investigates the nature and function of the state needs to
140 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

address the issue of legitimacy (Anter 1996: 64–65). It is also

true in any discussion of rule or leadership and it is applica-
ble to Weber’s own “Herrschaftssoziologie.” Like the term
“Herrschaft,” “legitimacy” means different things with respect
to the different types of “Herrschaft,” but its core meaning is
the justification and the means by which it supports its claim
(Weber 1992a: 160). It is important to bear in mind that Weber
rarely writes about “Herrschaft,” but almost always about “legit-
imate” “Herrschaft.”10
There are three types of pure domination/rule, authority. They
are traditional, legal (or bureaucratic), and charismatic. Weber
tends to explain something by noting first what it is not and by
contrasting it with other things; his “Herrschaftssoziologie” is a
prime example of this approach. Rather than simply stating what
charisma is, Weber writes about the other two types. The old-
est type of “Herrschaft” is tradition. In Politik als Beruf Weber
does not say much about traditional “Herrschaft,” but what he
does say is important. He states that traditional domination is
based upon the reverence for the holy “Sitte.” “Sitte” is some-
thing more than “convention” because it demands even greater
respect.11 That is why Weber refers to the authority of “eternal
laws” (“ewige Gestrigen”). The likely reference is to a section on
“Sittlichkeit” in Hegel’s Grundlinien der Philosophie des Rechts.
Hegel wrote that “als ewiges Gesetz, von dem niemand weiß, von
wannen es erschien” and he specifically links it with Antigone’s
piety for the ancient laws.12 It is possible that a few of them would
have recognized the reference to Hegel, but it is likely that most
of the people in Weber’s audience would have caught the refer-
ence to Antigone. Weber’s point is two-fold: first, that “Sitte” and,
even more so, law is permanent and that its origins are so far in
the past that no one knows when they actually came into being.
Second, that “Sitte” and law differ from “custom” or “habit” by
demanding reverence that is partially based upon their perma-
nence and their unknown origins.
Weber had made these and other important points in the sec-
tion on “Herrschaft” in Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft. There, he
 CHARISMA 141

wrote of the “‘ewige Gestrigen’” (“eternal law”), the “Pietät der

Tradition” (“piety of tradition”), and the “‘heiligende’ Macht der
Tradition” (“‘holy’ power of tradition”) (Weber 2005a: 251, 257).
He acknowledged there were several different types of traditional
authority, but he focused primarily on two: patrimonialism and
feudalism. The first was primarily connected to the house-
hold and its head was the father. The man determined the rules
and demanded obedience, from his wife, his children, and his
slaves as well as the household helpers (Weber 2005a: 254–255).
Weber then expanded his discussion about patrimonialism to
the “state,” and argued that the leader insisted on the same type
of obedience. However, now his rule was not over just his fam-
ily but over his ministers and the court officials (Weber 2005a:
289–291). Weber contrasts the arbitrariness of the patrimonial
leader with the stability of the feudal leader (Weber 2005a: 380).
Weber made many of the same points in his later writings on
traditional “Herrschaft”; including how patriarchal domination
is the purest type and that it is the order of the family. However,
he added that the pious respect for tradition makes new laws
and new rules almost impossible and he stressed the impor-
tance of the wisdom that is contained in tradition. Yet, Weber
allowed that one of the distinguishing marks of tradition dom-
ination is its personal arbitrariness (Weber 2005a: 729–733). In
the “Staatssoziologie” Weber emphasized both parts of this: that
allegiance is owed to the person but it is because the person is part
of the tradition with its “eternal law” (“ewige Gestrige”) (Weber
2009c: 76–77, 82). In the First Part of Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft,
Weber clarifies how this is not really an opposition, by suggest-
ing that there are two realms in traditional “Herrschaft.” On the
one hand, there is the sphere in which the leader is bound by
tradition and cannot enact anything new; on the other hand,
there is the sphere that lies outside of tradition and it is here that
the leader has free reign to do as he pleases (Weber 2014: 468–
469, 486, 489). As Weber discussed traditional “Herrschaften”
he noted that there were different manifestations but that the
two main types, patrimonialism and patriarchal, share the belief
142 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

in the importance of the eternal law and how that regulates the
leader’s behavior. Nevertheless, he also insisted that there was a
high degree of freedom for the leader to follow his own desires,
as long as they did not come into conflict with traditional beliefs
and practices. One of the most important marks of traditional
“Herrschaft” is the emphasis on the personal; one of the most
important characteristics of bureaucratic “Herrschaft” is the
emphasis on the impersonal.
Weber emphasized the impersonal of the bureaucratic
“Herrschaft” in a number of ways. The first way was his empha-
sis on rules and laws (Weber 2005a: 157, 159). These rules meant
the decisions would always, or for the most part, be “calculable
rules” (“berechenbaren Regeln”) (Weber 2005a: 186–187). That
is, one could count on the likelihood that the rule would be
enforced, and in an impartial way. The second way that Weber
emphasized the impersonal was his discussion of the training
involved. The bureaucratic official became one after choosing
his “calling” and then undergoing an often lengthy and intensive
training (Weber 2005a: 160, 229–230). The third way that Weber
emphasized the impersonal was in his comparison between
the efficiency of the bureaucratic office and a machine. Weber
set out the characteristics in the following manner: Precision,
speed, continuity, lack of ambiguity, and lack of friction (Weber
2005a: 185). In other words “competency” (Weber 2005a: 157).
The fourth way that Weber emphasized the impersonal was his
insistence that the bureaucrat’s own beliefs or feelings played no
part in his official decisions. The bureaucrat needed to follow the
rule regardless of personal inclinations, that is, “‘without regard
for the person’” (“‘Ohne Ansehen der Person’”) and “‘without
anger and without love’” (“‘sine ira ac studio’”).13 Or, as Weber
put it in the First Part of Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft, the offi-
cial must do his duty “without hate or passion” (“ohne Haß und
Leidenschaft”) so without “‘love’” and “‘enthusiasm’” (“‘Liebe’
und ‘Enthusiasmus’”) (Weber 2014: 466). Weber concludes his
discussion of bureaucratic authority in the “Herrschaft” section
of Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft by noting that is impersonal and
 CHARISMA 143

contains “rule, goal, means” (“Regel, Zweck, Mittel”). Weber con-

tends that bureaucratic structure is a late phenomenon and that
it represents the increasing rationalism in modern life (Weber
2005a: 234).
There is little doubt among Weber scholars that one of the
most important sociological discoveries was his uncovering of
the importance of the rise of Western rationalism. Because of
this, most scholars have believed that his interest in the notion
of rationalism was a life-long one. There is much to be said for
this position, but there is also evidence that Weber became
increasingly more preoccupied with rationalism during the last
decade of his life. I will try to explain the reasons for thinking
below; for now, the focus is on Weber’s later thinking regarding
bureaucratic authority.
Weber made many of the same points in his later writings as
he did in his section on “Herrschaft” that dated from the ear-
lier portion of Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft. He emphasized rules
and, by this, he meant that they could be regulations, rules, or
laws (Weber 2005a: 727, 1992a: 160–161, 2014: 457, 2009c: 79). He
also stressed “competency” (Weber 2005a: 726, 1992a: 160, 2014:
456, 461, 2009c: 78–79). He emphasized that it was a “vocation”
and that the officials were trained (Weber 2005a: 726, 2009c:
80–812). In the First Part of Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft, Weber
places even more emphasis on specialized education and train-
ing, and stresses that the students must pass rigorous examina-
tions. Those who do complete the training are often awarded
diplomas (Weber 2014: 457, 461, 465). He also emphasized the
machine-like qualities of the bureaucrat: precision, steadiness,
discipline, and dependability (Weber 2014: 463). Weber stressed
that the ideal was that one should make decisions without any
influence that stemmed from personal motives or from feelings.
The official should be free from any inclination toward arbitrari-
ness and, as a result, his decisions should be “calculable.” Finally,
the decisions should be made without “regard for the person”
(“ohne Ansehen der Person”) and should be made “without
anger or love” (“sine ira et studio”).14 Finally, Weber underlined
144 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

the formality of bureaucratic authority with its formal, rational

rules (Weber 2014: 467).
It is in his Staatssoziologie where Weber contrasts patrimoni-
alism and bureaucratic “Herrschaft”: the former lacks (1) com-
petency, (2) the firm hierarchy, (3) the firm position, (4) the need
for formal training, and (5) the steady income that the official can
continuously count on (Weber 2009c: 84–85). These five points
have one thing in common: a sense of permanency. And that
is one of the major characteristics that charisma lacks. Weber
maintains that charisma in its various forms possesses three pri-
mary characteristics, its extraordinariness, its personalness, and
its short-livedness.
Weber never tires of explaining that charisma is an “extraor-
dinary” power.15 Bureaucratic and traditional “Herrschaften”
are “ordinary”; charisma is specifically “extraordinary” (Weber
2014: 494). The first relies on the precedence of binding rules; the
second relies on the precedence of binding tradition. However,
charisma is the force that breaks rules and traditions; Weber
quotes from the Bible: “it is written—but I say to you”) (“es steht
geschrieben—ich aber sage euch”) (Weber 2005a: 468). Charisma
breaks apart even families; it turns children away from parents
(Weber 2005a: 482). Charisma is neither regular nor old, it is
something extraordinarily new. In “Die drei reinen Typen der
legitimen Herrschaft” Weber captures that when he wrote that
charisma is “Die ewig Neue, Außerwerktägliche” (“The eternally
new, out of the ordinary workday”). It is announced as a “new
command” (“neue Gebot”) (Weber 2014: 494). It is a “revelation”
(“Offenbarung”), a “message” (“Sendung”) or an “inner task”
(“innere Aufgabe’”). It is, a specific “calling” (“‘Beruf’”) (Weber
2014: 494–495). As such, the possessor of charisma is held to a
higher standard, regardless of what type of charismatic person
he is.
Weber frequently connects charismatic leader to the magician.
For one example, in the section of “Religiöse Gemeinschaften”
devoted to the development of religion Weber says that the
magician has charisma and this special power marks him off
 CHARISMA 145

from regular people (Weber 2001: 124). Later, Weber notes

that the person who possesses “magical charisma” (“magische
Charisma”) is different from the others because it is an indica-
tion that the possessor has been reborn (Weber 2001: 305; see
also 242). In another section Weber differentiates between the
“charismatic magician” (“charismatische Zauberer”) and the
priest; the former has power through the individual gift while
the latter has it through the power of the office (Weber 2001:
158–159). Weber does stress the fact that the priest is not held
accountable when he is not successful; unlike the magician who
will likely face being put to death if he fails. The mark that he has
charisma is that he is successful, and it is an indication that he
has lost that gift when he fails (Weber 2001: 161).
Then there are the instances when Weber connects charisma
to both the magician and the war hero—each possesses a type
of charisma (Weber 2001: 305), and the military hero is simi-
lar to the magician in that the latter has a similar special power
that allows him to win key battles (Weber 2005a: 470). Finally,
the military hero retains the trust of his soldiers only so long as
he and they keep winning. After a defeat, the soldiers begin to
question that special power of their leader; after several defeats,
they may stop following him. Charisma is a special power and its
possessor is regarded as having it only so long as he is successful.
Once the person no longer is successful, then it seems that the
power has been withdrawn.
Like magic, charisma is similarly unusual, both in that it
rarely appears and that its appearances are extraordinary. In the
opening pages of the section on “Herrschaft,” Weber says that
the belief in charisma is the “dedication to the extraordinary”
(“Hingabe an das Außerordentliche”), but he does not emphasize
the extraordinariness of charisma (Weber 2005a: 148). It is when
Weber focuses on some of the religious and political aspects of
charisma that he begins to stress its extraordinariness. He does
so by referring to it as a “going beyond everydayness, supernatu-
ral, godly force” (“ überalltäglichen, übernatürlichen, göttlichen
Gewalt”) (Weber 2005a: 559). In the Religiöse Gemeinschaften
146 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

section of Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft Weber emphasizes how

extraordinary charisma is, and he does so about different forms
of religious practices, but especially about charisma itself (Weber
2001: 122, 403). However, it is in his later writings that Weber
repeatedly emphasizes the extraordinariness of charisma. In Die
drei reinen Typen der legitimen Herrschaft he refers to charis-
matic authority as “a specifically extraordinary” (“eine spezi-
fisch außeralltäglich ”) social relation (Weber 2005a: 739). In the
Staatssoziologie Weber refers to charisma as being extraordinary
numerous times (Weber 2009c: 78–79, 90–93). In the First Part of
Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft Weber lists extraordinariness as one
of “charismatic characteristics” (“Charismatischen Charakters”)
(Weber 2014: 453). He repeats that it is extraordinary several
more times (Weber 2014: 490, 494, 497, 503, 528).
That charisma is extraordinary is suggested by how infre-
quently charismatic people appear. Weber insisted that the char-
ismatic figure appeared only in times of extreme trouble; during
times of political or social unrest, or during times of extreme
economic upheaval. The charismatic leader comes during these
times of crisis and when the traditional (or bureaucratic) domi-
nation appears unable to deal adequately with a problem. These
are the times in which the charismatic leader appears. To put it
differently: extraordinary problems call for leaders with extraor-
dinary powers (see Weber 2005a: 420, 2014: 492). Unlike the typ-
ical bureaucrat or even the traditional leader, the person who has
charisma is not just different; he has been chosen, singled out, or
even anointed, to lead.
A second way in which charisma is extraordinary is how the
individual gains the charismatic power. Sohm had maintained
that it was a gift of grace from God, but suggested that all true
Christians had it. Weber followed Sohm with his insistence that it
was rare, but he departed from Sohm’s claims about its widespread
usage. According to Weber, only those few who were specifically
chosen were given the gift of grace (“Gnadengabe”) (Weber 2005a:
148, 489, 517, 527, 530, 734, 2014: 490). It comes to those few and
only during those extraordinary times (Weber 2005a: 489).
 CHARISMA 147

