Rector’s Reflections
Thursday 22nd May 2025
Why the Church of England needs Martin Luther
In yesterday’s reflections, I introduced the subject of Martin Luther (1483-1546), the founder of the German Reformation. Luther has proved to be one of the most influential theologians of the last 500 years, although historically his influence on the development of the Church of England has been somewhat limited. This is, I think, a pity, as Martin Luther has much to teach us, especially as we face the particular challenges of our own day. But before I expand further on this topic, let me provide a brief sketch of Luther’s life.
Luther was born in Saxony in 1483, at a time when the Middle Ages were coming to an end and the Modern World was just beginning to emerge. His father was a miner, and so Martin did not come from a privileged background. But he was a bright boy, and after attending the Cathedral School at Magdeburg, he had the opportunity of further study at Erfurt university. Having finished his university course, Martin was then faced with the question which has challenged many and young man or woman: what do I do next? Further academic study? A “proper job” in the “real world”? Or perhaps something completely different?
Martin enjoyed theology and the university life. In 1508, he was appointed to a post at the newly founded University of Wittenberg; he then left for a few years, but returned in 1511, as a professor of Scripture. Luther retained his university post for the rest of his life. Luther enjoyed teaching and expounding the bible, but the life of an academic did not fully satisfy him. There was something missing. What was it?
Was Martin being called to seek a successful career in the Church? In those days, the Church offered many opportunities for an ambitious young man to build a successful and lucrative career. Martin did indeed join the Church, but he did so in a surprising way: instead of becoming a career cleric, he decided to become a monk. Monks were and are committed to lives of poverty and chastity. (Technically, Luther was a friar, because he joined the Order of the Augustinian Hermits, but to all intents and purposes he became a monk). This was when Martin was in his early 20s. It was a surprising thing to do. Martin was clever, highly educated, and apparently just the sort of person to achieve high office in the church or in the secular world. But he also profoundly religious, and his personal relationship with God came before anything else. He felt God was calling him to be monk, and so that was that: he would be an academic and a monk, and then he would be happy.
I wonder what his father and mother thought about this? They might have rather disappointed. Their highly gifted son wasn’t going to a make a successful career for himself, after all. It seemed that he had thrown his life and gifts away. He had decided to become a monk and an academic, and doubtless would live out the rest of years in harmless obscurity.
But God had other plans. Yes, Martin had become a monk and an academic – and not just any academic, but a Doctor of Theology and a university professor. But he still wasn’t happy in himself. By the time Martin was about 30 or so, he was suffering an acute spiritual crisis. Martin should have drawn comfort from his attendance at daily Mass and from the recital of the Daily Office. But these pious exercises were not bringing him spiritual comfort. Why was Martin so unhappy?
It might have been in part to do with Martin’s personality. His personality has been described as “passionate and melancholy”, and it might be that he was undergoing what a modern-day secular psychologist might describe as a mental breakdown. On the other hand, our personalities are often interwoven with our spiritual lives, and if Martin was indeed suffering a mental breakdown, it might well have been the result of his spiritual struggles. It is fair to add that Martin belonged to the Augustinian order, and the Augustinians tended to promote a theology which could be somewhat pessimistic about human nature. (For many Augustinians, the starting point in our understanding of who we are is to realise that we are miserable sinners who are heading straight to Hell – not the most comforting of doctrines). Martin’s daily diet of Augustinian theology would probably have been enough to depress the spirits of the cheeriest of souls.
For whatever reason, by the time Martin was about 30 years old, he had reached a point of spiritual crisis. What was he to do about this? In the answer to this question lies the origins of the Reformation, and we shall look at this in tomorrow’s reflections.