Bold Women of the Reformation Tour

by Judy Springer

I was quite taken with Ludwig der Springer, pictured below. The story is that, upon seeing the hill upon which the Wartburg Castle now sits, he is supposed to have exclaimed, "Warte, Berg—du sollst mir eine Burg werden!" (Wait, mountain—thou shalt become a castle for me!") Because the hill was not quite within his lands, it is said that he had clay from his lands transported to the top of the hill so that he could swear that the castle was built on his ground.

How bold is that! Myth or fact—it really doesn't matter to me, because it is his name that has captured my attention. Quite a story when your own name is Springer.

Ludwig der Springer, Wartburg Castle
But of the many bold people about whom we learned on our tour, both contemporary and historical, the person who stands out the most to me is Katharina von Bora Luther. The more that we heard about her, the more in awe I was. She was truly the boldest of the bold. Consider that:

• When she was only five years old, Katharina's father sent her to a convent in Brehna. Five years later, she was transferred to the cloister at Nimbschen, where at age 16 she took her vows as a nun. From her sheltered life, how much would she have known about the outside world?

• Yet, on Easter Eve in 1523, she and 11 other nuns escaped from the convent under cover of darkness. Leonhard Koppe, friend of Luther and Torgau councilman, drove the getaway wagon. The smuggling of nuns was a capital offense. Bold nuns; bold driver.

• Three nuns returned to their family homes; eight were married off fairly quickly. Katharina remained. Luther found her a temporary home with the Cranach family. After a brief romance with Jerome Paumgartner was terminated by his parents (probably because they didn't want him to marry a penniless, runaway nun), Katharina was presented with another suiter, Dr. Kaspar Glatz, 20 years older than she. But Katharina boldly proclaimed that she had "neither desire nor love" in herself for him. She declared resolutely that she would marry only Nicholas von Amsdorf or Martin Luther or remain single, an unthinkable proclamation, an unthinkable act. Incredibly bold, this woman.

• On June 13, 1525, a Tuesday evening, Katharina and Martin became engaged before witnesses including Johann Bugenhagen (pastor of the Wittenberg city church), Justus Jonas, and the Cranachs. Immediately after the engagement, Katharina and Martin were married by Pastor Bugenhagen. A bold move, considering that Luther's friends were opposed to the marriage. Luther was 42; Katherina, 26.

• The Luthers were wed for 20 years and blessed with six children—three boys and three girls. Meanwhile, Katharina managed their large home, took in boarders, raised vegetable and flower gardens, brewed beer, bought cattle, and proofread Luther's translation of the New Testament, among other things. Oh my! Valiant woman, she!

• After Luther's death in 1546, among Katharina's many trials was that she had very little income. She was dependent on the generosity of the Elector John Frederick and the princes of Anhalt. But more distressing was that Chancellor Brϋck insisted that the boys be taken from their home in order to get a better education. Katharina fought tooth and nail until the chancellor gave up that idea. Bold mother!

• Katharina also had to face the threats of war and becoming a refugee. With the onset of the Schmalkaldic War in 1546 and the defeat of John Frederick, Wittenberg was in a panic. Katharina fled with her family to Magdeburg. When she returned in 1547, her farm was in ruins. Her animals were gone, and the buildings were burned to the ground. She was forced to borrow money to rebuild--bold woman to even think to do such in that day.

• In 1552, the plague broke out in Wittenberg. Katharina decided she must leave her home again. During the trip, her horses were frightened and she was thrown from the carriage. Severely injured, she never regained her strength. She died in December 20, 1555. Katharina had lived an amazingly bold and courageous life.

I think perhaps boldness comes, not from a natural inclination to be daring or fearless, but from the conviction that something is the right thing to do. Perhaps steadfast, tenacious, and persevering are better definitions of bold. And maybe that's what we mean with our triennium theme "Act Boldly"—not that we are fearless or audacious, but that, in knowing what is right, we have the faith to do what is right.

Deaconesses serve with dedication

(from Wednesday, April 25)

We visited the diaconal community of Dresden on another beautiful spring day. Sisters Esther and Sylvia welcomed us into the chapel on the extensive grounds and gave us a sketch of the history of the community.

In 1844, not long after the foundation of the first deaconess community in 1839 not far away in Dusseldorf, four Dresden noblewomen opened a house where they would live, pray, and work together, serving the sick in their own home. In 1846, these women moved to a larger property, and here they remain.

During World War II, Dresden was bombed and the deaconesses' chapel and hospital were not spared. In 1961, the chapel was reopened. Sister Esther told us that the chapel is the spiritual home of the community and that diaconal service is not possible without Word and Communion. The sisters welcome neighbors and visitors to join them in worship daily. Their chapel houses a fine organ and choir, often heard in concerts and cantata services.

