Stupid Freedom: A Novel Take on the Late Luther
By Martin Lohrmann, Copyright by Martin Lohrmann. All rights reserved.
Now Available: Stupid Freedom in paperback and ebook!
Edited, revised, and revised and edited again, Stupid Freedom is now available in paperback and as an ebook!
Get it out here: Stupid Freedom: A Novel Take on the Late Luther.
From the back cover:
In this work of historical imagination, Pastor Bugenhagen spends time with his friend and parishioner Martin Luther. Risking poor health and bad weather, the aging Luther is about to leave Wittenberg for a trip to Eisleben. Before he goes, Bugenhagen and Luther share time with students, family, and each other as they remember where they've been and wonder what their Reformation has meant.
Get it out here: Stupid Freedom: A Novel Take on the Late Luther.
From the back cover:
In this work of historical imagination, Pastor Bugenhagen spends time with his friend and parishioner Martin Luther. Risking poor health and bad weather, the aging Luther is about to leave Wittenberg for a trip to Eisleben. Before he goes, Bugenhagen and Luther share time with students, family, and each other as they remember where they've been and wonder what their Reformation has meant.
Stupid Freedom
1: Preface to the Reader
From Johannes Bugenhagen Pomeranus, pastor and professor in Wittenberg. Greetings in Christ.
This little book is about time I spent with my friend, teacher, brother, parishioner, and father in Christ, Dr. Martin Luther. He was my friend. I think about these things a lot, realizing that I'll probably die soon, too. “What shall I say? All flesh is grass; yet the word of the Lord endures forever.” Father Luther changed my life, usually for the better, though sometimes I wonder. In any case, I thank God for him every day.
I'm old now, so my memory sometimes fails me. Sometimes I know I remember things differently than they happened, but that’s what I have. You're welcome to ask other people what they think happened.
Though I tend to ramble, one of the things I loved about Martin was how quickly he got to the point. As a student he read books by William of Ockham, who lived 200 years before us. Ockham taught us to cut away the edges and get right to the heart of the matter. That’s good advice. It even has its own nickname: “Ockham’s razor.”
So I'll get right to it: in this book about Luther, you are the heart of the matter.
No one in creation experiences the world as you do, feels the wind and sun as you do, has the thoughts that you do, lives among the same people in the same ways as you. This is a holy miracle of God. You are a holy miracle of God.
My life as a small-town pastor and teacher who got tangled up with Luther in the unlikely work of reforming church and society has shown me that daily miracles like these are the easiest for people to overlook, despise and even reject. How can the little things in the world be enough? Why do the things we see through the windows of our eyes matter? Here in Wittenberg, we live in a small town in an obscure corner of a loosely-bound empire. And yet, just as our Lord promised his disciples when they wondered about the value of what they were seeing and hearing, Jesus promised, “Blessed are your eyes, for they see, and your ears, for they hear. For truly I tell you that many prophets and righteous ones have desired to see what you see, and have not seen them; or to hear what you have heard, and yet have not heard." Our witness, words, and works matter simply because God said so. Trusting that the Lord hears, knows and loves his little ones, the world becomes a different place. When you start to believe that, you are well on the way of the cross with Jesus.
What's the cross? At this point in my life, I have to admit that when I look at Jesus' cross I see yet another pious reformer stopped in his tracks before he could complete his idealistic mission. Enemies of peace, reconciliation and love did what they could to put an end to nonsense like loving enemies, sharing with neighbors, and taking the high road. Their low road seemed to rolling along smoothly enough. The crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth confirmed what everyone already knew: change in this world does not come from love, truth or humility; it comes from power and violence, whether underhanded, backhanded, or heavy-handed.
But the Lord of life couldn't be stopped by force, violence, lies or domination of others. Jesus rose. Death became life. Sin became salvation. He is alive and he gives us that same unstoppable life. I've seen his life working in the world enough to know that it's what I want my life to be about.
Of course, the cross is still a cross. My path with Christ has led me not away from trouble but into some dark doubts, hard questions, and painful truths. I wouldn't have made it on my own. But I never was alone. From the scriptures, especially as Father Luther so clearly explained them, I learned that the Crucified One was with me. In my times of abandonment and loss, I remembered that Christ himself was abandoned and lost. Crazy at it sounds, then, I learned that I can't be closer to him than when I seem to have lost everything. I'm there again today as I write this, because of the pain in my heart and the suffering that fills this stupid world. Christ could not be closer.
Even though this story is about me and Martin, our friends and families and struggles, it's also about you. You're a fellow pilgrim through life. The same Lord who walked with us is also with you. He's yours.
