The door opens. Luther turns to the door. Pfaffinger hastily enters. He looks mad. That worries Luther. Without offering any greetings, Pfaffinger starts talking. “Horrible news from Allstedt! Peasants have revolved. Riots are spreading like the Black Death.”
“Violence!” Luther exclaims. “Again! Thomas is there. We should get him to talk to the peasants. Did we send the Bible to them?”
“Your buddy,” Pfaffinger says with grinding teeth, “Thomas Müntzer, is the one leading the rebels.”
Luther is shocked.
Pfaffinger gives it a few seconds to sink in. “And yes,” he continues, “they have your bible.” “In German,” he says with a sneer.
“That is… How could… I… I should talk to Thomas. I’ll write to him.”
“Yeah, you better do that. Get your buddy under control.”
“Are you sure they have the Bible in German?”
Pfaffinger sneers and leaves without saying a word. Luther, left in humiliation, watches him walk away.
Flashback to the year 1522. Luther, sitting behind a modest desk in Wartburg Castle, translates the Bible. The crickets’ inharmonic orchestra plays a symphony of suspense. Something is about to happen. The burning candles are about to finish.
Fighting doubts on how to finish the translation of Romans 3:28, Luther takes another look at the Greek text, which reads: ‘So now we hold, that man is justified without the help of the works of the law, through faith‘. He takes the pen off the paper, and takes another look at the Greek words: ‘through faith‘.
There is no one there but Luther and his unconscious conscience. An army of crickets take the place of the quiet conscience, and one after another scream at Luther. Luther’s ears, however, have grown numb to warnings.
After a few seconds, Luther gathers the will and takes the pen out of the ink jar. Ignoring the entreaty of his shaking hand, he finishes the sentence by injecting the word ‘alone‘ in between. The full phrase becomes ‘alone through faith.’ It is written now and it will remain written for at least the next 500 years. Luther has done the deed—He must have assumed that it is a good one.
The ground shaking beneath his feet, Luther hears the sound of a fire catching on.
Fire devours a book that is thrown on the ground of the monastery.
It is the year 1525, when the Protestant Iconoclasm—the social belief in the importance of the destruction of icons and other images or monuments—mixes with peasant rebellion against the ruling class. The impact of Luther’s Invocavit Sermons being worn out after three years, the peasant unrest has resurfaced, this time amplified with three years worth of pain.
Rebels destroy the monastery, setting fire here and there. A large glass window and the religious painting on it shatter to pieces when stones are thrown at it one after another. A stick smacks the Santa Maria statue and cuts the head off. The head, lying on the ground, watches the Jesus statue on the cross getting cut in half with a strike of an ax.
An old, skinny monk slowly rises to his knees in front of a painting of Jesus Christ engulfed in flames. The monk with tearful eyes looks around the monastery and watches how it is being destroyed. He tries to scream, but nothing comes out but a muffled whimper. After swallowing his spit and taking a deep breath, he gathers all the strength that is left in him and screams: “For the love of Jesus Christ—”
Before he could finish his last words, a farmer’s digging fork is thrust through his back and comes out of his chest.
The peasant behind him appears when the monk falls. Although a different person, his hair and outfit remind of Otto, the farmer whose land was taken away from him. The peasant is frozen, staring at the corpse. As he breathes rapidly, he moves his murdering hands up and takes a good look at them. Gradually realizing the true nature of his deed, he yells in madness while stepping back. He then runs away with a SCREAM after his eyes fall on the monk’s corpse stabbed with the digging fork—which used to be the symbol of farming and honest, hard work.
The fire continues consuming the painting and the portrait of Jesus Christ on it.
Struggling to walk through the ten-inch-deep snow, Luther approaches the church. He notices a royal coach and some military horses at the entrance. It cannot be good news, Luther thinks while falling to his knees in the snow.
Inside the church, Luther finishes writing a letter. Although a great fire flames in the open fireplace, Luther does not feel any warmer. Leaned far forward, Pfaffinger stands right behind his shoulder, intently checking the letter.
Luther signs Martin, but his hand shakes before he finishes the signature with his iconic family name that represents the Protestant reformation. Stricken by doubts, Luther is motionless for a few moments of clarity. The fragile, growing peaceful moment breaks in its inception when Pfaffinger finally touches Luther on the shoulder. Luther looks back and makes eye contact with him. Pfaffinger’s insisting eyes say it all. The weight of Pfaffinger’s demanding gaze still on him, Luther turns back to finish the signature, ignoring the entreaty of his shaking hand. He barely finishes the signature when Pfaffinger yanks the paper, rolls it, and gives it to a messenger that has been standing aside. The messenger swiftly puts the letter in his bag, shows respect, and runs out.