On the front of the lectern in the chapel is a Coventry cross, formed of large nails. The cathedral of Conventry in England was also heavily damaged in World War II; it has been at the forefront of movements for peace and reconciliation ever since (see www.crossofnails.org). In 1965, the Coventry movement sent a group of young Englishmen to help rebuild the deaconesses' hospital. The deaconesses have never forgotten this. Every Friday at noon, the community gathers in the chapel to pray for peace and reconciliation using the Coventry prayer: Father forgive.

Now the deaconesses' hospital is a 250-bed general hospital, the first in the city to be certified by a nationally known independent agency. At least 1000 babies are born here each year, a point of friendly rivalry among the three hospitals in Dresden.

The deaconesses also care for the elderly and handicapped with a wide range of services. Youth is also served here, with a kindergarten for the very young and a vocational high school that prepares young adults for work in health care. The deaconesses also sponsor a respected nursing school, whose 170 students follow a three-year program.

The deaconesses operate another industry: the Hostenbackerei, near the hospital. In one small room, more than a million wafers of communion bread are made each year.

As Sisters Esther and Sylvia led us around the beautiful grounds, we were all impressed by the hum of dedicated activity all around us. But the deaconesses aren't just efficient workers with a hospital, school, and nursing home to run. They have dedicated their lives to Christ, living a common life of apostolic poverty and prayer. And what amazing fruit that dedication to Christ has brought forth in the world: healing, reconciliation, and beauty.

You can see their website at www.diako-dresden.de.

You never know whom you will meet in Germany!

by the Rev. Joanne Fitzgerald
of Elmwood Park, Illinois
(in black and white in photo at left)

It had been a very long day in Dresden for the bold women of the ELCA trekking, by bus of course, the countryside of eastern Germany. When we returned to Leipzig, we immediate went to dinner, in haste to be at a concert at the Bach Museum. But we weren't quick and were too late to enter in. You must be "punctlich" here — no entrance after the concert starts.

As we went back down three flights of stairs to the entrance, a man entering through the doorway caught my eye. He looked familiar. I called out, "Mark!" and he looked back and we connected. It was Mark Sundberg, a pastor from Lake Zurich, Illinois, USA. He and I had graduated from LSTC in 1994. Two of the people I was with returned and two others (Gayle and David from Spokane) stayed behind while we stayed together to talk. It was one of those aha! moments! He had been asking, well, praying, for someone to talk with and we were his answer. What an awesome God we have! Never would I have guessed or even thought that I would have seen someone I knew from so far away. And so what a wonderful day it was!

(Joanne asked me to enter this into the blog for her — ed.)

The Sisters of the Augustinerkloster

(from Friday, April 26)

In the city of Erfurt stands the Augustinian monastery where Martin Luther lived as a monk from 1505 to 1508. After Luther's Reformation swept Germany, the monastic life faded away--the last monk of the order Luther knew here died in 1556. And for centuries after, the buildings housed schools, libraries, government offices, museums, and other secular concerns.

Now, after nearly five hundred years, the monastic life is flourishing again at the Augustinerkloster. Six Lutheran women, one of whom is an ordained pastor, live in community according to the ancient Benedictine rule. They are part of a twentieth-century renewal of religious life in Germany--the Castellar Ring of which they are a part was founded in 1950. The sisters have been here at the Augustinerkloster since 1996.

We joined the sisters at midday prayer, which they sing together in the Augustinerkirche where Martin Luther prayed so many years ago, and then enjoyed lunch in the refectory.

How do Lutheran monastic sisters live today? We talked with one of the sisters later that afternoon. She told us that the goal of their common life is to seek God in all things and prefer nothing to Christ. The sisters take vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, owning nothing individually and sharing all things in common. Paychecks and pension checks go into the common chest. Most of the sisters have jobs outside the cloister; the sister we spoke to is a physical therapist. The sisters work not only to support the community, but in order to share the condition of their neighbors.

The sisters pray together four times a day in the Augustinerkirche: 7 am, noon, 6 pm, and 7:30 pm; and celebrate Holy Communion every Sunday at 9:30 (with kirchekaffee afterward in the klosterstube!). They wear habits (long loose gray gowns, not very different from albs) only for the liturgy; the rest of the time they wear ordinary clothes and a cross pendant. There are now about 20 groups of Lutheran sisters in Germany. The sisters elect a prioress for a term and meet together in chapter every few weeks to talk over matters of concern. Every sister has a voice in the chapter.

An important part of their mission is to be engaged with the world outside the monastery. They are active in ecumenical conferences as well as with other religious communities and monasteries. And they maintain neighborhood and family ties.

The community maintains a guest house and conference center (several of our travelers stayed there), and of course, the klosterstube or café, a popular place among neighborhood students and retired people.


The Benedictine way of life emphasizes hospitality, welcoming the guest as one would welcome Christ. The bold and faithful sisters of the Augustinerkloster truly welcomed us in that spirit.