Weber maintained that charisma was a “personal gift” and he

contrasted it with the other two types of “Herrschaften.” First,
concerning the “personal,” legal or bureaucratic “Herrschaft” is
always and completely impersonal. The rules and laws are imper-
sonal, the application of them is impersonal, and the people who
apply them are impersonal. Of course, Weber was speaking the-
oretically and he recognized that those people who develop the
rules and laws as well as the people who apply and enforced them
are not always able to maintain the impartiality that imperson-
alness implies. Nonetheless, Weber’s point is that bureaucratic
“Herrschaft” is impersonal.
Traditional “Herrschaft” can be considered a combination
of the impersonal and the personal (Weber 2009c: 76–77). It
is impersonal in the sense that tradition transcends ages and
makes the traditional leader much like the bureaucrat. Whereas
the bureaucrat is constrained by lawful rules and laws, the tra-
ditional leader is constrained by the “eternal rules” of tradition.
However, unlike the bureaucrat the traditional leader is often
free to impose his arbitrary will on his followers.
Addressing the second part; charisma is a “gift,” and the car-
rier or bearer of this gift is responsible to the giver; whether it
comes from the “voice of God” or through some personal mis-
sion (Weber 2005a: 467). Weber continuously stressed the per-
sonalness of charisma (Weber 2005a: 467–469, 739, 1992a: 161,
2009c: 90–91, 2014: 453, 490). Finally, it is only the charismatic
leader who has real personal authority (Weber 2014: 453–454).
Weber rarely tires of contrasting the extraordinariness of
charisma with the ordinariness of bureaucratic and traditional
“Herrschaften.” In the section, “Religiöse Gemeinschaften”
Weber writes of religion as an institution. As such it is part of
everyday life; whether it is the religious function or its connec-
tions to everyday habits, everyday interests, or the conduct of
everyday life (Weber 2001: 314–315, 319; see 306–307). In par-
ticular, the charismatic leader is an extraordinary leader and
is not just indifferent to ordinary economic concerns. Rather,
the charismatic leader is a threat to them; Weber insisted, “Pure
148 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

charisma is specifically economically alien.” (“Reines Charisma

ist spezifisch wirtschaftsfremd.”) (Weber 2005a: 488, 2014: 495).
However, it is partially because it is economically alien that it
cannot be sustained and is short lived.
Charisma is extraordinarily short-lived compared to the
seeming permanence of tradition and the long-term usage of
bureaucratic rules. In a rather powerful passage, Weber dis-
cussed the fact that charisma tends to carry the seeds of its own
destruction. He wrote:

In this way each charisma finds itself [moving] from a stormy-

emotional economically-alien life to a slow suffocating death
under the weight of the material interests during each hour of its
life and indeed in increasing measure with each growing hour.16
Aus diesem Weg von einem stürmisch-emotionalen wirtschafts-
fremden Leben zum langsamen Erstickungstode unter der Wucht
der materialen Interessen befindet sich aber jedes Charisma in
jeder Stunde seines Daseins und zwar mit jeder weiteren Stunde
in steigendem Maße. (Weber 2005a: 488–489)

Before explaining this passage, it is important to note that cha-

risma fails because of two different causes. The first is when
the charismatic leader loses his extraordinary power. Recall
that charisma differs from the allegiance to tradition and the
adherence to rules in that it is the recognition of the person’s
charismatic powers. It is “valid” only insofar as the followers
“recognize” the power. Weber notes that this is not a ground
of legitimization like the other two types. Rather, it is the psy-
chological recognition that comes from either necessity or from
hope. The problem comes when the charismatic leader fails to
perform miracles, fails to win battles, or somehow loses his ded-
ication to his task (Weber 2014: 492). When this occurs, there
is usually no question about a form of continuation. The sec-
ond is when it is necessary for someone to take over the role
of the charismatic leader. Normal methods governing succes-
sion cannot apply, because there are no traditions to invoke,
 CHARISMA 149

nor are there rules to follow, and it cannot be learned, so the

issue is how can charismatic authority be passed along? (Weber
2014: 504). Weber offers six variations for succession: (1) a suc-
cessor can arise through the recognition of the characteristics,
(2) through a new revelation or a similar announcement of the
successor, (3) through the recognition of the individual who has
been appointed by the old charismatic leader, (4) through the
recognition of the individual chosen from the charismatic lead-
er’s “staff” (“Stab”), (5) through the recognition that the indi-
vidual is the true offspring of the leader. This can be through
the blood relationship or through some other indication that
the successor is legitimate because he belongs to the clan and
carries some special trait. Weber refers to this last as the “inher-
ited charisma” (“Erbcharisma”) (Weber 2014: 498–501). Weber
pointed out that the person who has “Erbcharisma” totally
lacks personal charisma and that the concept of “Grace of God”
(“Gottesgnadentums”) has a totally altered sense (Weber 2014:
501–502), or (6) through the recognition of the successor which
has been appointed by the “office.” Weber referred to this as
“Amtscharisma” and again, there is no longer any recognition of
any personal charisma (Weber 2014: 502). The last two indicate
the problem that Weber alluded to in the above-quoted passage;
that charisma is unable to maintain its extraordinariness in the
face of everyday demands.
Weber had insisted that charisma is specifically alien to nor-
mal economic needs, but the above-noted passage indicates how
the followers of the charismatic leader begin to be worn down
by the needs of everyday living. What they begin to want is a
“routinization” of the charismatic life; and that implies the “nor-
malization” of charisma. This process of the “normalization
of charisma” is what Weber refers to as “Veralltäglichung des
Charisma” and it is the process by which the economically-alien
aspects of charisma are replaced by a more conventional method
of covering economic needs (Weber 2005a: 503–507).
Weber named a number of historical individuals whom he
believed had the power of charisma and the list ranged from
150 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

magicians to religious figures and from demagogues to politi-

cians. Weber suggested that the first charismatic people were
magicians (“Zauberer”) and that they had “‘magic’ charisma”
(“‘magischen Charismata’”) (Weber 2001: 124, 157, 305, 317).
They possessed a special charismatic type of magic that sepa-
rated them from normal, everyday human beings. The “char-
ismatic magician” had the power of a personally given gift of
charisma. The “charismatic magician” had the power to influ-
ence the gods and nature (Weber 2001: 161).17
Weber believed that there were a number of religious fig-
ures that possessed charisma. These included some of the Old
Testament Prophets.18 Jesus and Saint Francis were regarded as
possessing charisma (Weber 2001: 318–319, 2005a: 465–466).
Charisma was not restricted to Judaic-Christian individuals,
but could be found in other religions, like the Buddha. These
also included figures that Weber did not have a high regard for,
including the Dalai Lama, and more so Joseph Smith, the foun-
der of the Mormon Church (Weber 2001: 216, 2005a: 461, 740).
Although the concept of charisma was originally applied
to religious individuals, Weber demonstrated that it was also
applicable to a wide range of leaders. Some were war heroes
who were considered to be charismatic, and it was by winning
battles that they convinced their followers that they did indeed
possess extraordinary powers (Weber 2001: 204, 301). Some of
these charismatic leaders led by the power of their deeds; oth-
ers led simply by the force of their words. Weber had in mind
some of the great demagogues, and he included Pericles in this
group. However, Pericles appeared to lead by virtue of both his
military abilities and his speeches. While he was highly regarded
because of his military prowess, it was the power of his speeches
that earned him fame in his own time and secured a place in his-
tory (Weber 1992a: 161).
Finally, there were the modern charismatic leaders. William
Gladstone was one of Weber’s examples of the political leader
who was charismatic (Weber 2005a: 512, 1992a: 209). Weber
regarded the poet Stefan George as a remarkably charismatic
 CHARISMA 151

person (Weber 2005a: 465 n. 14; see also 41–42, 456). While some
of these charismatic figures acted rationally, their charisma was
irrational. Repeatedly, Weber stressed this fundamental differ-
ence between the charismatic person and the bureaucratic (and
even traditional) individual (Weber 2005a: 462, 468).
Weber began to recognize the importance of rationality ini-
tially, while he was writing the Protestant Ethic. However, his
interest in it continued to develop so that toward the end of his
life, he believed that it was one of the most important transfor-
mations that the world had ever seen. In Wissenschaft als Beruf,
he set out the two major innovations in the development of ratio-
nality. The first was Socrates’s discovery of the concept. Weber
suggested that this discovery was the greatest means for all sci-
entific knowledge, but he also complained that it led to some less
than stellar positions. First, he objected to Plato’s claim that there
could be a concept of the Beautiful, or the Good, and he com-
plained that Plato helped introduce the notion that there is “the
eternal truth” (“die ewige Wahrheit”) (Weber 1992a: 89). Weber
maintained that the second greatest “instrument” (“Werkzeug”)
for scientific work came during the Renaissance and was the dis-
covery of the rational experiment (Weber 1992a: 90). However,
Weber objected that both inventions led to a frustrating and
fruitless chase, that is, the striving to find the “true way.” The
way to “true being” was replaced by the way to “true art.” That
was followed by the way to “true nature,” which was in turn fol-
lowed by the way to “true God.” Finally, there was the way to
“true happiness.”19 Weber’s point in Wissenschaft als Beruf was
that these two great discoveries (the concept and the rational
experiment) are simply tools. They are merely instruments that
help us; and we are mistaken to think that “science” can ever
provide meaning in our lives. Scientific advancements cannot
answer the critical questions: “What should we do? How should
we live?” (“Was sollen wir tun? Wie sollen wir leben?”) (Weber
1992a: 93). Weber does not dispute the importance of rationality
with its emphasis on clarity, precision, and patience. Moreover,
he insists that clarity is one of the three cardinal virtues that a
152 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

scholar should possess. Precision is part of the other two qual-

ities that the scholar/scientist should possess: technical knowl-
edge and methods of thinking (Weber 1992a: 81, 103). Patience is
also necessary: cold calculation and working days, months, and
even years on a project before it finally begins to form (Weber
1992a: 81–83). Weber insists that there is one additional thing
that is absolutely necessary for the scientist, and that is passion.
This explains why Weber insisted, “There is nothing worthwhile
for humans as humans unless he can do it passion.” (“Denn
nichts ist für den Menschen als Menschen etwas wert, was er
nicht mit Leidenschaft tun kann.”) (Weber 1992a: 81). Passion is
not just necessary for the scientist; it is also critical for the polit-
ical leader. In Politik als Beruf, Weber also has three important
characteristics necessary for the political leader: passion, the
sense of responsibility, and the perception of distance to peo-
ple and things (“Leidenschaft,” “Verantwortungsgefühl,” and
“Augenmaß ”) (Weber 1992a: 227). “Leidenschaft” is listed first
because it is the most important one to have. Having the sense of
responsibility is crucial, but Weber suggests that the true polit-
ical leader must have a combination of the “sense of responsi-
bility” (“Verantwortungsgefühl”) and the “ethics of conviction”
(“Gesinnungsethik”). That is, the true politician needs to adhere
to principles, but not at any price; he needs to be able to deter-
mine the possible ramifications of his action and even his non-
action. This is where “Augenmaß ” is important; it is the ability
to correctly maintain the distance of oneself to the matter at
hand. This is necessary so that one is not led to make wrong
decisions caused by the lack of a proper understanding of the sit-
uation. Weber suggests that these traits work to help avoid two
of the problems that face the political leader. The first is vanity,
which is the “deadly enemy” (“Todfeindin”), while the second
is one of the “deadly sins” (“Todsünden”) that leads to “ster-
ile excitement.” The first incites one to seek center stage while
the second encourages one to engage in pointless activities.
Finally, both “Verantwortungsgefühl” and “Augenmaß ” help
prevent one from either being a political dilettante or a reckless
 CHARISMA 153

