[Backstage] Walled up here in this fortress, kept practically as a prisoner, prevented from teaching, prohibited from preaching, what good am I? What can I accomplish in such a place? I was not born for idleness, nor for solitude. I was born for action. I was destined by Him who holds in His hand the life of every living thing for vigorous fights, fights for the truth against those who would pervert it, fights for my people against those who would pollute them, fights for my Christ against those who would cheapen Him. I am a fighter, not a fortress-dweller!
[Entering] How it pains me to have been shut up in this place, this Wartburg fortress!
Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ … knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts ... Hope does not disappoint us. To that I must hold! In that I must trust!
These are such turbulent times! The poor, held down so long, are demanding their rights. The people, divided into scores of petty princedoms, are claiming their nationhood. And the church is roiling with controversy and division. It is like a flood that will overwhelm us all, and I must be amid the flood. I must be involved in it. I cannot let it pass me by. But here I sit, in this dismal fortress.
But, let me see this word again: “… suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us.” Hope does not disappoint us. It must be so. It is here in the Word of God, on which I stand. I can do nothing else.
For at least one thing has come from my stay at the Wartburg – this. My translation of the Bible into the language of the German people. Never before has the common man been able to read for himself what God has said. Always this book has been the province of the church, read in Latin and interpreted by the priests and the priests only. But now – no thanks to them – it will be in the hands and in the hearts of the German nation. For the time to do that work I am grateful, though I must tell you that nearly every night the devil himself has come to tempt me. I wrestle with him, not as with flesh and blood and earthly powers, but with the rulers of darkness and spiritual wickedness in high places. So real and so powerful is this world with devils filled that one night I picked up my inkwell and threw it against the wall of my cell, so as to blot him out! Mine is a world of powers and temptations, shame and guilt, and my whole life has been one of doing combat with inner demons. So this fortress, this palace turned prison, provided by Elector Friedrich, but nay, provided by God Himself as a refuge to regain my strength. Thanks be to God for His unspeakable gifts – though I confess I would rather not be here. Much more would I rather be in Wittenberg in my university classroom; or in Torgau in my pulpit; or in the arms of my Katy, whom I expect to marry soon. Ah, that it be true, that hope does not disappoint us.
I have come a long way as I stand before you here in this year of our Lord 1522. I was born almost forty years ago in the city of Eisleben to Hans and Margarethe Luther, their firstborn son. As I was born on the feast day of St. Martin, I was thus named Martin. My father had ambitions for me; he had worked hard in the copper mines so that he might send me to the University in Erfurt and thence to study law. I did as my father wanted, believing that I should respect his authority. We were taught to respect all authority – the father, the prince, the Emperor. In an unstable time, where so much was changing, it was comforting to hold on to authority. And not the least of it the authority of the church, the priest, the pope – all appointed by God Himself for us and for our salvation. So to law school I went.
But there my soul was troubled. I was worried about my spiritual condition. The church had not only told me of the fires of hell; she had portrayed them vividly. Our churches contained paintings of souls tormented by eternal fires, never to be put out. Shrines on the roadsides showed us Christ the righteous judge. Priests in their sermons warned us that even the slightest disobedience, the most trivial of sins, a lack of respect for the Holy Father in Rome, would add interminable years to our time in purgatory and might even condemn us to everlasting torture with the devil and all his rebellious angels. I was afraid! I did not know whether something I had done or had failed to do would put me at odds with Him who is the judge of all mankind. I could not settle, in my own heart, whether there was mercy for one such as I. There seemed to be no hope at all for a quiet heart or a peaceful mind.
But one day, when I was but 21 years old, I was walking home from the law courts and was caught in a severe thunderstorm, with lightning flashing all around me. I wondered whether God Himself was hurling lightning bolts at me, intent on killing me. And so I did the only thing I knew to do – I called on a saint. The saints, you see, were so much more compassionate than Christ, we thought. So if you called upon a saint for help, it was far more likely you would get that help than if you went directly to Christ, the unapproachable, the terrifying. St. Anne was the grandmother of Jesus and the patron saint of miners, often invoked in the Luther household, and so I cried, “St. Anne, help me. Help me, and I will become a monk.” The storm subsided. My life was spared. And I did what I had promised to do: I entered the Augustinian priory at Erfurt, there expecting to pray and to work out my salvation. I needed to know that salvation was mine; I needed to be certain. The monastery would be my mighty fortress against the storms of doubt and fear that prevailed in my heart.
But, brothers and sisters, it was not. It was not a fortress of solace; it was a prison of shame. In the monastery, daily I confessed my sin – repeatedly, sometimes as often as twenty times a day. I slept on a cold stone floor to punish my body. I did all that my superiors told me to do, respecting their authority, but still I felt only fear for God, anxiety that I would spend eternity in hell. So fearful was I that when I was ordained priest and was to perform my first Mass, my hand trembled at the thought that I held in my fingers the very body and blood of the Lord. I was not worthy! I could scarcely complete the service. In me there was this ancient foe that sought to work with great craft and power, armed with cruel hate and unequalled among this world’s terrors. What was I to do?