As I often told my congregation, I can be a shepherd and point you to Christ but I can't make you believe a single word of it for yourself. That's between you and your Lord. No one can know the state of another person’s soul. We remain wonderful mysteries to each other, and even to ourselves. And yet, some things are not so mysterious: Jesus came to gather us to himself. The Holy Spirit calls, gathers, enlightens and sanctifies the little ones of God, often despite themselves. Our Lord is the Good Shepherd who laid down his life for the sheep and who emptied himself to give us his goodness. If we wonder what this all means, then we keep seeking. Jesus promised we will find what we need.
To say it again: you are the heart of the matter. I offer this story as a little extra traveling company for your road trip through life, your way into freedom. Peace.
1: Preface to the Reader
From Johannes Bugenhagen Pomeranus, pastor and professor in Wittenberg. Greetings in Christ.
This little book is about time I spent with my friend, teacher, brother, parishioner, and father in Christ, Dr. Martin Luther. He was my friend. I think about these things a lot, realizing that I'll probably die soon, too. “What shall I say? All flesh is grass; yet the word of the Lord endures forever.” Father Luther changed my life, usually for the better, though sometimes I wonder. In any case, I thank God for him every day.
I'm old now, so my memory sometimes fails me. Sometimes I know I remember things differently than they happened, but that’s what I have. You're welcome to ask other people what they think happened.
Though I tend to ramble, one of the things I loved about Martin was how quickly he got to the point. As a student he read books by William of Ockham, who lived 200 years before us. Ockham taught us to cut away the edges and get right to the heart of the matter. That’s good advice. It even has its own nickname: “Ockham’s razor.”
So I'll get right to it: in this book about Luther, you are the heart of the matter.
No one in creation experiences the world as you do, feels the wind and sun as you do, has the thoughts that you do, lives among the same people in the same ways as you. This is a holy miracle of God. You are a holy miracle of God.
My life as a small-town pastor and teacher who got tangled up with Luther in the unlikely work of reforming church and society has shown me that daily miracles like these are the easiest for people to overlook, despise and even reject. How can the little things in the world be enough? Why do the things we see through the windows of our eyes matter? Here in Wittenberg, we live in a small town in an obscure corner of a loosely-bound empire. And yet, just as our Lord promised his disciples when they wondered about the value of what they were seeing and hearing, Jesus promised, “Blessed are your eyes, for they see, and your ears, for they hear. For truly I tell you that many prophets and righteous ones have desired to see what you see, and have not seen them; or to hear what you have heard, and yet have not heard." Our witness, words, and works matter simply because God said so. Trusting that the Lord hears, knows and loves his little ones, the world becomes a different place. When you start to believe that, you are well on the way of the cross with Jesus.
What's the cross? At this point in my life, I have to admit that when I look at Jesus' cross I see yet another pious reformer stopped in his tracks before he could complete his idealistic mission. Enemies of peace, reconciliation and love did what they could to put an end to nonsense like loving enemies, sharing with neighbors, and taking the high road. Their low road seemed to rolling along smoothly enough. The crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth confirmed what everyone already knew: change in this world does not come from love, truth or humility; it comes from power and violence, whether underhanded, backhanded, or heavy-handed.
But the Lord of life couldn't be stopped by force, violence, lies or domination of others. Jesus rose. Death became life. Sin became salvation. He is alive and he gives us that same unstoppable life. I've seen his life working in the world enough to know that it's what I want my life to be about.
Of course, the cross is still a cross. My path with Christ has led me not away from trouble but into some dark doubts, hard questions, and painful truths. I wouldn't have made it on my own. But I never was alone. From the scriptures, especially as Father Luther so clearly explained them, I learned that the Crucified One was with me. In my times of abandonment and loss, I remembered that Christ himself was abandoned and lost. Crazy at it sounds, then, I learned that I can't be closer to him than when I seem to have lost everything. I'm there again today as I write this, because of the pain in my heart and the suffering that fills this stupid world. Christ could not be closer.
Even though this story is about me and Martin, our friends and families and struggles, it's also about you. You're a fellow pilgrim through life. The same Lord who walked with us is also with you. He's yours.
As I often told my congregation, I can be a shepherd and point you to Christ but I can't make you believe a single word of it for yourself. That's between you and your Lord. No one can know the state of another person’s soul. We remain wonderful mysteries to each other, and even to ourselves. And yet, some things are not so mysterious: Jesus came to gather us to himself. The Holy Spirit calls, gathers, enlightens and sanctifies the little ones of God, often despite themselves. Our Lord is the Good Shepherd who laid down his life for the sheep and who emptied himself to give us his goodness. If we wonder what this all means, then we keep seeking. Jesus promised we will find what we need.