revolutionary. Weber saw enough of both of these types toward

the end of the war and in its revolutionary aftermath (Weber
1992a: 226–229).
Weber was concerned that there are only two choices for poli-
tics in the modern age. Either the leaderless democracy in which
the “‘vocational politician’” (“‘Berufspolitiker’”) does his job. Or
it is the “leader democracy with ‘machine’” (“Führerdemokratie
mit ‘Machine’”).20 The first is when nameless bureaucrats run
the state with machine-like efficiency. While this sounds good
because decisions are made impartially, it is not how a state
should be run. That is because a state is neither a machine nor
a legal bureaucracy per se, but is greater than that. The bureau-
crat may be good at implementing rules in large measure because
when he is acting as an official he is being is apolitical. Weber
insists that the bureaucrat is specifically not pursuing poli-
tics and that, as an official, he is above all “not party-affiliated ”
(“unparteiisch ”) (Weber 1992a: 189). Officials are needed to make
the state function, but leaders are needed to give the state direc-
tion. Bureaucracy is the steady running of the state, but politics
deals with struggle. Bureaucracy is the determination and imple-
mentation of rules, but politics is a continuous struggle (Weber
1992a: 190). In a democracy, the people have chosen the leaders
and have entrusted them with the power to make decisions that
will affect all of their lives. According to Weber in Politik als Beruf,
people need to believe in their leaders, and this is where Weber
introduces the notion of charisma. The person who lives from
politics lacks the “calling” (“Beruf”), that is, he lacks the “inner,
charismatic qualities” (“innere, charismatische Qualitäten”) that
makes the leader (Weber 1992a: 224). Weber had begun to inves-
tigate the concept of charisma around 1910, but with the politi-
cal problems of the war years and after, he began to realized that
charisma was not just an unusual sociological phenomenon, but
that the charismatic leader was quite likely the best choice for the
political future. However, there is little doubt that Weber increas-
ingly recognized that charisma held a similar, but even more rev-
olutionary importance than did rationality.
154 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS IN WEBER’S SOCIOLOGY OF RELIGION

In the “Vorbemerkung” to the first volume of the Gesammelte

Aufsätze zur Religionssoziologie, Weber emphasized the impor-
tance of rationality for the development of the West. He granted
that certain types of knowledge were found throughout the world,
but that real science existed in the West. He cited the practice
of stargazing, which was found throughout the world but it was
not a “science” because it lacked the mathematical foundation
that the Greeks had given to astronomy. Similarly, the practice of
observation of nature was found throughout history, but it was
not until the time of the Renaissance and the rational experi-
ment that there could be the sciences of mechanics and physics.
Similarly, while the Chinese produced an exceptionally highly
developed written history, it did not have the pragmatic aspect
that Thucydides gave to the West. India had its political precur-
sor to Machiavelli, but it did not have the Aristotelian system nor
did it have the rational concept. Laws were found everywhere but
it was only in the West that Canon Law was developed. Weber
chose examples from art, architecture, and music to show the
contrast between the developed forms found only in the West
and those found throughout the rest of the world (Weber 1922b:
1–8). Weber’s primary concern was to draw attention to how cap-
italism could develop only in the West, and that is because it was
based upon rationalism. Calculability, predictability, law—each
of these were based upon rationalism (Weber 1922a: 10–12). In
his Staatssoziologie Weber drew the conclusion that rationalism
was one of the two greatest revolutionary powers in history, and
he said that it came from “outside.” The other great revolution-
ary power was charisma—and it came from “inside.”21 He does
not specifically say, but the implication is that rationalism made
the West possible for the economic success of capitalism, but
that charisma has been the force that has made political lead-
ership possible. Again, Weber did not specifically state this, but
it seems that he believed that the charismatic type of leadership
would continue to be the revolutionary force of the future.
Weber believed that rationality and charisma were antitheti-
cal; Weber believed that the former was a constant in the West,
 CHARISMA 155

at least as it developed from Plato, whereas he also believed that

charisma was a force that has been found in all of the religions in
the world and throughout history. Furthermore, he believed that
charisma is irrational and he contrasts the “practical soberness
of rationality” (“praktisch nüchterner Rationalismus”) with the
irrational ecstatic outbreaks of charisma (Weber 2001: 333, 337).
Charisma is no longer such a revolutionary concept; instead,
its meaning has been expanded to cover many senses of pop-
ularity. Virtually any political leader who seems to show pas-
sion is regarded as being charismatic.22 Similarly, almost every
actor and actress is regarded as having charisma, which leads
one to believe that being a celebrity means having charisma.
Furthermore, the notion of charisma has been extended into
everyday life. In his 2003 article, Stephen Turner had pointed
out that “charisma” has been “widely appropriated” and that has
been used as a name in a wide variety of businesses as well as a
personal name (Turner 2003: 6). The notion of charisma is now
far removed from its theological origins, and it has expanded
considerably since Weber drew so much attention to its socio-
logical aspects. The concept of charisma has apparently suffered
the same fate as has the power of charisma itself—it has been
appropriated by the everyday and the ordinary.23
 Notes

2 From Roman Agrarianism to Sociology of Religion

1. Ernest Troeltsch on natural law, A. Voight on economy and law,

and Hermann Kantorowicz on law and sociology. Verhandlungen
1911: 166–192, 249–265, 275–310.
2. To cite one important example, the journal Logos had the subtitle
International Journal for the Philosophy of Culture (Internationale
Zeitschrift für Philosophie der Kultur) and carried articles on phi-
losophy, economics, sociology, art, religion, history, among other
subjects.
3. Hartmut Lehmann claims that Weber had a rather high regard
for Sombart but that Sombart was not as impressed by Weber.
Lehmann also claims that Weber believed that he and Sombart
looked at different sides of the same coin. Lehmann (1993: 199,
203). For a recent and clear contrast, see Whimster (2006: esp. 322–
328). Whimster points out that Sombart relied too heavily on his
notion of hand work, and his idea of capitalism was not very dif-
ferent from the traditional acquisition of money for fame (also see
Lehmann 1993: 196–197). Hence, Sombart failed to understand
the shift from the medieval economy to the modern one and he
underestimated the radical emphasis of Protestantism on the sober
accumulation of money.
For Sombart’s own later views, see Sombart (1931a, b). In the
first place, he still insists that capitalism is the limitless striving
for riches regardless of any consequences. In the second place,
he has abandoned his earlier interest in the welfare of the worker
and instead is preoccupied with the German entrepreneur, tech-
nology, and imperialism. Weber and his Protestant Ethic are
ignored in the second work and in the first, are only mentioned
158 NOTES

in the references. Sombart (1931a: 258–259, 277, 1931b: 85–104).

See also Brocke (1987: 43).
4. Perhaps the biggest difference between Sombart and Weber is that
Sombart was always interested in the nature and the effects of cap-
italism while Weber was always concerned with the nature and
the genesis of capitalism. To say it slightly differently, Sombart’s
concern was ethical; Weber’s was scholarly. Anyone who doubts
this should read Sombart’s Das Proletariat. This short work was
published in Martin Buber’s series Die Gesellschaft in 1906, thus
one year after Weber published the second installment of the
“protestantische Ethik” in the Archiv für Sozialwissenschaft und
Sozialpolitik. Sombart describes the proletariat as having no home,
no money, and no future. The workers live in dark, cramped, and
unhealthy rooms in overcrowded and dirty cities. They suffer
from malnourishment and illnesses. Children have little or no
education. Factories employing older children, young women, and
men are noisy, filthy, and dangerous. If Weber describes “Beruf”
as a noble calling, for Sombart’s workers it is a hell on earth. See
Sombart (1906).
5. See Weber (2008: 35). One of the very few disappointments with
the Max Weber Gesamtausgabe volume devoted to the first edi-
tion of the Protestant Ethic is the lack of interest in the influence
that Offenbacher had on Weber (and vice versa). See Weber (2014:
46–49, 124–126, 128–130). My “Statistical Origins” paper had been
accepted long before the Protestant Ethic volume appeared, and it
finally appeared several months afterwards; thus, when I wrote
the paper, I did not have the opportunity to utilize that important
work. See Adair-Toteff (2015a). This disappointment is important
to note because Schluchter has repeatedly pointed out how fre-
quently Weber carried his earlier interests into his later writings
about capitalism. See Schluchter (1979: 16 n. 3).
6. Weber (1993: 556). Bismarck had closed the frontier, but when he
resigned, his successor Leo Graf von Caprivi reopened it and allowed
more Polish workers to seek employment on the Prussian estates.
Weber (1993: 555–556). See especially Wolfgang J. Mommsen’s and
Rita Aldenhoff-Hübinger’s footnotes to these pages as well as her
very helpful introductions to the Max Weber Gesamtausgabe vol-
umes for Weber’s lectures on labor and on agrarian politics. Weber
(2008, 2009b).
 NOTES 159

7. Confession and Social Class. A Study on the Economic Situation

of Catholics and Protestants in Baden. The title of Weber’s first
section is identical to Offenbacher’s title: “Konfession und soz-
iale Schichtung.” Weber (1996: 1). For a detailed account of
Offenbacher’s influence on Weber and the Protestant Ethic. See
Adair-Toteff (2015a).
8. Weber (1996: 1 n. 3; 2 n. 4, 5, 6; 3 n. 7–8; 4 n. 8, 9; 6 n. 11). Weber
expressly draws the connection between Catholics and Protestants
on the first page as well as referring to his earlier work on the
German East between Germans and Poles. This also explains the
references to the two Catholic authors (Hermann Schell and Georg
Freiherr von Hertling) in note 2.
9. See Simmel’s Die Religion and especially Troeltsch’s review of it.
Troeltsch appreciated Simmel’s detailed approach to the subject
of religion, but he argued that Simmel’s philosophical approach
robbed religion of its essential warmth. Simmel (1906); Troeltsch
(2004a: 522–526).
10. See the editorial comments in Troeltsch (2004b: esp. 62–67).
This volume contains all three versions of “Protestantisches
Christentum und Kirche in der Neuzeit.” The original is found in
Troeltsch (1906: 253–458).
11. For Troeltsch’s influence on Weber’s conception of religion see
the “Einleitung” to the volume on Religiöse Gemeinschaften; on
the friendship between the two Heidelberg thinkers see Friedrich
Wilhelm Graf’s contribution in Max Weber und seine Zeitgenossen.
Weber (2001: 7, 39, 467); Graf (1988).
12. Hartmut Lehmann wrote that it may be Weber’s most difficult
book, but it is certainly the most disputed one. He then men-
tions that two generations of scholars have argued about it. See
Lehmann (1996b: 9). We are getting close to three generations.
Gottfried Küenzlen noted that disputes erupted immediately after
it appeared and show no signs of abating. Küenzlen (1980: 9–10).
Also, see especially the “Vorwort” to Weber (2014: ix).
13. Weber was concerned with not just material factors but ideal ones,
and his account was both empirical and conceptual. See Ghosh
(2008: 193–196). Of course, the concerns here are on ideal factors
and especially concepts.
14. One way of helping to determine the differences is that in the
1904/1905 work Weber was investigating the possible causes for
160 NOTES

the development of modern capitalism whereas in his later writings

on the economic ethics of the world religions he was studying the
many ways they departed from Christianity: in their approaches
to question of salvation, their different ethics of conduct, and their
use, or lack of use, of rationality.
15. It seems that Weber’s comparative lack of interest could be traced
to his rejection of collective ideas and his lack of concern with the
ossification of ideas and interests that result in institutions.
16. It is important to keep in mind that when Weber writes about ideal
interests, he is neither making a claim for the better one, nor is he
making any kind of value judgment. Rather, he is using the term
“ideal” to differentiation those interests from material ones.
17. Turner writes of the “problem of cause and teleology” and con-
nects Weber with the noted jurist and legal scholar Rudolf von
Ihering. Turner also underscores Weber’s insistence that we can
never know with certainty either causes or goals but can write
about their subjective meaning. Turner (1991: 47–50, 55).
18. Schluchter attempts to minimize Weber’s emphasis on these two
sixteenth century theologians and instead tries to argue that
Weber’s real focus was on the seventeenth and eighteenth cen-
turies. I suggest that this is rather mistaken because the later
Churches and Sects build upon earlier thinking. The later groups
extend and modify notions first developed by Luther and by
Calvin. See Schluchter (2009a: 42). In contrast to Schluchter’s
view consider Stephen Turner’s observation that “The thesis of
the study [The Protestant Ethic] depends on the originality of
the conjuncture of the ideas ‘worldly callings’ and ‘predestina-
tion’.” Turner (1991: 56). Schluchter tends to dwell primarily on
the importance of rationalism for the development of the West;
Turner tends to focus on action and the roles that interest and
ideas play in it.
19. Material interests include food, shelter, and clothing but proba-
bly also money; ideal interests include power, prestige, and social
standing.
20. Weber (1996: 26–32; 2014: 141–177). For a highly informative
account of Weber’s use of “Geist” see Whimster (2006: 322–328).
21. Weber (2014: 184–190). For an account of the important function
that the notion of “work” (“Arbeit”) plays in Weber’s thinking see
Müller (2003).
 NOTES 161