My superiors had an answer. To Rome I would go, on pilgrimage, there to see the sights of the Eternal City and to pay homage to the relics of all the saints. They told me that if I were to make pilgrimage to Rome, it would shorten my time in purgatory. And so I went, hoping for much, working my way through shrine after shrine, even climbing on my knees the steps known as Pilate’s Stairs, kissing them one by one by one. But I had seen so much in Rome: I had seen priests who kept mistresses, I had witnessed bishops who surrounded themselves with great wealth, I had found self-centered prelates caring for nothing but their own pleasure. And so, do you know that by the time I had ascended the last of Pilate’s Stairs, I had begun to doubt – to doubt the church, to doubt the saints, to doubt that this was the way to salvation at all. This did not work. This was futile. I felt not a shred of hope. I turned and ran down those steps in despair.
But, thanks be to God, it was a turning point. It meant a whole new way. For when I returned to the monastery and told Father Staupitz, the superior, that I still could not love God, in desperation he sent me to the University at Wittenberg to study Scripture and theology. He hoped that if I were busy as a student I would forget about my own soul. Ah, Father Staupitz, you were an unwitting instrument in the hands of God, for, “We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to His purpose.” As you can see, I earned my doctorate. I was appointed to teach Scripture; and I was appointed to teach the Letter to the Romans. Yes, indeed, “All things work together for good.”
The Letter to the Romans! It is from that letter I have been reading this morning. It is in that letter that at last I found the truth that freed me; yes, but also the truth that has captured me, if you will. The truth that has put me here in this mighty Wartburg fortress. For in that Roman letter I read, “The just shall live by faith.” A quotation from Habbakuk, used by Paul to describe our relationship to God. So simple; and yet so fresh. “Der Gerichte wird seines Glaubens leben.” “The just shall live by faith.” And then, as I have already read, over in the fifth chapter, “Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God ….” Peace with God! I finally found that peace! Not by climbing stairs or saying masses; not by adoring saints’ relics or giving offerings. Just by faith! By trusting Christ, my friend, my advocate, my Savior! How simple and yet how profound! How direct and immediate, how accessible and available! My Savior is mine and I am his! Peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ!
That I began to teach and preach. Many others at Wittenberg came to see Christ in that way. These years from 1513 to 1517 were heady and exciting, full of new discoveries, joyful, free of conflict.
But then, 1517, that fateful year. Pope Leo wanted money, a great deal of money, to build a new basilica at Rome, the better, he said, to house St. Peter’s bones and St. Paul’s relics. Pope Leo devised a fundraising scheme; he would deploy his power as supreme pontiff, the power to free waiting souls from purgatory and speed them on toward heaven – if we would pay for these privileges. Indulgences, they were called. All across Europe went the Pope’s emissaries, peddling indulgences, charging for the forgiving grace of God. One Johannes Tetzel came to Saxony, my home; Tetzel was the worst of the worst, for Tetzel would teach us, “As soon as the coin in the coffer rings, a soul from Purgatory springs.” Who of us, poor peasant farmers though we might be, would not pay for the release of our dear parents or for the quick pardon of that departed child? The money flowed in from the poor and the frightened.
I was incensed. I was angry. Such naked greed! That anyone would subvert ordinary people to pay for something that was worthless at a price well beyond their means, one that would ultimately mean foreclosure on their little holdings – it devoured my very soul. And so I drew up a list of some 95 theses, propositions, against the power of indulgences, and, hoping to engender debate there in the university, on Halloween, the 31st of October, 1517, I nailed these propositions to the door of the Schlosskirche in Wittenberg. I intended them as an academics’ debate. How could I have known that they would be printed on Herr Gutenberg’s new presses? How could I have known that they would be sent all through Saxony and beyond, and that a copy would even make its way to Pope Leo’s hands in Rome? How could I have known that my hammer blows at the castle church door would be heard all over Europe?
Events followed swiftly thereafter. In 1518 an Imperial Diet at Augsburg, where I was expected to recant my views. I was afraid of arrest and even of execution, for I knew of others like Jan Hus in Bohemia who had had to die for their faith. I ran to the safety of Saxony, where I knew that my prince, the Elector Friedrich the Wise, would protect me.
Then in 1519 I came out of hiding to share in a debate at Leipzig; it served to call attention to me again. And I was writing, always writing, for the printing press proved to be my greatest friend. Writing to the Nobility of the German Nation; writing about the Babylonian Captivity of the Church; writing about the Freedom of the Christian Man – all of them books that would stir the soul of Europe.
