Martin Luther and the Called Life

Mark D. Tranvik

• Publisher: Fortress Press
• Year: 2016
• Print ISBN: 9781451490114
• eBook ISBN: 9781506410388
• Topic: Theology & Religion
• Subtopic: Christian Denominations

One of the hallmarks of Luther's theology was its concern for daily life. In the midst of debates about justification and salvation, church authority, and the Lord's Supper, he bore a deep concern for daily Christian life.

In this refreshing book, Mark D. Tranvik looks at the importance of vocation in Luther's own life and in doing so discovers renewed insights into this important doctrine.

Vocation, the called life, is a way of understanding that all of life is under the care and interest of God. All of our activities as a spouse, parent, child, worker, citizen, and church member are a part of a called life.

Tranvik begins the book with a clear exposition of Luther's context, with a focus on how the reformer actually lived out his own calling. He rapidly moves into the contemporary sphere, drawing on twenty years of teaching and interaction with undergraduate students to outline how a renewed understanding of vocation is a powerful and liberating tool for life in the twenty-first century.

2

The Called Life

4

It Gets Personal

God calls . . . me. It is not selfish or self-centered to affirm the profoundly personal dimension of vocation. . . . Against the generic ideal of monastic life, Luther argued that Christ calls each of us to serve God and neighbor where we are, as we are. It is a specific person, not a state of life that Christ addresses. The plan that is divine providence stretches out across all of human history, touching billions of individuals—each with his or her own history and complex psychology, each with a story that is unique. To speak of the God who calls without at the same time attending to the person who hears this call is to distort the divine-human dialogue. It misses something central to vocation.^[1]

Following his dramatic testimony at the Diet of Worms in 1521, Martin Luther was “kidnapped” by his prince and brought to his imposing Wartburg Castle in Eisenach, Germany. This was for Luther’s own protection, and also to allow the tense stand-off between the reformer and Rome to cool down. Save for one brief visit to Wittenberg in disguise, Luther remained at the Wartburg for nine months. During this time of enforced solitude, he exercised his calling as a teacher and preacher. Most famously, Luther translated the New Testament from Greek into German so that the literate people could read the Bible for themselves. He also wrote “model sermons” on biblical texts to assist other pastors who were leading the fragile reform movement.

However, in 1522, Luther feels called to end his imprisonment. He receives word from Wittenberg that some of the city and church leaders were moving too quickly and disturbing the consciences of the faithful. Pastors were getting married, images in churches were being destroyed, and Holy Communion was being distributed in both kinds. None of this was essentially against what Luther had been advocating, though he was not generally in favor of destroying images. But it was happening too fast. Disorder and confusion reigned in the city. Luther felt strongly that people needed to be educated before embarking on wholesale changes in church practice.

Luther’s return to Wittenberg was risky, and not just for him. As a condemned heretic, he was under the ban of the empire. This also meant peril for anyone who publicly aided him. The prince of Electoral Saxony, Frederick the Wise, once again demonstrated great courage in allowing his condemned theology professor to publicly teach and preach. But most notable is what Luther said when he returned to Wittenberg.

He is scheduled immediately to give eight sermons in the city church. There is turmoil and agitation in the air. But Luther does not begin his preaching by scolding or threatening his listeners. Instead, he says the following:

The summons of death comes to us all, and no one can die for another. Everyone must fight his own battle with death by himself, alone. We can shout into another’s ears, but everyone must himself be prepared for the time of death, for I will not be with you then, nor you with me. Therefore, everyone must know and be armed with the chief things that concern a Christian.^[2]

Luther’s rhetoric is intensely personal. In the midst of Wittenberg’s unrest, he makes a solemn call for a sense of perspective. It is a “momento mori” moment, which is a Latin phrase meaning “remember you are to die.” In other words, what is important right now for his listeners is that they recall who they are, and especially, the indisputable fact that, one day, their time on earth will cease and they will be called to account before God.

The sermon will go on to remind the people of Wittenberg of their calling in this situation. Luther cautions them about the need for patience with those upset over the changes. He counsels a faith active in love of neighbor—a love that keeps in mind not just what is allowed, but what is best for the community. But for our purposes, it is important to note where he begins. A sense of calling begins not with a consideration of the surrounding circumstances, but rather, with a laser-like focus on the self standing before God.

