It is the year 1516. Emma, the prettiest nun in the Monastery of Marienthron, enters the bedroom and sits on her bed. As she rubs her hand and then her neck, she remembers her long day, and her deeply concerned eyes stare at the ground. After a while, she snaps out of it and starts undressing. She first takes the veil off, and then the coif, and puts them on the bed. Her black hair is naked now. She then continues by unbuttoning her dress. Her bare neck out of hiding, the thoughts come back to her again. The next buttons undone, her hand reaches over the black veil. She holds the veil before her and takes a good look at it. “I talked to Charlotte today,” she says.
“Oh, how’s her handsome husband? Lucas was it?” 18-year-old Marie asks excitedly. Not optimistic to see their daughter in a wedding dress, Marie’s parents made her take the vows a few months ago, the moment she met the minimum age requirement. She has already changed to her sleepwear, lying on her bed, face down. Although Anna and Leah, who were compassionately listening to Emma, turn to Marie and give her judgmental looks, there is no symptom of shame or even embarrassment on her face. She dismissively turns her look away and rolls to the other side of the bed.
“She couldn’t stop crying,” Emma continues. “They took her family farm in place of ever-increasing taxes that they couldn’t pay. They now have to live as serfs for the rest of their lives.”
“What did you tell her? Katharina asks. The nuns turn to her.
Katharina von Bora stands toward the window, looking at the birds flying in the sky that is now ablaze with the fire of the setting sun. Her hands pressed hard against the window, she wishes that she could jump out, fly to the limitless sky, and join the free birds in their harmonic dance.
“I prayed,” Emma responds. “What else could I do? I told her that this is God’s plan—”
“Why blame everything on God?” Katharina shouts with a frustrated tone.
“That is what Father Elias told—”
“God doesn’t want his children to suffer,” Katharina snaps while turning back from the window. Leah, the most senior nun in the room, leans away from her. Others gasp. “God is compassionate,” Katharina continues. “How could a compassionate God want his children enslaved, while a few become wealthier and wealthier every day?”
Leah, the most senior nun in the room, jumps in. “What else could we do? We are nuns! We pray. That’s what we do. That’s what we are. We are confined to these walls for the rest of our lives. We have devoted our lives to religion, remember?”
That pushes Katharina too far. “This is not religion,” she shouts. “This,” she points to the room, “this,” she hits the wall, “this is not religion.” Katharina puts her hand on her chest. “This is religion. Religion is all about love—what we feel in here, not what we fear out there; not what Father Elias tells us.”
“Oh, Katharina, not again!” Anna says condescendingly. “That man, Luther, you read his pamphlets again, didn’t you?”
“The church is not religion,” Katharina continues. “They are just a system, institutionalizing their interpretation.” She turns to Anna. “Yes, I have. You should too. He is onto something. He feels the pain of the masses. He wants to reform the church to bring it back to its roots.”
Katharina turns back to the window, pressing her hands against it. “I wish I was free too to go out there, do something, help the reformation.”