Luther’s father required him to study law. At considerable expense the necessary books had been purchased, and he had begun to attend lectures on jurisprudence; but for the calling he had no love; and yet, from a sense of obedience to his father, he felt it his duty to follow the path he had prescribed. He was, however, frequently disturbed by the thought of the endangered spiritual condition of those who followed the legal profession. This conflict quickened within him the sense of his relation to the higher law, on which his obedience to his father was based. The sudden death of a friend followed shortly afterward by a narrow escape from death by lightning, in a forest on the way between Erfurt and Eisleben, determined him to obey what he then regarded as the commands of higher law. Terrified by the violence of the storm that was raging around him, and especially by the bolts of lightning that were crashing through the trees, addressing one of the patron saints of his childhood, he cried out: “Help me, dear Saint Anna, I will be a monk!”
The vow thus made was faithfully performed. Two weeks later, July 16, 1505, he invited his most intimate friends to a cheerful but frugal supper. For the last time he determined to enjoy music and song. The decision once made all sadness was gone. His intention was to tell no one of his decision, but at the very moment his guests were giving way to their gayety, he could no longer control the serious thoughts that filled his mind. They endeavored to dissuade him from his purpose, but all in vain. Sorrowfully they accompanied him the next morning to the Augustinian cloister located in the town, where he knocked for admission. As they opened, he entered. When the heavy portals of the monastery closed behind him, and the bars were fastened again, he had no idea but that he was separated from the world forever. The great struggle was at an end. Was his soul satisfied? Had he found that for which he was looking—the “peace that passeth all understanding”? We shall see in our next.
Luther was received among the novices of the monastery with sacred hymns, prayers and other solemnities. After this he was given over to the care of the master of the novices, whose duty it was to initiate them into the practices of the monastic sanctity, to observe their actual conduct, and to watch over their souls. Above all things, the will of the novices were to be entirely broken. They were to learn that everything enjoined upon them was to be performed without the least resistance, and even to be the more willing to render obedience the more it was against their own disposition and taste. Inclination to pride was to be overcome by imposing upon them the meanest services. So at the very beginning of Luther’s monastic life he was compelled to perform the most degrading work in sweeping and scrubbing, and it afforded those envious of him peculiar pleasure when he, the hitherto proud young master, was ordered, with a sack upon his shoulders, to beg through the town in company with a more experienced brother. He did not shirk from these services; but even desired to perform self-mortifying duties, so that he might the more deserve God’s favors. Of these days Luther says:
I chose for myself twenty-one saints, read mass every day, calling on three of them each day, so as to complete the circuit every week; especially did I invoke the Holy Virgin, as her womanly heart was more easily touched, that she might appease her Son. I verily thought that by invoking three saints daily, and by letting my body waste away with fastings and watchings, I should satisfy the law, and shield my conscience against the goad; but it all availed me nothing: the further I went on in this way the more I was terrified.
From this we see that Luther subjected himself to every possible form of discipline and mortification. He was a model of monkish piety. He says, “If ever a monk got to heaven by monkery, I would have gotten there.” No one could surpass him in prayers by day and night, in fasting, in vigils, self-discipline and self-mortification, and yet—had he found what his soul was looking for? There is no mistake. He is as far from peace of conscience as ever. He read the Bible, but a veil was before his eyes. Christ was still to his mind a merciless judge. The righteousness of God, which, according to Paul, was revealed in the Gospel, he took to mean the righteousness which metes out just punishment.
Finally, John Staupitz, the vicar-general of the Augustinian order, a man of sympathetic nature, and one who possessed in a singular degree the power to discern and appreciate the needs of whomsoever applied to him for aid, came to his rescue. Looking into the haggard face of Luther, he said: “Brother, you must obey God and believe in forgiveness.” “You have altogether a wrong idea of Christ. Christ does not terrify; his office is to comfort.” “You must make up your mind that you are a very sinner, and that Christ is a very Savior.” These were starting points for new currents of thought. They shed light upon many passages of scripture. For days and weeks Luther pondered over these words: “The Gospel is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth; ... For therein is revealed a righteousness of God from faith unto faith: as it is written, But the righteous shall live by faith” (Rom. 1:16, 17). Many years after receiving this help, Luther wrote:
If Dr. Staupitz, or, rather, God, through Dr. Staupitz, had not aided me in this, I would have been long since in hell.
Luther now devoted himself earnestly to the study of theology. Among other writings, he read those of Augustine more frequently and fixed them more thoroughly in his memory than any others. In 1508 his scholarship received acknowledgement by a call to the chair of philosophy in the newly-founded University of Wittenburg. As a professor he made rapid progress, and soon reached a position of great responsibility and influence.
MAKES A PILGRIMAGE TO ROME
“To make a pilgrimage to Rome; to confess in the Holy City all his sins committed from early youth; to visit the many sacred places, sacred to the memory of saints and martyrs; to avail himself of the rich influences offered there; to read mass in Rome—had been a long-cherished hope of the young monk. Hardly had he dared to look for its realization.” But all of a sudden he was sent by Staupitz to Rome to assist in the settlement of some difficulties which had arisen in the management of the monastic order. On foot, from monastery to monastery, he and his companion went across the Alps, and by the picturesque plain of Lombardy passed into Italy. Everywhere his eyes were opened, and important lessons for the future were learned.