Hearing the messenger’s horse running away, Luther regrets that already.
“Cheer up, Luther,” Pfaffinger says unsympathetically while leaving. “You did the right thing today. Have some faith in yourself for God’s sake.” The two soldiers who were standing there follow Pfaffinger and leave Luther in the church, alone with his guilty conscience.
Luther takes his eyes off the door through which Pfaffinger left and turns it on his table, and the chairs around it. Surrounded by empty chairs, Luther suddenly feels chilled to the bone. “Karl! Karl!” he calls his assistant.
Karl rushes in from the side chamber. His surprised eyes immediately fall on the great flames in the open fireplace when he finds Luther shivering!
“That girl, Katharina, single still, is she?”
“Oh… Yes, she is.”
“Are you sure?”
“Sure, I’m sure. She’s made it very clear that she would marry no one but Prof. Luther. Last week, just last week, she rejected Prof. Baumgärtner’s proposal, for the second time.”
“A priest marrying a nun! That’s something. That would piss off the Pope, wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah, it would, and many priests are showing interest already, but she—”
“I mean myself, you moron.”
After a few seconds when Karl believes the unbelievable news, a big smile gradually appears on his face.
It is the year 1525, June 13th; the day that Katharina von Bora presumes to be the happiest day of her life. In the beautiful, lively garden of Black Cloister, she has gotten married to Professor Martin Luther, the dreamy, brave intellectual behind the touching words in Invocavit Sermons; the words that reintroduced her to the loving side of religion and opened her heart and filled it with the long-lost, yet familiar feeling of romance.
The happy smile disappears from her face when her gaze falls on Luther, who stands next to her. His head is tilted, staring sideways at apparently nothing. Katharina leans forward and takes a good look at her husband. In place of bravery and strength, she reads regret and indecision on his face. This is not the Luther she has been dreaming of. The optimism in her face now gradually mixes with a growing doubt.
Distraught and scruffy, Andreas Karlstadt arrives at the wedding of his best friend. It does not take long for his wandering gaze to find the groom. Dashing toward Luther, Andreas stands next to him. Luther shows no reaction, still staring sideways. Without missing a beat, Andreas leans forward to pass the news, only to be repeatedly interrupted by his own panting. He seems to be in such a rush that he even forgot to congratulate the bride. Katharina, however, is more curious than offended. She gets closer to Luther to hear them more clearly.
“I have devastating news from Frankenhausen,” Andreas whispers into Luther’s ear. “It is about Thomas.”
His attention grabbed, Luther turns to Andreas.
Katharina listens more closely. She has heard this name before; it must be Thomas Müntzer, Luther’s other ally in reformation.
Before Andreas gets a chance to continue, Pfaffinger arrives, with a big, black key in his hand. “Splendid news from Frankenhausen,” he says cheerfully. Luther turns to him.
“How is my favorite priest?” Pfaffinger asks.
Andreas steps back, almost hiding behind Luther.
Pfaffinger notices him. “Oh, Good!” he says sarcastically. “Dr. Karlstadt is still alive.”
“I signed the retraction, didn’t I?” Andreas responds.
“Once a rebel, always a rebel,” Pfaffinger spits and then turns to Luther. “Speaking of it, wonderful news from Frankenhausen. The rebels are crushed. Their leader, that rogue priest, got arrested and confessed to his errors. It took a bit of convincing, but he eventually did. Congratulations!” Pfaffinger holds up the key. “Here is a little wedding gift from Prince Frederick. This is the key to this house, well, to your house.”
Taking one step closer, Pfaffinger leans forward to the point that his head is between Luther and Katharina’s. She listens closely. “Frederick returns favor with favor,” he whispers and retracts his head.
Katharina turns her confused face on Luther; guilt is pouring down his eyes. This cannot be possibly true, she thinks. The legendary reformer who has devoted his entire life to, and only to, religion would not have any business to do with the likes of Pfaffinger.
Pfaffinger is still holding up the key. Luther, however, does not seem to have the strength or motivation to raise his hand to receive Fredrick’s wedding gift. Having run out of patience, Pfaffinger finally pulls Luther’s left hand and slaps the key into his palm.