To say it again: you are the heart of the matter. I offer this story as a little extra traveling company for your road trip through life, your way into freedom. Peace.
2: The Dear Old Turd
He was in good form again, entertaining us with stories and sayings. Students, guests and friends sat around his large kitchen table, while the household workers went about their chores, welcome to stop and listen in as they were able. As much as he talked, his deep eyes still gave the feeling that they could share even more.
“The world is like a peasant who drinks too much beer and then tries to ride a horse,” he said. “As soon as you set him up in the saddle, he starts to fall off. Then, when you try to push him back up again, he just rolls off the other side. That’s the world we live in, back and forth to the end of time.” We laughed at the humor of it, the sad truth of it.
“As for me, I am no better. For me, the world is an anus and I am ripe piece of crap ready to leave it. Soon we shall be parted and no one will lament such a passing.” Another mixture of laughter and sadness, to what felt like good effect.
The students seemed to like the shock value of it. Strangely, the more I let myself imagine such a crude description of passing from this life into the next, the more it struck me as fitting. This flesh is born, lives and breathes while it can, and then decays. All flesh is grass. And yet, while I could feel the truth of it in my own aging flesh, part of me suddenly grew sad to think of applying such an inevitable truth to the speaker himself. I could feel how much I would miss the old turd when he passed. He continued his theme.
“I have always thought a lot about dying. While some people might think that’s morose or foolish, it seems only natural to me. We're born and we will die. Not thinking about it would be like ignoring the fact that clouds are coming on the horizon. As the old hymn says, ‘In the midst of life, we are in death.’ Back in the old days—which you younger folks missed out on—the point of thinking about death so much as to give you a real fear of the wrath to come. To soothe your fears, then, you were supposed to run over to the church, do whatever pious things the priest told you to do, and maybe leave a little money behind. Repeat as needed. Pastor Bugenhagen, Master Philip and I tried to put an end to all that. Now we send you to Christ himself. If you run to the church, it’s because that’s the best place to meet him, because he has promised to always be there. Save your money to care for those around you and be generous with it, just as God is generous to us. Jesus doesn’t need our coins, but your family and your neighbors do.”
Here he is giving me too much credit. Philip and I came later, after he had already started a Reformation. But we’ve been here a long time now, which counts for something. And anyway, the students like to hear the stories of the old days.
“Even so,” he continued. “It’s hard to think about death. So many people near and dear to me have died. Sometimes it still hurts me to the core. I can’t even begin to name the many saints I miss every day. It’s hard to think about being dead, truly not existing, and wondering what happens to us or to the people we love. But it’s the way of all flesh. Only fools pretend death won't come to them.” Luther took a sip of his beer, answering a question that had come to him while he paused.
“What is death like? Following the scriptures, I like to think about death as a new birth. It’s a scary and dangerous thing to be born, when life and death come so close together for both the mother and the child. The baby has no idea what is happening to it. There it was: nice and cozy in the womb. Then comes all this pushing and getting forced through an impossibly narrow door. That must be a terribly frightening thing to experience: the baby must be thinking, ‘how can this possibly end well?’ And yet, that’s how life begins. The mothers, too, are in great danger at such a time. Life and death walk side-by-side in those moments and it’s hard to know how it will end. Dying is the same. It can seem impossibly dark and frightening, mortally perilous. And yet, that is how eternal life begins. As Christ himself said in John 16, ‘When a woman is in labor, she experiences great pain, for her hour has come; but once the child has come, she no longer thinks about the pain because of the joy of bringing a new person into the world. So you will have pain now, but then you will rejoice with a joy that no one can take from you.’ Like that mother, like that child, we meet new life in the scariest of places, and our weeping will be turned to joy.”
Dear God, I'm gonna miss this man, this crazy old monk that he still is. I can tell he loves being here at the table, talking so freely in a house where he used to keep so much silence. In the old days, he lived here with his Augustinian brothers. Now he lives in it with his wife, children, household servants, student boarders, and assorted guests. Instead of reporting to his monastic superior, he has transferred his vow of obedience to Katie, whom he lovingly calls the Lord of the Manor, a title she richly deserves. Still, I appreciate how strange it is for him to sit at this table and talk to whichever character around here will listen, when almost everything about such a scene would have been absurd twenty years ago. I watch, I listen, and in his eyes I can see the wonder of an old monk delighted to be part of such a holy adventure. Fatigue and sorrow are there, too, but also the wonder.