22. The explanations given in the Introduction and in the footnotes

regarding Weber’s investigations into Luther’s translation of
“Beruf” are extensive and helpful. In contrast, Weber’s reliance
on Schneckenberger’s contrast between the radical Calvin and the
traditional Luther are limited and not that helpful. Yet, Weber spe-
cifically acknowledges that his account is taken primarily from
Schneckenberger and that he is convinced that the theologian was
correct in his estimation of Luther and Calvin. See Weber (2014:
201 n. 18, 304–307).
23. “Da Bücher ja—‘Entwicklungsstufen’—ganz unzugänglich ist, habe
ich eine geschlossene soziologische Theorie und Darstellung aus-
gearbeitet, welche alle großen Gemeinschaftsformen zur Wirtschaft
in Beziehung setzt: von der Familie und Hausgemeinschaft
zum ‘Betrieb’, zur Sippe, zur ethnischen Gemeinschaft, zur
Religion (alle großen Religionen der Erde umfassend: Soziologie
der Erlösungslehren und der religiösen Ethiken,—was Tröltsch
gemacht hat, jetzt f ür alle Religionen, nur wesentlich knapper.”
Weber (2003: 449–450).
24. “Man könnte das Jahr 1913 geradezu als das Jahr der Religion beze-
ichnen: . . . ” Schluchter (2009a: 72). In an earlier work, Schluchter
noted that in his 1909 plan for what would become Wirtschaft und
Gesellschaft, the notion of a sociology of religion did not yet exist.
When Weber wrote about such a topic he referred to it as an issue
of culture. See Schluchter (1985b: 530–531).
25. In the 1915 volume of the Archiv für Sozialwissenschaft und
Sozialpolitik that contains the “Einleitung” Weber notes that these
reflections are those that date back two years [1913], when he wrote
them down and read them to friends. He kept this as part of the
“Einleitung” to the 1920 book and it has been repeated in the Max
Weber Gesamtausgabe text. See Weber (1989: 236–238).
26. In an essay devoted to reconstructing Weber’s sociology of religion
Schluchter noted that in 1909, there was no sign of Weber’s inten-
tion to develop a sociology of religion. Schluchter (1985b: 530).
Hans G. Kippenberg argues that the beginning of Weber’s interest
in other religions can be dated to 1911, and he bases this in part on
a passage from Marianne’s biography of her husband. But, he notes
that the first fruit of these investigations is found in 1913 with the
section in Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft on religious communities.
See Kippenberg (2003: 214–215).
162 NOTES

27. Wolfgang Schluchter’s Die Entwicklung des okzidentalen

Rationalismus still remains the standard work. Schluchter (1979).
For some others see Swedberg (2005: 226–227).
28. Weber did not invent the phrase “world religions”; he adapted it
from Cornelius Petrus Tiele. See Weber (2001: 282 n. 42).
29. Johannes Weiß identified three periods in Weber’s life that reflected
differing reactions to religion. The first period was Weber’s child-
hood and school years, the second was during Weber’s connection
with the Evangelisch-Soziale Kongress (ESK) (Evangelical-Social
Congress), and the third, covered the remaining years of his
life and represented his final position on his personal religious
beliefs. As a young person Weber was certainly influenced by the
deep, genuine, and immediate religious beliefs of his mother, not
to mention by some of his other relatives. However, he was also
influenced by the worldly ways of his father who, while tolerating
his wife’s strong religious inclinations, did not share them. Weiß
(1975: 106–115). During the second phase Weber shared some of
the ethical convictions and supported some of the social work
that the ESK was engaged in, but he disagreed with some of their
major convictions and he believed that the attempt to combine the
spiritual beliefs with political action was bound to fail. See Weiß
(1975: 117–125). Finally, Weber believed that religion as a social-
economic factor was important to investigate but, as he wrote to
Tönnies, he did not have any basic inclination toward religious
beliefs. See Weiß (1975: 128–132).

3 Conceptual Influences and Developments

1. “Rickert habe ich aus. Er ist sehr gut, zum großen Teil finde ich
darin das, was ich selbst, wenn auch in logisch nicht bearbeiteter,
Form gedacht habe. Gegen die Terminologie habe ich Bedenken.”
Weber (1926: 273).
2. Von Schelting (1934: 71, 88, 232–233, 364); Henrich (1952: 28–29, 35);
Bruun (1972: 10–13, 201–213); Burger (1987: xv, xvii, 7–8, 10); Oakes
(1988: 6–11); Ringer (1997: 36–37). Oakes omitted everything after
“he is very good”, thus making it seem like Weber had no reservations
about Rickert’s methodology. Bruun has now partially rethought
Weber’s supposed appropriation of Rickert. Bruun (2001: 153–157).
 NOTES 163

3. Rickert (1929: xxiii–xxv, 757–758). Rickert dedicated the fifth edi-

tion to the memory of Max Weber. See also Rickert (1926: 228–229,
231–237). Rickert emphasized this when he claimed that Weber
never wanted to be a philosopher and, in fact, he was not one. The
remark was aimed at Karl Jaspers, who had argued that Weber was
one in the true sense, and not one in the pedantic sense of Rickert.
See Adair-Toteff (2002a: 15, 24–25, 28).
4. For a concise and helpful account of Rickert’s epistemology, see
Wagner and Zippian (2006: 161–170). They argue that Rickert’s
philosophy is too restrictive to provide Weber with a proper meth-
odology and they look instead to several legal theorists. I believe
that they are mostly right, but that their larger purpose is to exam-
ine Weber’s theory of references rather than my more limited focus
on the importance of concepts for him.
5. This is not the place to provide a full account of Weber’s meth-
odology; rather, it will be restricted to only the most relevant
points. Nor is this the place to offer a critique of the numerous
books that are devoted to Weber’s methodology. As Hans-Peter
Mü ller has noted, the number of books written on this topic
alone would fill a small library. Mü ller helpfully provides a list-
ing of the books that he has found most helpful. Mü ller (2007:
50–51).
6. For a general account of Neo-Kantianism see Adair-Toteff (2003);
for the particular focus on the Southwest School, see 37–40.
7. Kaube (2014: 148–151, 450 n. 9). Tenbruck was not the first to draw
attention to the connection between Weber and Eduard Meyer; Von
Schelting had done so in the 1930s. However, Von Schelting did not
properly understand Weber’s methodology nor did he adequately
discuss Meyer’s importance for Weber. See Von Schelting (1934:
270–275).
8. Tenbruck suggested that it was Meyer’s work that prompted Weber
to reconsider the old historical approach of developmental steps.
The “dogmatic slumber” is a reference to Kant’s claim that Hume
had woken Kant from his “dogmatic slumber.” Tenbruck (1999:
178–180, 189). The respect was mutual; Meyer added two footnotes
to the 1910 edition in which he acknowledges Weber’s thorough cri-
tique, which deserved thanks. In the second, Meyer acknowledged
that Weber was correct in his observation about the development
164 NOTES

of the Jews. It is worth bearing in mind that Weber made that

trenchant observation almost a decade before he embarked on his
study of ancient Judea. Meyer (1910: 21 n. 1, 55 n. 2).
9. “Die Fehler, die ein hervorragender Schriftsteller macht, sind
lehrreicher als die Korrektheiten einer wissenschaftlichen Null.”
Weber (1922a: 216).
10. In his introduction to the first volume of Lask’s Gesammelte
Schriften Rickert wrote of how Lask became his student and how
he devoted most of his scholarly efforts to solving problems of
knowledge and logic. Lask (1923: v–viii). Rickert dedicated the
fourth/fifth edition of his Der Gegenstand der Erkenntnis to Lask
and he explained how important Lask was for his own thinking in
the foreword to the third as well as again in the fourth/fifth edi-
tions. Rickert (1921: iii, xiii).
11. “begriffliche Schä rfe und wissenschaftliche Strenge” (Lask 1905:
29). The theme of conceptual clarity runs throughout the sec-
ond part of Lask’s essay (1905: 29, 31, 36, 40). It was also one of
Weber’s major foci in the “Objectivity” essay from the previous
year.
12. Weber (1990: 149–152, 592; 1994: 180–181, 198–201, 226; 1998:
37–38); König und Winckelmann (1963: 15–17).
13. Jellinek makes some similar points in the Prorector’s speech that he
gave at Heidelberg the following year. Titled “Der Kampf des alten
mit dem neuen Recht,” he likened the law’s sense of permanence to
the state’s language and customs. He also draws on Aeschylos’ play
“The Eumenides” to show the battle between the old laws and the
new. His point in the speech is to show that a new legal foundation
can and often does replace an old one, and while it is often a bitter
and painful change, it does happen. Jellinek (1911: 392, 395–398).
In his 1878 work Die Sozialethische Bedeutung von Recht, Unrecht
und Strafe Jellinek complained about those who insisted on regard-
ing the state as an organism and laws as “eternal, absolute” when
the “state” is composed of countless individuals who are con-
stantly interacting with each other and the law is influenced by
social, political, and economic considerations. Jellinek (1967: 7, 17,
42, 49, 51, 55).
14. In his early work Die sozialethische Bedeutung von Recht, Unrecht
und Strafe Jellinek did not have much appreciation for the impor-
tance of concepts. He spoke despairingly of Hegel’s abstract
 NOTES 165

concepts and maintained that they were artificial. He complained

that Hegel’s juridical disciples tended to see legal problems only
through the “glasses of concepts” (“Brille des Begriffes”) and that
they failed to recognize the importance of the flexibility in deter-
mining legal punishment. Jellinek (1967: 94). Jellinek underwent
a considerable change of heart and came to appreciate the funda-
mental importance that concepts had. Andreas Anter has properly
emphasized Jellinek’s influence on Weber.
15. Albrow (1990: 151). Sheldon Wolin insisted that ideal types are
“the most crucial instruments of social scientific inquiry” and that
they “illuminate reality” (Wolin 2006: 149). Ute Gerhard devotes
an entire book to a discussion of ideal types but she wants to make
it the basis for all sociology. She suggests that Weber and Simmel
developed it and then it was employed by Alfred Schütz and
Talcott Parsons. Leaving aside most of this, she makes the impor-
tant point that Weber’s notion of the ideal type did not have a good
start and even today, it does not have a good reputation. She cor-
rectly bemoans the fact that it is regularly misunderstood (Gerhad
2001: 12).
16. Müller (2007: 51) calls it a “Herzstück” or “heart piece.”
17. Weber makes clear that his latest account is fundamentally based
on his 1913 essay “Ueber einige Kategorien der verstehenden
Soziologie.” In light of this, I will focus primarily on the account
that is found in the “First Part” of Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft,
because that was Weber’s final and most authoritative account of
ideal types. See Swedberg (1998: 189).
18. “Er ist nicht eine Darstellung des Wirklichen, aber er will der
Darstellung eindeutige Ausdrucksmittel verleihen.” Weber
(1922b: 190).
19. Weber (2013a: 172). He also directs the reader’s attention to the
“Objectivity” essay.

