(hymn, c. 1529)
One of the best-loved hymns of the Christian church, “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God” is based upon Psalm 46, which speaks of God as “our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble” (v. 1). It may have originally been sung by Martin Luther and his companions at the Diet of Worms (1521), where he was first called to defend himself against charges of heresy, and where he and his followers initially feared for their safety.
Because of its stirring martial tune, it has sometimes been referred to as “The Battle Hymn of the Reformation,” though in modern times it is often included in Catholic hymnals as well. It is best known in English through its translation by Frederic Henry Hodge, a very poetic and memorable rendering. In this hymn Luther expresses unshakable confidence and trust that God will be our protector and source of strength, even “though world with devils filled should threaten to undo us.” He highlights the intense struggle of the spiritual battle that is faced by believers but also expresses triumphant assurance that evil will be put to flight and God’s Word will ultimately prevail, no matter what the immediate outcome of the struggle: “The body they may kill; God’s truth abideth still; His Kingdom is forever.” “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God,” in both its words and music, echoes the great qualities of the man who wrote it—boldness, confidence, and defiance in the face of opposition.
Martin Luther was born in 1483 in Germany, and attended the university in Erfurt, where he was recognized as a brilliant debater with a keen intellect and biting wit. One day the young Luther was out for a walk when a tremendous storm flared up and he was nearly struck by lightning. Crying for God to rescue him, he promised to become a monk if God would spare him. Despite the impetuous nature of the vow, he made good on it, entering an Augustinian monastery, where his intelligence and his ability with words soon earned him an assignment as a teacher to the younger monks.
The order Luther joined was very strict, and was fastidious about the disciplines of rigorous fasting, long prayers, and regular confession. Though Luther performed all these to perfection in an attempt to please God, he could not escape a deep and abiding sense of guilt. The harder he tried, the more guilty he felt, and the more he examined his heart, the more tormented he became at his own unworthiness. And the more he tried to live an exemplary life, the less likely it seemed to him that there was any hope for his soul. He became angry at God, as well as at himself, and began to suffer from despair, chronic insomnia, and constipation.
One day, while studying the book of Romans, Luther came upon the phrase “the righteousness of God,” and suddenly he saw a truth he had never before grasped: it was impossible for him to please God with his own efforts at righteousness, and the only righteousness he could hope for was the righteousness offered by God himself. God’s grace, he discovered, came not as a result of human effort and discipline but as a free gift arising from simple faith. As he meditated on this discovery he felt the burden of guilt lift, and true happiness and peace entered his heart for the first time.
This theological revelation was the spark that set the Reformation ablaze. Armed with the truth that salvation is by grace, not by works, Luther began to write and speak about practices in the church that he felt were contrary to this biblical imperative. He marshaled his passion and his rhetorical skills to question many teachings of the established church, and this eventually led to a split between Roman Catholicism and the various forms of Protestantism. Luther didn’t originally envision anything more than reform within the church, but when his teachings were attacked by the church hierarchy and they attempted to silence this sharp-tongued monk, Luther refused to budge from his convictions and his commitment to the teaching of the Bible. “Here I stand,” he famously said. “I can do no other.”
As incalculably immense as his impact upon theology would prove to be for reshaping the church and Christian thought, it is not this achievement that earns Martin Luther a place in this book. Rather, it is for his talent in turning these truths into unforgettable hymns that Christians still sing today. Luther loved music and had an extremely high view of the musical arts. He once wrote, “Next to the Word of God, this noble art [music] is the greatest treasure in the world! The riches of music are so excellent and so precious that words fail me whenever I attempt to discuss and describe them.”1 From someone who had written countless sermons, biblical commentaries, and theological treatises, this is an arresting statement.
Though Luther was not a professionally trained musician, he was a skilled lute player and an excellent singer. As an Augustinian monk, he would have been trained in the singing of Gregorian chants, and this experience of singing the psalms with the other monks is likely the root of his deep love for music.
Although Luther did not really consider himself a composer, he sometimes wrote original hymns or created complex choral compositions for four voices that show the depth of his musical knowledge. More commonly, he borrowed music from Catholic composers and adapted or rewrote the lyrics of existing hymns to express his Reformed theology. He even appropriated tunes from the German folk songs commonly sung in the taverns, by workers in the mines, or by children at school, and penned new words that reflected his biblical worldview to accompany these jaunty melodies. He designed his hymns to appeal to the ordinary German: joyful, not overly complex, and easily memorable. He saw them as tools for instructing the young in Christian beliefs and values and reminding the old of what the gospel meant in their lives. Based on his understanding of 1 Corinthians 3:21, “All things are yours,” Luther believed that Christians could appropriate the beauty and power of music and use it to worship God and spread his Word. Some have credited Luther with asking the question, “Why should the devil have all the good music?” He understood music’s power to move the emotions and saw how this could be pressed into God’s service.
On this point—music’s emotional power and usefulness for the believer—he differed from John Calvin and other Reformers. These leaders, in trying to distance themselves from the trappings of the Roman Catholic Church, emphasized austerity and attempted to cleanse their churches of every taint of “popish excess.” They tore down decorations and images, removed organs from their lofts, did away with elaborate vestments, and drastically simplified the singing, all in an attempt to remove any distractions that might get in the way of the centrality of the preaching of the Word of God. Although Calvin was not opposed to music itself, he was suspicious of music’s ability to move the emotions and was wary of the delight and enjoyment it brought, and therefore limited his congregations to unaccompanied unison singing of the psalms in order to maintain a serious focus in the worship service. He did not allow instrumental music in his churches. Zwingli, the Swiss Reformer, banned not only Latin choral singing but even the singing of German psalms and hymns.
Luther had a very different perspective. He saw music as an effective method to communicate the truths of Scripture in a manner that could move and stir the soul of every man and woman. Rather than fearing the emotional power of music, Luther saw it as a useful tool in the war against the devil. Because music had such power to lift the human heart, he recommended passionate heartfelt congregational singing as a way of putting the devil in his place. As he once opined, “The devil does not stay where music is.”2
Luther wrote at least thirty-six hymns, of which “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God” is the most famous. His hymns were so compelling that they were sung not only during worship services but also in homes, while toiling in the fields, or at social gatherings. They were a way of teaching solid biblical theology to the unlettered and the illiterate.
The ultimate purpose of all Martin Luther’s music was in its message: to shine a fresh and unforgettable light upon the texts and teachings of Scripture, and to give a voice to the joy that the gospel brought to the human heart. As he wrote:
This precious gift has been bestowed on men to remind them that they are created to praise and magnify the Lord. But when natural music is sharpened and polished by art, then one begins to see with amazement the great and perfect wisdom of God in this wonderful work of music, where one voice takes a simple part and around it sing three, four, or five other voices, leaping, springing round about, marvelously gracing the simple part, like a folk dance in heaven with friendly bows, embracing, and hearty swinging of partners. He who does not find this an inexpressible miracle of the Lord is truly a clod.3