He was in good form again, entertaining us with stories and sayings. Students, guests and friends sat around his large kitchen table, while the household workers went about their chores, welcome to stop and listen in as they were able. As much as he talked, his deep eyes still gave the feeling that they could share even more.
“The world is like a peasant who drinks too much beer and then tries to ride a horse,” he said. “As soon as you set him up in the saddle, he starts to fall off. Then, when you try to push him back up again, he just rolls off the other side. That’s the world we live in, back and forth to the end of time.” We laughed at the humor of it, the sad truth of it.
“As for me, I am no better. For me, the world is an anus and I am ripe piece of crap ready to leave it. Soon we shall be parted and no one will lament such a passing.” Another mixture of laughter and sadness, to what felt like good effect.
The students seemed to like the shock value of it. Strangely, the more I let myself imagine such a crude description of passing from this life into the next, the more it struck me as fitting. This flesh is born, lives and breathes while it can, and then decays. All flesh is grass. And yet, while I could feel the truth of it in my own aging flesh, part of me suddenly grew sad to think of applying such an inevitable truth to the speaker himself. I could feel how much I would miss the old turd when he passed. He continued his theme.
“I have always thought a lot about dying. While some people might think that’s morose or foolish, it seems only natural to me. We're born and we will die. Not thinking about it would be like ignoring the fact that clouds are coming on the horizon. As the old hymn says, ‘In the midst of life, we are in death.’ Back in the old days—which you younger folks missed out on—the point of thinking about death so much as to give you a real fear of the wrath to come. To soothe your fears, then, you were supposed to run over to the church, do whatever pious things the priest told you to do, and maybe leave a little money behind. Repeat as needed. Pastor Bugenhagen, Master Philip and I tried to put an end to all that. Now we send you to Christ himself. If you run to the church, it’s because that’s the best place to meet him, because he has promised to always be there. Save your money to care for those around you and be generous with it, just as God is generous to us. Jesus doesn’t need our coins, but your family and your neighbors do.”
Here he is giving me too much credit. Philip and I came later, after he had already started a Reformation. But we’ve been here a long time now, which counts for something. And anyway, the students like to hear the stories of the old days.
“Even so,” he continued. “It’s hard to think about death. So many people near and dear to me have died. Sometimes it still hurts me to the core. I can’t even begin to name the many saints I miss every day. It’s hard to think about being dead, truly not existing, and wondering what happens to us or to the people we love. But it’s the way of all flesh. Only fools pretend death won't come to them.” Luther took a sip of his beer, answering a question that had come to him while he paused.
“What is death like? Following the scriptures, I like to think about death as a new birth. It’s a scary and dangerous thing to be born, when life and death come so close together for both the mother and the child. The baby has no idea what is happening to it. There it was: nice and cozy in the womb. Then comes all this pushing and getting forced through an impossibly narrow door. That must be a terribly frightening thing to experience: the baby must be thinking, ‘how can this possibly end well?’ And yet, that’s how life begins. The mothers, too, are in great danger at such a time. Life and death walk side-by-side in those moments and it’s hard to know how it will end. Dying is the same. It can seem impossibly dark and frightening, mortally perilous. And yet, that is how eternal life begins. As Christ himself said in John 16, ‘When a woman is in labor, she experiences great pain, for her hour has come; but once the child has come, she no longer thinks about the pain because of the joy of bringing a new person into the world. So you will have pain now, but then you will rejoice with a joy that no one can take from you.’ Like that mother, like that child, we meet new life in the scariest of places, and our weeping will be turned to joy.”
Dear God, I'm gonna miss this man, this crazy old monk that he still is. I can tell he loves being here at the table, talking so freely in a house where he used to keep so much silence. In the old days, he lived here with his Augustinian brothers. Now he lives in it with his wife, children, household servants, student boarders, and assorted guests. Instead of reporting to his monastic superior, he has transferred his vow of obedience to Katie, whom he lovingly calls the Lord of the Manor, a title she richly deserves. Still, I appreciate how strange it is for him to sit at this table and talk to whichever character around here will listen, when almost everything about such a scene would have been absurd twenty years ago. I watch, I listen, and in his eyes I can see the wonder of an old monk delighted to be part of such a holy adventure. Fatigue and sorrow are there, too, but also the wonder.
If you have enjoyed this, the rest of the book is available in paperback & electronically.
Follow this link - Stupid Freedom: A Novel Take on the Late Luther
Thanks for reading!
Follow this link - Stupid Freedom: A Novel Take on the Late Luther
Thanks for reading!