4 Asceticism and Mysticism

1. For a general discussion of asceticism, see Adair-Toteff (2015c) and

the references included in that article. For discussions of Weber’s
own conception of asceticism, see Adair-Toteff (2010) and Treiber
(2001).
166 NOTES

2. Volkhard Krech was one of the few scholars who wrote on Weber’s
mysticism but his focus was mostly on the scholarly background
of mysticism and in particular on the mystery religions. See Krech
(2001: esp. 242–256).
3. Denifle was never regarded as an objective scholar and the best exam-
ple of his lack of scholarly interest is his attempt to discredit Luther
in his Luther und Luthertum. See Denifle (1906). Ernst Troeltsch
complained that Denifle was simply an apologist for Catholicism
and that he rejected his claim that mysticism and Catholic scholasti-
cism belonged together. Similarly, he could not agree with Harnack’s
assertion that anyone who claims to be a mystic without being a
Catholic is only a dilettante. Troeltsch (1912: 860).
4. Johannes Tauler, Predigten. Jena: Verlag bei Eugen Diederichs. 1913.
5. Troeltsch regarded Preger’s Geschichte der deutschen Mystik as
one of the greatest main works in Church history. Troeltsch (1912:
859–860 n. 471).
6. For Troeltsch’s complex relationship with Ritschl see Chapman
(2001: 14–17, 94–96).
7. Ritschl (1893: 79, 83). Although Ritschl does not mention it, the
contrast between the visible church and the invisible church can
be traced back to Johannes Tauler. See Preger (1893: 225–232).
8. This is shown in a number of Troeltsch’s writings and especially in
his Soziallehren as well as in his Augustin.
9. Chapman insists correctly that Troeltsch believed that Luther was
very much a part of the Middle Ages and that Luther developed a
doctrine of “unio mystica.” Chapman (2001: 28, 37). A compar-
ison between Weber’s and Troeltsch’s view of Luther’s conserva-
tive mysticism would be instructive if for no other reason than to
highlight the differences between their outlooks on life; Troeltsch’s
belief in the positive and creative power of Christianity appears to
transcend Weber’s highly critical and rather pessimistic attitude.
For this last contrast, see Chapman (2001: 178–182).
10. The editors to the volume containing Politik als Beruf note that
this is a variation on the words that Luther supposedly uttered at
Worms. They give the quotation as “Ich kan nicht anders, hie stehe
ich, Got helff mir, Amen” and the further note that the quotation
is disputed. Weber (1992: 250 n. 151).
In Politik als Beruf Weber distinguishes between
“Gesinnungsethik” and “Verantwortungsethik,” where the former
 NOTES 167

acts only by conviction and does not consider the results of his
actions while the latter is guided primarily by the foreseeable con-
sequences of his actions. Weber stated that these two types of ethics
are fundamentally opposed but he allows that there are instances
where there is some overlap. Luther is used here as someone who is
able to follow both types of ethics.
11. Here is not the place to determine how historically valid Weber’s
claims are. It is sufficient to note that he never claimed that it was
totally accurate, only that it was more than just a probable claim. It
is also important to remember that he based his assumption upon
the findings of some of the best scholars who had investigated the
topic. Weber (2014: 180–184).
12. It is unclear whether Tauler and Seuse actually studied under
Eckhart but there are fairly good reasons supporting the claim that
Tauler did. Gohrs (1907: 451, 455); Haas (1987: I); McGinn (1998:
x, 301). Bernard McGinn discusses the differences between Tauler,
Seuse, and Eckhart at considerable length in the fourth volume of
his history of Christian mysticism. McGinn (2005: 240–244, 254,
258–259, 271).
13. “Sinne der Berufung zum ewigen Heil durch Gott” (Weber 2014:
183 n. 40). Compare Weber’s similar point about remaining in one’s
“Beruf” “(κλήσις)” in the section titled Religiöse Gemeinschaften
from Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft. Weber (2001: 447 and n. 66).
14. These include Schopenhauer and Nietzsche, and more relevantly,
Hermann Siebeck and Troeltsch.
15. Breuer seems unsure of his claim because he says that if he “has
read it right,” there is no mention yet in the Protestant Ethic. (“In
der Protestantsismusstudie ist, wenn ich richtig gelesen habe, von
Weltablehnung noch nicht die Rede”). Breuer (2001: 227). Breuer
was mistaken and Weber does specifically employ the term “und
der Einschlag von radikaler Welt-Ablehnung.” Weber (2014:
200).
16. “Wenn etwa die Verworfenen über das ihrige als unverdient klagen
wollten, so wäre das ä hnlich, als wenn die Tiere sich beschweren
w ürden, nicht als Mensch geboren zu sein.” Weber (2014: 258).
17. “Ich weiß wohl, daß der Name Junker süddeutschen Ohren
unfreundlich klingt. Man wird vielleicht finden, ich spräche eine
‘preußische’ Sprache, wenn ich ein Wort zu ihren Gunsten sage. I
w üßte nicht.” Weber (1993: 563).
168 NOTES

18. See Adair-Toteff (2002b: 351). I am now inclined to think that this
was more Marianne’s wishful thinking than an actual reflection of
Weber’s personal views. Nonetheless, I can understand that there
must have been occasions when Weber became too weary of his
pessimistic heroism and wished that he could flee the world into a
mystical union.

5 Prophets and Pariah-People

1. It is the fourth section from a total of twelve and the section is

found between pages 177 and 194. At seventeen pages, it is longer
than five others. There are only three that are much longer and
two of them are the introductory section (“Die Entstehung der
Religionen”) and the concluding section (“Die Kulturreligionen
und die ‘Welt’”).
2. “Wir wollen hier unter einem ‘Propheten’ verstehen einen rein per-
sonalischen Charismaträger, der kraft seiner Mission eine religiöse
Lehre oder einen göttlichen Befehl verkündet.” Weber (2001: 177).
3. In his otherwise quite informative article, Martin Riesebrodt com-
plains that Weber’s usage is not very consistent, but this may be
because he may have overlooked Weber’s assertion that the fol-
lowers of the “exemplarische” prophet pay “more” attention to
the person and the followers of the “ethische” prophet pay “more”
attention to the doctrine. Riesebrodt (2001: 196–197); Weber (2001:
178); Weber (2005b: 85–86).
4. “Berufung.” For an explanation of the historical background of
this type of “calling” and how that influenced Weber, see Adair-
Toteff (2014a: 8–10). For a discussion of the emphasis on the purely
personal importance of the prophet and his relation to God, see
Cornhill (1894: 10–11).
5. However, Weber noted that the prophet might appear independent
and in many respects he was; nonetheless, he was dependent on
God. Weber (2005b: 614).
6. Although Weber does not single Jeremiah out, Jeremiah would
have likely been in opposition to his family because of his faith.
The Jewish priests were highly regarded in part because of their
intellect and their great learning. Like many of the Christians, the
Old Testament Prophets had little use for dogma but had a high
 NOTES 169

regard for faith. Both groups had a limitless faith in God. Weber
(2001: 354–355).
Cornhill (1894: 95–98, 100) repeatedly emphasized Jeremiah’s
belief in his “calling” and how he was convinced that he must
faithfully follow his faith in God, for he was God’s “advocate”
(“Fürsprecher”).
7. Eckhart Otto notes the combination of charisma and prophecy but
he suggests that it was Karl Holl’s Enthusiasmus und Bussgewalt beim
griechischen Mönchtum, which helped Weber to recognize the connec-
tion. Eckart Otto (2002: 190–191, 201). For the fuller discussion of the
characteristics that the charismatic leader has, see chapter 7.
8. Weber sometimes refers to the prophet as the anti-priest. He does
not mention it but it would be safe to say that in one sense the
priest is like a mystic in that he receives God’s message. However,
Weber explicitly states that the prophet regards himself as God’s
“tool” (“Werkzeug”). Weber (2005b: 616, 626, 661). However, in
another sense the prophet is like the mystic because God speaks
through him. The way in which the people know that he is a true
prophet is by recognizing that it is God’s voice that comes through
the individual. Weber (2005b: 642–643).
9. Weber himself uses the phrase “glühende Leidenschaft” when dis-
cussing the prophets. See Weber (2005b: 614). In his “Einleitung” to
Die Großen Propheten Hermann Gunkel referred to the “enormous
passion” (“ungeheure Leidenschaft”) that prompted the prophets
to speak. Gunkel (1914: xv). For Gunkel’s influence on Weber
see Weber (2005b: 62–63 n. 7). For Weber’s reliance on Gunkel’s
“Einleitung” see Weber (2005b: 636 n. 57).
10. Part of the difficulty lies with the German word “Morgen”—it can
mean either “morning” or “tomorrow,” and it seems that Weber
especially appreciated its ambiguity. “Es kommt ein Ruf aus Seir
in Edom: Wächter, wie lange ist es Nacht? Der Wächter spricht:
Es kommt Morgen, aber noch ist es Nacht. Wenn ihr fragen wollt,
kommt ein ander Mal wieder.” Weber (1992a: 111). Weber appar-
ently was recalling what he had read in Bernhard Duhm’s Das
Buch Jesiah. Duhm gives the passage in the following way: “Zu
mir ruft’s von Seir: Wächter, wie weit in der Nacht, Wächter, wie
weit in der Nacht? Spricht der Wächter: Es kommt Morgen und
auch Nach—Wenn ihr fragen woltt, fragt, kehre wieder, kommt!”
(“To me comes a call from Seir: watchman, how far is it into the
170 NOTES

night, watchman, how far is it into the night? Said the watchman:
morning comes and also the night—if you want to ask, ask, return,
come!) Duhm (1902: 126).
11. Weber indicates that the prophets believed that the spring would
come only after the winter has passed, and that the day would
finally dawn only after the completion of the night. The coming
future is terrifying but there is the hope that after it passes there
will be better days. Weber (2005b: 676–677).
12. Otto links the two, but he stresses the ecstatic nature of the proph-
ets and he seems to suggest that this is what separates the prophet
from the “normal” people, but also from other prophets. See the
section “Die Prophetie im Abschnitt II ‘Die Entstehung des jüdis-
chen Pariavolkes.’” Otto (2002: 211–220).
13. Weber emphasizes that they were political demagogues but he
warned against thinking that they wished to promote some kind
of democracy or that they believed in some type of natural rights.
Weber (2005b: 620–621). He also emphasized that “they speak”
(“Sie sprachen”) or that they are spoken to by God. He distin-
guishes between the “speaking” prophets of the pre-exile period
and the “writing” prophets of the exile period. Weber (2005b: 608–
610, 636). It is important to remember that Weber did not have a
negative view of the demagogue.
14. Jaspers (1919: 14). Jaspers also says this about Weber’s politi-
cal work. Guttman claimed that Weber was especially careful to
keep his investigations into ancient Judaism objective. Guttmann
(1980: 291).
15. In a paper that Jacob Taube gave in honor of the hundredth anni-
versary of Max Weber’s birth, he maintained Weber’s Das antike
Judentum was the first work to investigate Judaism from a nonreli-
gious perspective and he insisted that the concept of pariah played a
pivotal role in that investigation. Taube (1966: 187–188). In an account
of another paper that Taube gave at a similar celebration, he sug-
gested that Weber’s entire account rests on the pariah concept. Taube
(1965: 223). At the same conference of the Deutsche Gesellschaft
für Soziologie Christian Sigrist also emphasized its importance and
drew attention to two previous conferences that had major sessions
devoted to this topic. Sigrist (1965: 325, see also 321).
16. See especially the first two of the three sections in Lichtblau’s
article. Lichtblau (2001: 278–291). This is not to deny Nietzsche’s
 NOTES 171

influence here or indeed in general. Lichtblau correctly notes the

much-quoted comment that Weber made to a student about being
able to gauge a scholar’s integrity by his response to a question
about Marx and Weber. Lichtblau (2001: 279). The passage is found
in Eduard Baumgarten, Max Weber. Werk und Person. Tübingen:
Mohr (Siebeck), 1964, 555. Lichtblau allows that the question of
Nietzsche’s influence is much in dispute. But more importantly,
focusing on this question does not help clarify Weber’s notion of
pariah as much as these scholars may have believed. See the chap-
ter on Salvation and Theodicy above.
17. “That means, as we know it from India” (“Das heißt, wie wir aus
Indien wissen”) (Weber 2005b: 241).
18. Weber suggested that there are significant differences between
Indians and Jews. First, The Indians were in a caste environment
whereas the Jews were “a pariah-people in a casteless environment ”
(“ein Pariavolk in einer Kastenlose Umwelt.”) Second, the Indian
world was eternal and had no history, but for the Jews the world
was created by God and that they were part of history. Weber
(2005b: 241–242).
19. Otto maintained that Weber’s interest in the Old Testament began
prior to the turn of the century and that his debate with Sombart
over the role that the Jews played in capitalism began in the first
years of the new century. Weber (2005b: 1–3, 29–30).
20. Jack Barbalet argues that two of Sombart’s books prompted Weber
to write the Protestant Ethic: Der moderene kapitalismus, first pub-
lished in 1902, and Die Deutsche Volkswirtschaft im Neunzehnten
Jahrhundert from the following year. While this is the conven-
tional view and has much to recommend it, Weber’s writings prior
to Sombart’s books offer a much different picture: one that shows
that before the turn of the century Weber was preoccupied with
the differences between Catholics and Protestants and thus pro-
vides the context for the opening pages of the Protestant Ethic. See
Adair-Toteff (2015a).
Sombart seemed never to be satisfied with his thesis and was
always seeking a new and more novel way to explain capitalism.
Despite the long lengths of his books and his use of statistics,
Sombart’s theories were rarely able to withstand scrutiny.
21. Cornhill expressly refers to the Old Testament Prophets as the
“instruments” (“Werkzeuge”) of God. Cornhill (1894: 12).
172 NOTES

22. Weber (2015: 395). Du Bois’ article did appear in the Archiv in
1906. Weber was not content just to provide a translator for Du
Bois’ book, he also arranged with his publisher to have it pub-
lished. Weber (2015: 437, 481).
23. Consider Weber’s letter (also in English) to Jacob H. Hollander of
Johns Hopkins. It is just as polite and respectful as the ones to Du
Bois and Washington and Weber is equally thankful and gracious
as he was to them. Weber (2015: 351).