The Call is Personal

When discussing the personal dimension of vocation with reference to Luther, some words of caution are in order. Two concerns need to be addressed. The first is the tendency of some modern historians to see Luther as the herald of modern individualism. Often pointing to Luther’s daring words at the Diet of Worms (“Here I stand, I can do no other”), he is cited as an early of example of the individual breaking free of the church-state monolith of the Middle Ages. Luther becomes the first “modern man,” a precursor of the Enlightenment’s emphasis on individual autonomy. But Luther was hardly arguing for self-sufficiency, as it would be understood in the eighteenth century. In his speech at Worms, he stressed to his audience that his conscience was “captive to the Word of God.” In other words, Luther was not standing up for the truth as determined by his own best lights. His protest rested on a deep engagement with Scripture and a long tradition of biblical interpretation. In his mind, the self is never “alone” and certainly not “autonomous,” but rather, standing under the authority of God’s Word.

A second concern is to warn against seeing Luther’s views on vocation through the lens of the modern preoccupation with the self. Philip Rieff’s The Triumph of the Therapeutic is a significant discussion of this phenomenon. According to Rieff, there are three ages in Western history. The first is the age of the “political man,” as represented by the Greeks and their concern for the well-being of the polis. The second is the Christian period and its concern with the relationship between God and the soul. And the present age is one Rieff calls that of the “psychological man.” Having banished God, we are left with the SELF. The inevitable consequence can be seen in our present culture and its incessant desire for personal peace and happiness. Organized religion has jumped on this bandwagon to the point where it is commonly accepted that faith is not an end in itself, but a means to feeling good about oneself. As Rieff memorably put it: “Religious man was born to be saved; psychological man is born to be pleased. . . .”^[3]

Having registered these important caveats, it is important to underline that Luther’s understanding of vocation does begin with the individual, but not in the modern matrix of self-concern. A good example can be found in The Freedom of a Christian. As noted earlier, Luther wrote this treatise in 1520, shortly before he was excommunicated by Rome. His concern was to provide an overview of his teaching for what he called the “common” people. He felt his views were being distorted by his enemies and even misunderstood by some of his allies. So, he wanted to compose a work that summarized his teaching in simple language that could be understood by his growing audience of readers. The essay is divided into two parts. The first part discusses how Christ frees a Christian (with a substantial discussion of the joyous exchange). In the second half of the work, Luther talks about how Christian liberty leads to being bound to the needs of the neighbor. Except, he does not start with the neighbor—he starts with the self, and then, proceeds to a discussion of how our good works are to benefit others. Luther’s interpreters often neglect this crucial point. While the neighbor is always the goal of Christian love, that love must first pass through the crucible of the self.^[4]

This theme will be underlined throughout Luther’s works. Perhaps its most famous expression comes in TheSmall Catechism, written in 1529 in order to nurture the faith and life of pastors and congregational members. Luther and his circle of reformers were wary of faith that rested only on the “facts” of the Bible. They dismissed this as a fides historica or “historical faith” that remained in the mind and did not sink down to the level of the heart.^[5] For example, when discussing the Apostles’ Creed and the belief in the “first article” (I believe in God the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth), he uses the following language:

I believe that God has created me together with all that exists. God has given me and still preserves my body and soul. . . . God protects me from all danger and shields and preserves me from all evil. . . .^[6]

Luther certainly wants Christians to know the content of the creed. But he also realizes that creedal language can be abstract and lifeless. It is important for the believer to know how he or she connects personally with this statement of faith. God doesn’t just create in general—God has created all that exists and, most importantly, God has created me.

So, we have established for Luther the importance of the individual. God’s call does not come in general, but to living human beings, each in his or her own particular circumstance. Given this emphasis on the individual in Luther’s thinking, what does this practically mean for understanding his views on vocation?

Called to Die

I realize the title of this section sounds rather ominous. But if we use Luther and his views on baptism as our point of reference for thinking about vocation, then it makes a lot of sense. As mentioned above, Luther’s first words to his congregation upon his return to Wittenberg from the Wartburg Castle were a reminder that, someday, they will die. He was referring here, of course, to the physical death that faces everyone. But he also stressed in many places that, in baptism, we are called to a daily (hourly?) death that is usually defined as repentance. The rhythm of the individual Christian life involves a regular acknowledgment of our own desire to seize control and confine God to a marginal role in our lives. The result is that we twist and distort our relationships with others. We end up conforming to what the Apostle Paul called the “spirit of this world” (I Cor. 2:12).

Luther recognized this in The Freedom of a Christian. He saw our freedom in Christ being threatened by our tendency to look to activities and objects outside ourselves as validation of our status. In his day, that meant becoming a monk or...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Table Of Contents
• Acknowledgements
• Abbreviations
• Martin Luther Timeline
• Introduction
• Luther’s Calling
• The Called Life
• Index of Names
• Partial Index of Subjects