Luther turns his distressed gaze to the large, black key in his left hand. Staring at it for a few moments, he then raises his right hand, covered by multiple old ink stains. The hand, which wrote the words that have changed history forever, is no longer shaking. It must have given up on Luther.
Pfaffinger yawns and moves on to congratulate the bride. Katharina, however, cringes away. She does not like even a bit the man in the luxury cloth. Pfaffinger does not seem to mind her hating him. He just walks by with an indifferent face.
“Congratulations!” Andreas sarcastically whispers into Luther’s ear. That pulls the trigger, and a pang of painful guilt swiftly conquers Luther’s face. This is the side of the groom little known to the bride. She tries to soothe him with an embrace, but the soft touch of love cannot reach the pain that is buried deep in the heart.
Separating himself from her, Luther leaves the wedding party, walking toward the small door on the back of the yard. Katharina, her arms still open, feels embarrassed when she notices Andreas watching her. Andreas turns his gaze down right away. Slowly dropping her arms, she turns and, with unbelieving eyes, watches her newlywed husband leave their wedding. Luther drops the key as he walks away. Only if he could do the same with the guilt.
Katharina pulls herself together and worryingly runs after her disturbed husband, on the happiest day of her life!
On May 15th, a few weeks before Luther celebrates his wedding, Thomas Müntzer leads the peasants through an open field near Frankenhausen. The peasants are carrying semi-weapons they have improvised from farming tools.
“Look! What’s that?” a peasant warns Thomas.
A black warhorse wrapped in steel plate barding stands on the hill before the peasants. On top of it is a brave knight peeking through the body armor that covers every inch of his body, holding a long spear in one hand and a sword in another. In a few moments, the rest of the calvary joins, each armed to their teeth.
“What are they?” the peasant squeaks.
“That must be the troops of Duke George of Saxony,” Thomas responds, his eyes on the lookout.
“Didn’t we have a truce with the prince?”
“Yeah, but with their new recruits they no longer seem to need the truce.”
“Should we go back? What chances do we have with these?” the peasant asks, showing his farming fork.
“We should, indeed,” Thomas says and turns back, only to be shocked by the petrifying scenery.
“Jesus!” the peasant screams.
All the surrounding hills are covered with foot soldiers. The professional army is equipped with swords, axes, hammers, fist shields, helmets, and gauntlets. The peasant gulps when he compares those to the farming fork that he holds.
The imbalanced confrontation looks like a joke. This is the battle of Frankenhausen, the same that Pfaffinger was referring to its conclusion when he congratulated Luther.
Thomas Müntzer is brought to the prince with his hands tied in front of him and with his face covered with deep wounds.
As he is being dragged, the images of horror come back to him. The image of blood flowing through a grass field that was no longer green. He remembers how the armed-to-the-teeth soldiers recruited by the prince effortlessly slaughtered the peasants. With less than 7 casualties, the prince’s army slew more than 7000 peasants before the sun set on the blood-covered Frankenhausen field.
Thomas is thrown at the feet of the prince to kiss it. That might not save his life but would buy him a merciful death. That would be a wise thing to do, even for a stubborn man like Thomas. After all, the revolution is crushed anyway, and the reformation, the way Thomas defines it, is no longer existent. The power will remain in the hands of a few, and the dream of economic freedom for the masses will not come true; not at least in Thomas’s lifetime. That would indeed be a wise thing to do.
Before kissing the prince’s royal shoe, Thomas uses his tied hands to clean the dirt off it. His injured hands, however, leave more stains of blood than removing dirt. He then makes eye contact with the prince, who is impatiently waiting to get over with this. With a victorious smile on his face, the prince nods and gives permission for his royal feet to be kissed by one of the leaders of the Protestant reformation.
Thomas surprises the prince with a dominant smile. Before the prince gets a chance to figure that out, Thomas spits on the prince’s shoe. His spit is covered with red blood; the blood shed by the prince’s army. Something strikes his head, and he passes out at the feet of the prince.
Thomas might not have seen the success of the reformation with his eyes, but to him, reformation is a timeless notion that lives beyond a man’s lifetime. The reformation was not started by his sacrifice and will not stop by his last breath either. He would not compromise just to be able to pick the unripe fruits of his contributions. He would rather keep the tree of reformation pure with his sacrifice and pass it to the next generations intact. That is what martyrs do.
Thomas Müntzer, once Luther’s ally in reformation, suffers the last moments of his life under torture with knee-splitter and head-crusher. His head is eventually cut off and displayed in public.
This is the ending that Pfaffinger was referring to when he congratulated Luther on his wedding day!