6 Salvation and Theodicy

* Theodicy was spelled differently by different people at different

times; the spellings used here are the original ones.
1. Troeltsch wrote a number of entries for this encyclopedia and a
crucial one is the one on faith (“Glaube”). He suggests the prob-
lem of theodicy is one of the most fundamental questions of all
religions and that it is faith that helps us deal with the problem of
evil and suffering. See Troeltsch (1909: 485, 1913a: 1186). It is the
attempt to make “sense of the world” (“Sinn der Welt”), a phrase
that Troeltsch uses in both “Glaube” and “Theodizee.” Troeltsch
(1910: 1439, see also 1442). Troeltsch (1913a: 1189).
2. Hanke (2001: 213); Kippenberg (2001: 15); Ghosh (2008: 16–18);
Barbalet (2008: 55); Dorrien (2012: 357–360). That Weber relied
heavily on Troeltsch’s theological expertise is not surprising;
Troeltsch was one of Weber’s closest friends and, more importantly,
he was widely regarded as one of the leading theological scholars of
the time. Dorrien suggested that next to Schleiermacher, Troeltsch
was the most important and most influential theologian of the
nineteenth century. Dorrien (2012: 366).
3. Weber makes the larger and even more important point that his
demarcation is primarily conceptual and that “The opposition is
in reality thoroughly fluid, as almost all sociological appearances.”
(“Der Gegensatz ist in der Realität durchaus flüssig, wie fast alle
soziologischen Erscheinungen.”) Weber (2001: 157).
4. See chapter 5 on “Prophets and Pariah-People.”
5. “Nicht jede rationale religiöse Ethik ist überhaupt Erlösungsethik.
Der Konfuzianismus ist eine ‘religiöse’ Ethik, weiß aber gar nichts
von einem Erlösungsbedürfnis.” Weber (2001: 301).
 NOTES 173

6. See Weber’s distinction between “Brauch” (“usage”) and “Mode”

(“manner”) and then between “Konvention” (“convention”) and
“Sitte” (“moral”). “Brauch” is the least reflective, then “Mode,”
then “Konvention,” culminating in the most reflective, “Sitte.”
Weber (2014: 180–181). Unlike Troeltsch, who regards these differ-
ing versions of salvation as matters for evaluation, Weber attaches
no value judgments to them.
7. This may seem to be somewhat misleading because Weber insisted
that charisma is the most temporary and unstable type of leader-
ship. See chapter 7 on “Charisma.” However, Weber’s point is that
compared to the moment of euphoria or ecstasy, charisma seems
continuous.
8. Weber (2001: 313–314). See chapter 4 on “Asceticism and
Mysticism.”
9. Weber does not explicitly draw the Nietzschean contrast between
the Dionysian ecstasy and the Apollinan state of self-control, but
he does use the Greek term for self-control, self-mastery, and moral
balance: “Sophrosyne.” Weber (2001: 316).
10. For a discussion of “pre-critical” and “critical” writings and how
they relate to the Max Weber Gesamtausgabe see Klaus Lichtblau,
“Book Reviews,” Max Weber Studies, vol. 10, no. 2 (2010):
251–256.
11. Weber (1992a: 241). “Das uralte Problem der Theodicee ist ja die
Frage: Wie kommt es, daß eine Macht, die als zugleich allmächtig
und gütig hingestellt wird, eine derartig irrationale Welt des unver-
dienten Leidens, des ungestraften Unrechts and der unverbesser-
lichen Dummheit hat erschaffen können.” This is not to suggest
that there is an equivalence of texts; in the first, Weber’s concern is
primarily scholarly and in the second, it is mostly personal.
12. “Das ist das Schicksal, ja: das ist der Sinn der Arbeit der
Wissenschaft.” Weber (1992a: 85).
13. “natürliche rationalistische Bedürfnis des Intellektualismus, die
Welt als sinnvollen Kosmos zu begreifen.” Weber (2001: 272). See
also “‘Sinn’ des Kosmos.” Weber (2001: 275).
14. “Theodizee des Leidens.” He also refers to it as a “theodicy of dying”
(“Theodizee des Sterbens”) or a “theodicy of death” (“Theodicee
des Todes”). Weber varies the spelling. Weber (1989: 94–95, 493).
15. See Lempp (1913: 1178). I cite Lempp because, as I indicated above,
Weber undoubtedly knew of Lempp’s work on theodicy because of
174 NOTES

Troeltsch. Moreover, Weber liked and used the Religion in Geschichte

und Gegenwart as indicated by his using other entries. Finally, the
editors of the volume on the economic ethics of the world’s reli-
gions containing the “Einleitung” refer to Lempp’s theodicy entry.
However, they do not name him and the volume number that they
give is wrong. It is not Band V, but Band IX. Weber (1989: 90 n. 11).
16. “Ihr spezifisches Bedürfnis ist Erlösung von Leiden.” Weber (2001:
254).
17. Weber (2001: 261). The particular need for salvation was not
only an issue of class; Weber points out that throughout history
women have often been the ones seeking salvation. Weber (2001:
250–252).

7 Charisma

1. In the First Part of Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft, Weber expressly

states that the concept of “charisma” is based upon an “old
Christian term” (“altchristlicher Terminologie”); accordingly “It
is thus nothing new.” (“Er ist also nichts Neues.”). Weber (2014:
454).
2. “Charismen” is a plural form of charisma and is related to the plu-
ral form of “Geistesgabe,” that is “Geistesgaben.”
3. Weber (2014: 454). For Holl’s importance on Weber’s overall think-
ing on religion, see Eckart Otto’s remarks in the “Einleitung” to
Das antike Judentum. Weber (2005b: 52–75).
4. Sohm (1912: 11–15). The distinction between the “sichtbare und
unsichtbare Kirche” was not just Sohm’s. It was set out in detail in
Albrecht Ritschl’s 1859 article “Ueber die Begriffe: sichtbare und
unsichtbare Kirche.” It is included in the first volume of Ritschl’s
Gesammelte Schriften. For some comments on this distinction see
above.
5. Sohm’s first and second responses to Harnack can be found in
Sohm (1912); Harnack’s review of the original journal edition of
Wesen und Ursprung des Katholizismus is titled “Urchristentum
und Katholizismus (‘Geist’ und Recht).” It is found in Harnack
(1910), along with two other somewhat related pieces.
6. The second volume was published posthumously in 1923 along
with a reprint of the first volume. Some scholars have suggested
 NOTES 175

that there is a fundamental tension between the views that Sohm

put forth in the first volume and those of the second. For an account
of this tension, see Stoodt (1962: 106–111). For our purposes only
the first volume is important.
7. “Herrschaft soll heißen die Chance, f ür einen Befehl bestimmten
Inhalts bei angebbaren Personen Gehorsam zu finden.” Weber
offers a slightly different form of this definition: “‘Herrschaft’,
according to the definition, should mean the likelihood that a
group of people will obey a specific (or: for all) order.” “‘Herrschaft’
soll, definitionsgemäß [referring to the previous definition] die
Chance heißen, f ür specifische (oder: f ür alle) Befehle bei einer
Gruppe von Menschen Gehorsam zu finden.” Weber (2005a: 126);
Weber (2014: 210, 449); Hanke (2001: 20, 24); Lassman (2000: 86).
8. This is shown by the problem in translating “Achtung.” To give
three examples: first, Kant used it in the sense of “respect” for the
law, second, around high voltage, “Achtung” can mean to respect
the possible danger of the electrical current or simply to strongly
encourage people to pay attention to it. Third, the road sign
“Achtung—Kinder” is used to inform drivers to pay more atten-
tion to the roadway because children are likely to be present.
9. This equivalency led to the debate between Johannes Winckelmann
and Carl Schmitt. Schmitt’s book was titled Legalität und
Legitimität, which indicated that he placed more weight in legal-
ity. Winckelmann’s book was titled Legitimität und Legalität in
Max Webers Herrschaftssoziologie thus showing that he put more
emphasis on legitimacy. Schmitt (1932); Winckelmann (1952).
10. Weber offers a number of examples that demonstrate a level of
freedom. At the lowest level are slaves, who have no choice but
to follow orders. Then there are soldiers who involuntarily fol-
low commands. Then there are certain officials who are bound
by contract to obey as well as a certain type of worker whose labor
contract compels him to work. Finally, there are the people who
are formally free and they follow orders because they believe the
leader has “legitimacy.” Weber (2014: 450–151).
11. For Weber’s distinction between “Sitte” and “Convention” see
the section titled “Rechtsordnung, Convention und Sitte” in the
Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft volume devoted to law (Recht). Weber
(2010: 210–238). Weber notes that the boundary between the two
types is often fluid but he places far more importance on “Sitte”
176 NOTES

than he does “Convention.” Weber (2010: 213). For his understand-

ing of Sitte Weber relied on Tönnies’s important book Die Sitte.
In this work Tönnies notes that people often equate “Sitte” with
“Gewohnheit” (“habit”) and “Brauch” (“custom”) but he insists that
it differs from the other two because they are done without will-
ing but “Sitte” requires the “highest form of social will.” Tönnies
(1909: 7, 13, 16). See Adair-Toteff (2005a: 193); Weber (1994: 237);
Weber (2010: 211 n. 52).
12. Hegel (1952: 155); Adair-Toteff (2005a: 193). In the 1819/1820
version of his lectures on the philosophy of law Hegel notes how
Antigone is confronted with the collision between two obliga-
tions: her filial piety toward her brother or her obedience toward
the state. She decides that her larger duty is to bury her brother,
because the Gods are older and more powerful than Kleon and the
state. Hegel (1983: 117).
13. Weber (2005a: 187). Here and in a number of the following pas-
sages Weber uses quotation marks around the words; hence, the
use of double and single quotation marks.
14. Weber (2005a: 727); Weber (2014: 466). In the Staatssoziologie
Weber said that “form [is] the enemy of the arbitrary; the twin
sister of freedom. (Ihering).” (“Form die Feindin der Wilkür; die
Zwillingsschwester der Freiheit. [Ihering]).” The reference is to the
legal scholar Rudolph von Ihering. Weber (2009c: 83).
15. Weber used forms of “everyday” (“Alltag”) to describe the ordi-
nary. These included “everyday ethics” (“Alltagsethik”), “everyday
order” (“Alltagsordnung”), “everyday people” (“Alltagsmenschen”),
“everyday power” (“Alltagsmacht”), and “everyday economy”
(“Alltagswirtschaft”) Weber (2001: 312, 368, 314); Weber (2014: 512,
496). Weber used forms of “out of everyday” (“Außerordentlich”)
to convey that which is extraordinary. These forms seem odd in
English so I have chosen to render “Alltag” as “ordinary” and
“Außerordentlich” as “extraordinary.”
16. In the “Religiöse Gemeinschaften” section of Wirtschaft und
Gesellschaft Weber notes that because charisma is so individualistic,
it is bound to sink further into the daily routine until it is powerless
to have any influence over the conduct of life. Weber (2001: 215).
17. Weber considered rain makers and medicine men as well as
“beserkers” and the “schamans” to be charismatic. Weber (2005a:
470); Weber (2014: 491).
 NOTES 177

18. Weber (2001: 177–179, 207, 218); Weber (1992a: 161). For a detailed
discussion of Weber’s charismatic prophets see the chapter on
“Prophets” in Adair-Toteff (2014a).
19. Weber (1992a: 90–3). The phrase “true happiness” (“wahres Glück”)
is a reference to Nietzsche’s Zarathustra. In the Preface, Nietzsche
refers to the “last men” who think that they have found happiness.
Nietzsche derides them as being delusional and regarded them as
being not much better than fleas.
20. Weber is referring to his earlier distinction between the two types
of politicians: those who “live ‘for’ politics” and those who “live
‘from’ politics.” The first lives in order to enjoy political power; the
second derives his income and worth from it. Weber insists that
the opposition is in no way exclusive. Weber (1992a: 224, 169).
21. Weber (2009c: 94–95). In Die drei reinen Typen der legitimen
Herrschaft Weber wrote that “the charismatic authority is thus
one of the great revolutionary powers of history” (“Die charisma-
tische Autorität ist sogar eine der großen revolutionären Mächte
der Geschichte”). Weber (2005a: 737).
22. Recent works on some of the leaders of the Soviet Union who were
long regarded by people in the West to be dour and humorless have
shown them to be anything but that. In particular, some scholars
now argue that Joseph Stalin was a highly intelligent and even a
charismatic leader.
This is related to the issue of whether leaders who are regarded
as evil can possess charisma. The other prime example of this
debate is Hitler, but it is also relevant to discussions about leaders
who led their followers to death, such as Jim Jones and perhaps
David Koresh.
23. Despite its becoming routine and part of our everyday vocabu-
lary, Weber’s concept of charisma continues to draw an extraor-
dinary amount of attention. One of the most recent additions is
Paul Joosse’s “Becoming a God: Max Weber’s Social Construction
of Charisma,” Journal of Classical Sociology. Joosse (2014). For a
recent discussion of the history and nature of charisma and its
modern day applications, see Adair-Toteff (2015c).
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 Index