So then in 1520 the proclamation from Pope Leo, “Exsurge Domine”, “Arise, O Lord, and defend Thy cause; a wild boar has invaded Thy vineyard.” We do not have to guess who that wild boar is, do we?! When the pope’s proclamation was handed me, I publicly threw it into a bonfire, defying the powers of priest and pope, for I knew without question that we are justified by faith and faith alone! Not by good works, not by obedience to authority, not by anything at all other than just by simple faith to trust Him, just to take Him at His word.
And so, a few months ago now, another Imperial Diet, this one in the city of Worms, with the Holy Roman Emperor himself present, Charles V. I was shown a table full of my books. I was asked if these were indeed my books and if I stood by what was written in them. It was a terrible moment. I knew that my very life was at stake, but more than that, I knew that the souls of ordinary men and women, peasants like myself, were at stake. Were these truths to be squelched, when would another voice be raised? Yes, I had friends – Melanchthon, Karlstadt, others – but would they stand for the truth? Would this Word be known to others?
And so I answered that the books were indeed mine, and, as for whether I would stand by them, I said, “Unless I am convicted by Scripture and plain reason – I do not accept the authority of popes and councils, for they have contradicted each other – my conscience is captive to the Word of God. I cannot and will not recant anything, for to go against conscience is neither right nor safe.” The prosecutors stood stunned, astonished that anyone would speak so boldly before the Emperor himself. Turning to look directly at Charles, I cried out, with all my might, “Hie stehe ich; ich kann nicht anders. Gott hilfe mir. Amen.” “Here I stand; I can do no other. God help me, Amen.”
The next day the Emperor declared me an outlaw and a heretic. I had already run toward Wittenberg, where my prince, Elector Friedrich, staged my capture. He has kept me here at the Wartburg, hiding me, giving me safe haven and a time of productivity as well as a time of pain. It has been a time of productivity, for here not only have I finished this Bible translation, but here also I have written numerous messages to my followers, some of whom have taken my ideas too far. Here I have prepared a new form of worship, to be used instead of the old Roman mass, a form of worship in which preaching is prime and in which the singing of psalms and hymns and spiritual songs will be cultivated for the people. Indeed, I am myself writing and composing such hymns. A productive stay at the fortress Wartburg.
And yet a painful one too. Painful, for I can see that we live amid a flood of human ills. There is a flood of change coming, as the peasants of the land are rising against those who keep them poor and subjected. There is a flood of religious conflict coming, as some of the princes of this loosely-knit Empire have declared themselves Lutherans – how repugnant it is to me that my name would be on a division in Christ’s church! – and other princes have declared their fierce loyalty to Rome. Inevitably there will be war.
Moreover, there is a flood of spiritual anarchy coming, as there are groups like the Anabaptists who are abandoning all decency, making every man his own pope, even insisting that only believers are to be baptized, not infants. What a strange idea! I shall write against that. A flood of spiritual anarchy.
And there is a flood of family life change coming too, as nuns are leaving the convents and priests are marrying. Indeed, once I leave this place, there waits for me Sister Katherine von Bora, once in a convent, but now insisting that she will marry no one but Dr. Luther! So be it. It is a gift of God.
Now then, how shall I live amid this flood of human ills? Shall I retreat into silence and allow the evils of the past to overtake us again, while I dwell here in comfortable safety? Or shall I leave this fortress Wartburg and continue to teach and preach, even though it will create yet more conflict?
Wait. Fortress, refuge. Isn’t it here in the Psalms? Yes. “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea; though its waters roar and foam… Be still and know that I am God … Lord Sabaoth is with us, the God of Jacob is our [fortress] refuge.”
It is still true. What I discovered those years ago is still true. If I but trust in His unfailing love, He will guide me, He will strengthen me, He will save me. I need no other fortress; I have in Him the only true safety. Farewell, Wartburg, I must leave you now. Back to the flood of change, back to the flood of decisions to be made, back to times of uncertainty and danger. I do not need you, Wartburg fortress, for “Ein feste burg ist unser Gott” “A Mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing. Our helper He, amid the flood – amid the flood – of mortal ills prevailing; for still our ancient foe doth seek to work us woe … did we in our own strength abide, our striving would be losing; were not the right man on our side, the man of God’s own choosing.”
Oh, my friends, do you ask who that may be, who is on your side amid the flood? Christ Jesus, it is He, from age to age the same, and He must win this battle. He will win. And you too will win your salvation if you receive Him in faith. All things are yours, if you are His. Amid the flood. Amid the flood.
[Up the aisle]. I must go. I must fight on. I will prevail; and yet not I, but God Himself will prevail. “A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing; our helper He, amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing.” Prevailing. Amid the flood. Prevailing.
