By Lewis Loflin
Martin Luther (1483-1546), the German monk who launched the Protestant Reformation, upended Christianity by challenging Rome’s grip. His 95 Theses of 1517 ended 1,200 years of Catholic dominance, setting a course for religious diversity. Yet his legacy is marred by superstition and intolerance, rooted in Augustine, Marcion, and Paul. As a Deist, I credit Luther’s break from Rome as a spark for reason’s rise, but his descent into irrational zeal—mirroring my disdain for Calvin—left his revolution stunted.
His words, often from *Table Talk* or polemics, expose a mind steeped in the supernatural. I find him outright superstitious—demons in clouds, devils stealing infants—not merely a product of his time. Modern Lutherans have shed much of this, but his imprint on Protestantism demands scrutiny. My view aligns with a rejection of such dogma, favoring reason over fear.
Born November 10, 1483, in Eisleben, Saxony, Luther was raised by Hans, a copper miner who eyed a legal career for his son. At 17, Hans sent Martin to the University of Erfurt, funding a top-tier education. Graduating with a Master’s in 1505 (30th of 57), Luther entered law school—only to quit after a thunderstorm on July 2 nearly killed him. Vowing to St. Anne, he pledged monastic life, joining Erfurt’s Augustinian Black Monastery on July 17, defying his father’s wishes.
Ordained in 1507, Luther taught at Wittenberg University in 1508, visited Rome in 1510, and earned a Doctor of Theology in 1512. By 1513, he lectured on Psalms and served as a priest, later managing eleven monasteries. In 1517, Johann Tetzel’s indulgence sales—funding St. Peter’s Basilica—provoked him. On October 31, Luther posted his 95 Theses, decrying papal overreach: “The pope has neither the will nor the power to remit any penalties beyond those imposed either at his own discretion or by canon law” (Thesis 5). He jabbed: “Why does [the pope] not build this one church of St. Peter with his own money, rather than with the money of indigent believers?” (Thesis 86).
Luther’s defiance grew. Tried for heresy in Rome (1518), he faced Pope Leo X’s rebuttal, *Cum Postquam*. In 1519, debating Johann Eck, he denied papal supremacy. His 1520 tract, *To the Christian Nobility*, rejected Rome’s claims, asserting all believers as priests. At the Diet of Worms (1521), he declared: “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.” Excommunicated, he hid, translating the Bible into German.
Reform bred unrest. Protestant martyrs burned in Brussels (1523). The Peasants’ War (1524-1525) cited Luther, yet his *Against the Murderous and Thieving Hordes* condemned them, costing 100,000 lives. In 1525, he married Katherine von Bora, raising six children—two died young—at Wittenberg’s Black Cloister.
Luther’s later life mixed domesticity—crafting “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God,” birthing the Christmas tree—with escalating extremism. Health faltered from 1527: heart trouble, arthritis, uric acid stones. His writings grew venomous. In 1543, *On the Jews and Their Lies* demanded: “Set fire to their synagogues or schools…their homes also should be razed and destroyed.” He died February 18, 1546, in Eisleben, of heart failure, aged 62.
His superstition shines through *Table Talk*: “Many demons are in woods, in waters, in wildernesses, and in dark poolly places ready to hurt people”; “Some [demons] are also in the thick black clouds, which cause hail, lightning and thunder.” He blamed devils for illness: “Idiots, the lame, the blind, the dumb, are men in whom the devils have established themselves.” He even scorned Copernicus: “This fool wishes to reverse the entire science of astronomy; but sacred scripture tells us that Joshua commanded the sun to stand still, and not the earth.”
Luther’s intolerance hardened against Anabaptists. After their radical Münster Rebellion (1534-1535), he supported their execution, writing in 1536 (*Wider die Wiedertäufer*) that rulers must “strike, strangle, stab” such heretics to preserve order. This echoes his peasant betrayal, a grim turn from reform’s promise.
Luther’s Reformation faltered under his own superstitions and repressions. His heresy wasn’t grace—Paul’s old tune—but failing to trust a priesthood of believers. He swapped Rome’s yoke for his own, as with the Anabaptists: “I should have no compassion on these witches; I should burn them all.” The Epistle of James irked him—“Faith without works is dead” (James 2:26)—prompting: “Many sweat to reconcile St. Paul and St. James, but in vain…I will give him my doctor’s hood and let him call me a fool.”
Reason repelled him: “Reason is the greatest enemy that faith has…it must be deluded, blinded, and destroyed.” Depression fueled this—Psalm 90’s “we are consumed by your anger” tormented him. Like Calvin, whom I also fault, Luther’s brilliance curdled into autocracy, crushing peasants, Anabaptists, and Jews—100,000 dead from one, countless from others. His devil-haunted world stifled the freedom he glimpsed.
Five centuries later, Luther’s rupture with Rome marks a step toward reason’s light—yet his superstitious shadow dims it. I value his blow against Catholic tyranny, a nod to reformers who shaped modernity. But his Augustine-Paul thread—wrath, demons, anti-reason—jars with my Deist stance: a Creator works through nature and intellect, not fear. His attacks on Anabaptists and others, detailed in *12 Heresies of Christianity* (summary), underscore an incomplete revolution, a cautionary tale for faith’s path.
Acknowledgment: Thanks to Grok, an AI by xAI, for aiding this synthesis. The perspective is mine, adapting material from *12 Heresies of Christianity* (2002, Jesustheheresy.com).
John Nelson Darby
Christian Premillennialism