Abraham, Gary A., 91–2, 98–101, asceticism, viii, 4, 6, 7, 24, 28, 55–8,
116, 179 120, 165, 173, 179–80
accident, 38–9, 85, 123, 128 innerworldly, 55, 73–4, 111
Adair-Toteff, Christopher, 10, 59, 90, Augenmaß, 152
158–9, 163, 165, 168, 171, 176–7, Austrian School of Economics, 13
179–80 authority, 8, 21, 31, 58, 85, 133–4,
Adair-Toteff, Stephanie, ix 136, 147
Albert, Gert, 44, 80, 185, 187 charismatic, 137, 146, 149
Albert, Hans-Peter, 43, 47, 180 Church, 79
Albrow, Martin, 45, 165, 180 traditional, 141
Aldenhoff, Rita, 194 Ay, Karl-Ludwig, 103, 181
Aldenhoff-Hübinger, Rita, 14,
158, 195 Baden, 15, 159, 188
Amos, 85–8, 181 Baentsch, Bruno, 86, 181
analysis, analyses, 3–4, 11, 21, 26, 43, Baptists, 24
49, 51, 66, 94, 100–1, 125 Barbalet, Jack, 91, 171–2, 181
Anter, Andreas, 42–3, 47, 139, 140, Baumgarten, Eduard, 80–1, 124,
165, 180–1 171, 181
anti- Bendix, Reinhard, 18
authoritarian, 74 Benedict of Nursia, 58, 76
Black, 98 Berlin, 10–11, 16, 180, 184–5, 191–3,
Catholic, 11 197
Jewish, 101, 106 Berman, Harold J., 181
pluralism, 98, 179 Beruf, 5–6, 21–2, 49, 64–8, 70, 71,
Polish, 98 89, 111, 114–17, 119, 128, 139,
priest, 169 149, 144, 151–2, 158, 161, 166,
religious, 30, 79 182, 194
Semitic, 7, 11, 83, 92, 97–8, 100–1 Berufspolitiker, 153
Antigone, 140, 176 biography, 10, 37, 60, 102, 131, 161
Antonio, Robert J., 180, 185 Brentano, Lujo, 129
Archiv für Sozialwissneschaft und Breuer, Stefan, 42, 71, 73, 167, 181,
Sozialpolitik, 11, 29, 49, 61, 89, 185
103, 158, 161, 172 Brocke, Bernhard von, 158, 181
Aristotle, vii, ix Bruhns, Hinnerk, 12, 181
Aronovitch, Hiliard, 46, 180 Bruun, H. H., 33, 162, 181, 196
200 INDEX

Bücher, Karl, 26 conviction, convictions, 6, 17, 60,

Buddha, 85, 150 63, 86–7, 90, 101, 110, 152, 162,
Buddhism, 28–9, 89, 108, 120, 194 167, 179
Burckhardt, Jacob, 3 Cornhill, Carl Heinrich, 88, 168–9,
bureaucracy, 153 171, 181
bureaucrats, 20, 126, 142–3, 146, Covenant, 87–8, 97, 101
147, 153 creature, creatures, 72, 75–7
Burger, Thomas, 33, 162, 181 custom, customs, customary, 20,
109, 140, 164, 176
Cahnmann, Werner, J., 91, 96, 181
Calvin, John, 5, 16, 21, 23–4, 61, 65, death, dying, 26, 33, 43, 109, 116,
71, 74–5, 77, 111, 160–1 128, 145, 148, 173, 177
Calvinist, 5, 22–3, 74, 76, 101, 121–3 Denifle, Heinrich, 60, 166, 182
capitalism, 3, 9, 14, 23, 65, 71, 84, desire, desires, 6, 20, 30, 41, 64, 66,
91–5 79, 118, 120, 142
modern, 5, 13–14, 17, 21–2, 46, 56, despot, 114
65, 94–5 Deus absconditus, 74, 119, 122
Western, 95 Deutsche Gesellschaft für Soziologie
Catholic, Catholics, 14–15, 21–2, 24, (DGS), 9–12, 63, 170
56, 59–60, 63–4, 68, 73, 76, 78, devil, 57
98, 111, 135–8, 159, 166, 171 Die Kultur der Gegenwart, 16
Catholicism, 60, 63, 75–6, 110, 112, Die Religion in Geschichte und
137, 138, 166 Gegenwart, 59, 64, 105, 107, 113,
causality, 4, 34–5, 37, 39, 43 123, 134, 174, 181–2, 184, 186,
certainty, 34–5, 112, 160 189, 191–2
chance, 96, 121, 128, 175 dilettante, dilettantes, 64, 152, 166
Chapman, Mark D., 166, 181 disenchantment, disenchanted,
charisma, 4, 8, 28, 84–5, 87–8, 109, 18–19, 28, 49, 115, 122
110, 131–55, 169, 172, 174, Dorrien, Gary, 172, 182
176–7, 179–80, 184–5, 193 doubt, doubts, 16, 33, 65, 94, 98, 114,
mixed, 132 115, 117, 124, 139, 143, 153, 158
pure, 132 Du Bois, W. E. B., 102–3, 172
church, 22, 23, 50, 58–9, 61–4, 66–7, dualism, 57, 94, 119–20
75, 77, 79, 114, 134–8, 150, 160, Duhm, Bernhard, 89–90, 117–18,
166 169–70, 182
“Ekklesia,” 137–8 duty, 67–8, 80, 97, 142, 176
invisible, 62, 136, 166
visible, 62, 136, 166 East, 5, 14–15, 99, 159
clarity, 4, 46–7, 50, 122, 151, 164 Eckhart, Meister, 60, 68–9, 167
community, communities, 27, 62, 67, economic, economics, 5, 9, 12–18,
69, 86, 88, 134–7 21, 27–31, 45–6, 49, 51, 80, 83,
concepts, pure, 4–5, 34 87, 93–5, 99, 106, 120, 127, 132,
Confucianism, 28–9, 89, 106, 108, 146–9, 154, 157, 160–2, 164,
111 174, 191
conscience, 67, 179 economy, 9, 15, 45, 94, 128, 157, 176
contemplation, 58, 67, 69, 75, 77, 79 Eger, Karl, 65–8, 182
 INDEX 201

enemy, 152, 176 Haas, Alois M., 69, 167, 183

enthusiasm, 134, 142, 169, 181 Handwörterbuch der
essence, 36, 50, 120 Staatswissenschaften, 89
ethics, 5, 24, 28–9, 41, 51, 59, 66, Hanke, Edith, ix, 106–7, 113, 117,
77–8, 93, 121, 160, 167, 176, 179 122, 172, 175, 183, 185, 195–6
ethics, economic, 17, 28, 30, 51, 101, Harnack, Adolf, 57–8, 64–5, 134–7,
160, 174 166, 174, 183
ethics, religious, 27, 31 Heaven, 23, 74, 120
ethics of conviction Hegel, G. W. F., 140, 164–5, 176, 183,
(Gesinnungsethik), 101, 110, 152 186
evil, 57, 112, 115, 119, 123–4, 172–3 Heidelberg, 13, 15, 16, 31, 128, 159, 164
extraordinary, 101, 121, 131–2, 142, Hell, 23, 112, 120, 158
144–8, 150, 176–7 Henrich, Dieter, 33, 46, 47, 162, 183
Herring, Hermann, 183
Factor, Regis A., 10, 39–40, 193 Heussi, Karl, 56, 59, 64, 184
factory, 15, 94–5, 126, 158 Hintze, Otto, 184
facts, factor, 5, 8, 15, 20–1, 30, 48, 63, Historical School of Economics, 13
76, 93, 128, 159, 162 history, 10, 13, 16, 21, 24–6, 34–40,
Farris, Sara R., 74, 101, 182 46–7, 49, 51, 55, 57, 59, 62, 64,
Festschrift, 10, 40, 185, 193 67, 90, 92–3, 95, 97, 100–1, 106,
Fischer, Kuno, 10, 34, 40, 184–5 113, 124, 127, 132–5, 150, 154,
Fleischmann, Eugène, 96, 122, 182 155, 157, 166–7, 171, 174, 177,
Frankfurt, 11, 182–3, 187, 189–91 179, 180–1, 187
Führerdemokratie, 153 economic, 12–13, 46
Hoffmann, Ernst, 34, 183, 184
Geiestesgaben, 133–4, 174 Holl, Karl, 134–5, 169, 174, 184
Geisteswissenschaft, humility (Demut), 97
Geisteswissenschaften, 35
Gerhardt, Ute, 165, 182 idea, 14, 19, 20–1, 28, 38, 50, 94, 99,
Gesinnungsethik, 110, 152, 166 107, 112, 120, 157, 160, 182, 191
Ghosh, Peter, 79, 92–3, 131, 159, 172, ideal type, 4, 6, 34, 43, 44, 46–51,
182 91–2, 97, 165
Gladstone, William, 150 individual, 3, 6, 17, 22, 24, 34–5, 37,
glory, 5, 23–4, 75–6, 111–12, 122 40–1, 44, 49, 51, 57, 62–3, 66,
Gohrs, Ferdinand, 68–9, 167, 182 73–5, 86, 97–8, 112, 120, 146,
Gottl, Friedrich, 27 149, 150–1, 164
Graf, Wilhelm Friedrich, 159, 182, 192 institution, institutions, 19, 20, 147,
Gretzmann, Hugo, 59, 182 160
Grimm, Brueder, 133, 182 intention, intentions, 20, 26, 99, 122,
group, groups, 20, 35, 69–70, 73, 83, 135, 137, 161
85, 90, 92, 95, 101, 122, 150, 160, interest, interests, 5, 9, 12, 13–14,
169, 175 17, 19–20, 34, 37, 40, 55, 57, 60,
Grundriß der Sozialökonomik, 25, 26 68, 79–80, 83–4, 89, 91, 94, 96,
Grützmacher, Richard, 58, 183 101–2, 115, 137, 143, 147–8, 151,
Gunkel, Hermann, 117, 123, 169, 183 157, 158, 160–1, 166, 171, 185
Guttandin, Friedhelm, 183 Isaiah, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89
202 INDEX

Jaffé, Edgar, 11, 49, 103 lawyer, 3, 5, 9–10, 39, 193

Jahveh, 93 leaders, 7, 67, 85–7, 90, 101, 132, 134,
Jaspers, Karl, 91, 163, 170, 179, 183 136, 139, 141–2, 144–50, 152–3,
Jehovah, 23 155, 169, 175, 177
Jellinek, Georg, 6, 34, 41–4, 47–8, 100, lecture, lectures, 11–15, 45, 46, 80,
137, 164–5, 180–1, 184, 186, 188, 193 93, 95, 98, 135, 137, 158, 172
Jena, 60, 166, 191 legality, 139, 175
Jeremiah, 85–8, 168–9 legitimate, legitimacy, 18, 39, 46,
Jesus, 85, 109, 150 127, 136, 139–40, 149
Job, Book of, 117–18 Lehmann, Hartmut, 157, 159, 186,
Joosse, Paul, 177, 184 191
Judaism, 5, 29, 83–4, 89–93, 97, 100, Leibniz, Gottfried, 113
109, 117, 170, 187, 189 Lempp, Otto, 111–15, 118–20, 173–4,
judgments, 91 186, 192
value judgments, 11, 160, 173 Lepsius, M. Rainer, 19–20, 186,
Junker, 15, 80, 99, 167, 191 194–6
justice, 66, 74, 86, 88, 118, 123 Lepsius, Oliver, 186
Lichtblau, Klaus, 12, 92, 124, 125,
Kaesler, Dirk, 184, 196 127, 170–1, 173, 181, 186, 197
Kalberg, Stephen, 20, 185 Liebeschutz, Hans, 91, 97, 186
Kant, Immanuel, vii, ix, 3–5, 34–5, Liefmann, Robert, 9
113, 163, 175, 182, 186, 192, 196 life, 9–10, 13, 20, 22–3, 25, 27–9, 39,
Kantorowicz, Hermann, 10, 157 43, 49, 50, 55, 58, 62, 64, 66–7,
Kaube, Jürgen, 10, 37, 163, 185 69–70, 76–80, 83, 86–8, 108–10,
Kippenberg, Hans, G., 161, 172, 181, 111, 116–18, 120, 126, 128, 136,
183, 185–6, 188, 191, 195 143, 147–9, 151, 155, 162, 166
Klasis, 70 life, conduct of, 5, 29, 71, 76, 108,
Knies, Karl, 13 109–11, 176
knowledge, 16, 34, 40, 48, 116, Logos, 12, 157, 188, 193
151–2, 164 love, 5, 16, 67, 74, 122–4, 138, 142–3
historical, 36, 38 Love, John, 91, 122, 187
scientific, 151 Luthardt, Christian Ernst, 187
Krech, Volkhard, 15–16, 166, 185 Luther, Martin, 5, 16, 21–3, 56, 62,
Kroll, Thomas, 137, 185, 195 64–71, 74–5, 77, 111, 134, 160–1,
Küenzlen, Gottfried, 159, 185 166–7, 182, 183, 187
Kulturkampf, 99, 136
Kulturwissenschaften, 40 magic, 28, 85, 95, 101, 106, 109, 118,
123, 145, 150
Lang, Bernhard, 88, 185 magician, magicians, 85, 106, 109,
language, 80, 86, 93, 164 110, 113, 144–5, 150
Lask, Emil, 6, 10, 34, 39, 40–1, 44, “mania,” 116
164, 185–6 Maurer, Andrea, 187, 191
Lassman, Peter, 139, 175, 182, 186–7, McGinn, Bernard, 68–9, 167, 187
193, 197 meaning, 25, 62, 73, 76, 117–18,
law, 6, 9–10, 13, 35, 38, 40–2, 66, 74, 132–4, 140, 151, 155, 160
94–5, 135–8, 164, 175–6, 181 Mennonites, 24
 INDEX 203

metaphysics, 33, 40–1, 49, 106 Old Testament, 23, 93, 117, 123
Meyer, Eduard, 6, 34, 37–9, 44, 163, Old Testament Prophets, 7, 74, 83,
164, 187, 191 85–8, 90–1, 97, 101, 118, 122,
Middle Ages, 57, 60, 65, 95, 166 150, 171, 189
Mitzman, Arthur, 99, 187 Oppenheimer, Hans, 49, 188
moderne Kapitalismus, Der, 13–14, order, 45, 50, 57, 62, 67, 73, 76, 107,
46, 171, 181, 190 111, 118, 119–20, 138–9, 141,
Mommsen, Wolfgang, J., 99–100, 175–7
158, 182, 185, 187, 194–5 organization, 62, 94, 137, 138
Momogliano, Arnoldo, 187 Otto, Eckart, 89–90, 92, 96, 124–5,
monastery, 57, 68–9, 73 169, 170–1, 174, 188, 195
money, 5–6, 22, 93–4, 157–8, 160 outsider, outsiders, 7, 83, 87–8, 90
monk, monks, 24, 57–8, 64, 66–7,
111, 134–5 Pariah, pariah-people, Pariah-Volk,
Müller, Hans-Peter, 47, 163, 187 4, 7, 28, 83–5, 87, 88, 90–9, 101,
Munich, 12, 46, 93, 129, 135, 137 103, 168, 170–2, 181, 187, 189,
mystical union (unio mystica), 64, 191
69, 168 passion, 88, 90, 111, 142, 152, 155,
mysticism, 4, 6–7, 28, 55–7, 59–61, 169, 181
63–5, 69, 71, 80–1, 165–7, 173, Paulson, Stanley, 180, 186, 188
179, 187 pessimism, 62, 75
Eastern, 60 philosopher, 3, 39, 41, 44, 48–9, 163,
German, 60, 63, 68, 71 179
Western, 60 philosophy, 3, 6, 13, 16, 33–4, 39, 40,
41, 44, 157, 163, 176, 179
“Narvi Fragment,” 33 Pietists, 24
nature, natural, 34–5, 43–4, 49, 57, piety, 62, 75, 77, 108, 140–1, 176
60, 67, 73, 77–8, 99, 107, 120, Plato, vii, 48–9, 116, 151, 155
123, 126, 137, 139, 150–1, 154, Poggi, Gianfranco, 10, 188
157–8, 170, 177 politics, 10, 12, 14, 56, 84, 97,
“negative privileged,” 124, 126, 127, 153, 158, 177, 179, 181–2,
186 186–7, 197
Neo-Kantian, viii, 3, 6, 33–4, 38–40, Posen, 60
43, 163, 179 power, 8, 22, 28, 42, 71, 77, 84, 87–8,
New Testament, 23 91, 106, 111, 113–15, 118–19,
Nietzsche, Friedrich, 25, 92, 114, 123, 127, 131, 133, 136, 138, 140,
122, 124–7, 167, 170–1, 173, 177, 144–6, 149, 150, 154–5, 160,
187 166, 176–7, 186
Predestination, doctrine of,
Oakes, Guy, 33, 162, 187 5–6, 16, 21, 23, 65, 75, 119,
obedience (Gehorsamkeit), 67–8, 97, 121, 160
134, 138, 141, 176 Preger, Wilhelm, 60, 69, 166, 188
Offenbacher, Martin, 14–15, 21, priest, 68, 85, 87–8, 97, 106, 145, 168,
158–9, 187 169
official, officials, 88, 136, 141–4, principle, principles, 11, 23, 35, 39,
153, 175 45, 62, 64, 73, 90, 101, 152
204 INDEX

Prophet, prophets, 4, 7, 83–4, 86–7, Scaff, Lawrence, 103, 189

110, 123, 168, 169–70, 177, 180, Schaaf, Julius Jakob, 189
185 Schäfer-Lichtenberger, Christa, 91,
ethical, 85, 88 189
exemplary, 85, 88 Scheel, Otto, 59, 189
Old Testament, 7, 74, 83, 86–8, 90, Schelting, Alexander von, 33, 46,
91, 97, 101, 118, 122, 150 162–3, 193
Protestant, Protestants, 14–17, 21–4, Schluchter, Wolfgang, 9, 18–20,
55, 57, 59–62, 65, 70, 73–4, 79, 25–7, 91, 115, 158, 160–2, 182–3,
93, 97, 108–9, 111–12, 135–8, 189, 194, 196
157, 159, 171 Schmitt, Carl, 175, 189
Prussia, Prussian, 15, 21, 80, 136, 158 Schmuhl, Hans-Walter, 92, 189–90
Pühle, Hans-Jürgen, 188 Seeberg, Reinhold, 57, 59, 190
Puritan, Puritans, 24, 62, 76–7, 92–5, Sein, Sein-Sollen, 41, 48, 116
106, 182 self-
control, 22, 24, 57, 73, 74, 77, 79,
Quaker, 24 110–12, 173
denial, 56
racism, racist, 7, 83, 92, 98, 99, 102, 103 discipline, 56, 71, 73
Raphaël, Freddy, 91, 97, 188 dominance, 73
rationality, 77, 80, 95, 113, 115, 151, mastery, 73, 77
153, 154, 155, 160 mortification, 76
reason, 9, 39, 55, 56, 57, 58, 61, 80, perfection, 110
83, 86, 90, 93, 96, 99, 110, 112, restraint, 57, 79, 80
113, 115, 124, 132, 143, 166–7, Siebeck, Hermann, 167
182 Siebeck, Paul, 25, 27, 134
Religionssoziologie, 12, 15–16, 18, 19, Sigrist, Christian, 170, 190
25–9, 50, 154, 184–5, 189, 191–3 Simmel, Georg, viii, 11, 13–14, 16,
“Ressentiment,” 92, 114, 124–6, 182, 40, 63, 96, 100, 159, 165, 185,
186 190
revelation, 79, 84, 144, 149 sin, 77, 107–8, 110, 114, 119, 122, 152
revolution, 8, 42, 85, 88–9, 153–5, Sinn, 61, 70, 72, 115–17, 167, 172–3,
177 180, 185
Rickert, Heinrich, 6, 33, 36, 38–41, Sitte, Sittlichkeit, 123, 140, 173,
43–4, 162–4, 179, 181, 186–8 175–6, 191
Riesebrodt, Martin, 85, 168, 181, 183, social interaction, 43, 56
185, 186, 188, 191 Socrates, 48–9, 151
Ringer, Fritz, 162, 188 Sohm, Rudolf, 134–8, 146, 174–5,
Ritschl, Albrecht, 62, 166, 174, 189 183, 190–1
rule, rules, 8, 10, 12, 45, 51, 58, 76, Sombart, Werner, 11, 13–14, 22, 49,
114, 139–44, 147–9, 153, 180 93–5, 100, 124, 126, 157–8, 171,
rulers, 87 186, 190
soul, 57, 71, 75, 79, 103, 109, 120
salvation, 4, 7–8, 23, 28, 62, 70–2, 74, spirit, 22–3, 25, 35, 38, 69, 75, 90,
76, 84, 96–7, 105–13, 115, 121, 109, 123, 136, 138, 160, 174, 179,
125–7, 129, 160, 171, 173–4 181–2, 188, 194
 INDEX 205

Spondel, Walter M., 190 United States, 21, 42, 102

Stammer, Otto, 190–1 universal, 17, 25, 35–6, 40, 45, 48,
Stammler, Rudolf, 10, 38, 180 121
state, 12, 42, 46–8, 66, 73, 94, 108,
135–6, 138–40, 153–4, 164, 176 Verantwortungsethik, 65, 166
Stoodt, Dieter, 175, 191 Verantwortungsgefühl, 152
succession, 148–9 Verein für Sozialpolitik, 11–12
suffering, 67, 90, 96–7, 105, 107–8, Verfassung, 42, 46, 135–6, 183–4
112, 114, 117–23, 125–9, 172 vessel (Gefaß), 78
Swedberg, Richard, ix, 12–13, 19–20, Vienna, 60, 128
25, 29, 91, 162, 165, 191 Vocation (Beruf ), 22, 24, 67–8, 70,
89, 117, 143
Taube, Jacob, 170, 191 Volk, 137
Tauler, Johannes, 60, 63, 65, 68–71,
166–7, 182–3, 191 Wagner, Gerhard, 163, 193
teleology, 36–7, 160 Washington, Booker T., 102–3, 172
temptation, 57 wealth, accumulation of, 22, 24, 30,
Tenbruck, Friedrich, 18–19, 38, 163, 191 93, 96
theodicy, viii, 4, 7–8, 28, 105–6, Weber, Marianne, 25–6, 80, 88, 93,
112–15, 117–24, 126–8, 171–4 99, 102–3, 161, 168, 193
of fortune, 127–8, 180 Weber, Max
theologian, theologians, 8, 16–17, 28, “Abriß der universalen Soziale
56, 63–5, 68, 101, 133–4, 160–1, und Wirtschaftsgeschichte”
172 (Wirtschaftsgeschichte), 13,
theology, 23, 68, 181–2 195–6
theory, 10, 12–13, 29, 34, 38–42, “Agrarverhältnisse im Altertum,”
48, 94, 101, 106, 118, 125, 163, 89
180–2, 187, 193, 197 “Allgemeine ‘theoretische’
Thucydides, 38, 154 Nationalökonomie,” 13, 195
Tolstoy, 116 “Allgeneine Staatslehre,” 12, 42,
Tönnies, Ferdinand, viii, 11, 16, 30, 125, 144–5, 147
40, 63, 78, 162, 176, 191 Das antike Judentum, 92, 125,
tool, instrument (Werkzeuge), 5–6, 183, 195
31, 34, 44, 29–50, 78, 151, 169 “Die drei reinen Typen der
Torp, Cornelius, 80, 191 legitimen Herrschaften,” 45,
Treiber, Hubert, 165, 191 135, 137, 144, 146, 177
Treitschke, Heinrich von, 11, 99–101 Die Wirtschaftsethik der
Troeltsch, Ernst, 10–11, 16, 27, 60–4, Weltreligionen, 29, 45, 95, 106,
105, 107–8, 113, 115, 121–2, 157, 125, 194
159, 166–7, 172–4, 181–2, 185, Politik als Beruf, 64, 114, 139140,
189, 191–2 152–3, 166, 194
Marta, 16 Religiöse Gemeinschaften, 26–8,
Trotsky, Leo, 139 45, 71, 77, 94, 106–7, 114, 159,
Turner, Stephen, ix, 10, 20, 39–40, 167, 176, 185, 195
132, 155, 160, 181, 186–7, 193 “Ueber einige Kategorien der
Tyrell, Hartmann, 15–16, 185 verstehenden Soziologie”
206 INDEX

Weber, Max—Continued Windelband, Wilhelm, 33–6, 38,

Wissenschaft als Beruf, 49, 89, 185, 197
115–16, 119, 128, 151, 194 Wirtschaftssoziologie, 12, 187, 191
“Zwischenbetrachtung,” 116, 119, 121 Wolin, Sheldon, 165, 197
Wegener, Richard, 113, 192, 196 worker, workers, 15, 29, 33, 36–7, 45,
Weiß, Johannes, 30, 162, 197 119, 126, 157–8, 174–5
Weltablehnung, 73, 121, 167, 186 wrath, 88, 96, 123, 125, 127
Weltflucht, 58, 64, 76
Weltfremd, 22 Zarathustra, Zarathustraians, 25,
West, 5, 21, 65, 106, 154, 160, 177 108, 177
Whimster, Sam, ix, 13–14, 157, 160, Zimmerman, Andrew, 98,
196–7 102, 197
Winckelmann, Johannes, 26, 164, Zippian, Heinz, 163, 194
175, 191, 193, 197 Zwingli, Huldrych, 62