From Thursday, April 26th

Nimbschen and Grimma (not names from a fairy tale!)
After leaving Leipzig, we road-tripped to a pastoral grove in which stood the ruins of the Nimbschen monastery where Katharina von Bora had lived as a nun until 1523, when she and eight other nuns escaped the convent because of the writings of Dr. Martin Luther.

We sat in the sun under the quietly quivering trees and ate lunch remembering Katharina, who had come to live in Marienthron (Mary's Throne), the Cistercian convent of Nimbschen, at age 8. She had two aunts there with her: One of them, her maternal aunt, Margarete von Haubitz, was the mother superior. At age 16, on October 8, 1515, Katharina took her vows as a nun. Her time at the convent, though austere, was a blessing to her and other women of their day, as by entering the convent they gained the ability to learn reading, writing, and some Latin.

But as Katharina and others caught wind of the growing reform movement, they grew dissatisfied with life at the convent, eventually conspiring to flee from it. Leaving a convent was difficult — leaving religious life was an offense punishable by death. The women secretly contacted Luther, begging for his assistance.

On Easter eve 1523, Luther helped Katharina and the others escape in the dark of night. Legend has them being pursued by armed guards from the monastery, climbing a wall, Katharina losing a shoe, and all nine nuns making their getaway in fish barrels carted by Luther’s friend, Leonhard Köppe, a city councilman of Torgau and a merchant who regularly delivered herring to the convent.

Under the bright sun, it was hard to contemplate both the dangerous escape and the fact that the area had experienced record floods in 2002 that devastated local towns such as Grimma. The convent sits on the banks of the Muhlde River, which reached 20 feet above flood stage and cut a wide swath in the small valley. The quiet town is working to make a comeback, thanks to the creative work of town planners, managers, and leaders.

The Lord Mayor of Grimma gave us a hearty welcome and the picnic lunch. The young Mayor of Grimma, Matthias Berger, gave us an overview of his town and how they recovered after the flooding. We gave the town a lot of business and a story to tell for months to come about the horde of Lutheran women who flooded the town one bright April day in 2007. (Picture is of the Grimma City Hall.)
Following our meeting with Mayor Berger and our buying frenzy (for some just another beer stop), we continued to Erfurt, the spiritual home of Martin Luther. It was in 1501–1505 in Erfurt that Luther studied theology and, according to his father’s desires, law. Here Luther went into the Augustinian monastery and later became a priest and preached in numerous churches.

Our evening came to a delightful close with an authentic German brats, sauerkraut, and beer hall dinner. We sang our grace and recalled Luther writing hymns to the popular beer hall songs of his day.

The different faces of Erfurt

Since Luther's day, the eastern German town of Erfurt has been not only an affluent town along a trading route but also the place in Europe for higher education and theological studies. Famours also for exporting its rare blue dye, Erfurt was a popular destination for students and an economic center. Today, the Universtiy of Erfurt, closed in 1817 and reopened in 1994, draws many young people and students from around Europe. Not only is the town rich in history, today it is a vibrant European city.

In the morning: Evangelische Augustinerkloster zu Erfurt
Our tour began in the Augustinerkloster (Augustinian monastery). After graduating from the University of Erfurt, Luther became a monk here. He even said his first Mass here.

Next to the monastery is the Church of St. Augustine, dating back to 1276. The original church windows are still intact and date from the 14th century (they were saved from the destruction that the chapel suffered during an English bombing raid during World War II). The church went through a major renovation, completed in 1993, that repaired the damage from the war. The windows are red and feature distinct circular designs that tell the story of St. Augustine.

Another remarkable element of this church is its wooden ceiling — not unusual in the churches in the area, we were told. We joined the sisters of the Casteller Ring Community, a Protestant religious order in the Benedictine tradition that lives in the monastery today, for prayer at noon. During the service, two mocking birds jumped from rafter to rafter and sang a cheerful song.

Our guide then led us to the winter chapel. We learned that many of these mammoth, old stone churches do not have heat, and so “winter churches,” with their smaller spaces that could be heated, were and still are used several months of the year. As we walked the corridor from the main church to the winter chapel, our guide told us that Luther would have walked this corridor in silence. This building is also featured in the movie, “Luther.”

Our guide told us of Luther’s work at the monastery and how he translated the Bible from Greek to Latin. The translated versions were large and had leather covers and painted letters.

The monastery’s museum opened in 2002 and features replicas of where Luther slept and worked, and a sample of the robe that he and the other monks would have worn. There is also a library housing around 60,000 books.

Luther’s time at the monastery did not sound very appealing to me. He ate once or, on rare occasions, twice a day. He slept in the unheated halls outside of his personal cell and woke at 3 a.m. every day. Every three hours he was called to the church to pray.

Erfurt in the afternoon
Next we investigated the bustling city. I stumbled upon one of the two major shopping complexes located in the heart of the city. It was a sunny day and the temperature was 73 degrees — a perfect opportunity to join the locals in eating ice cream at the closest Eis Café. My cone featured papaya and mango over a strawberry concoction.

I later found a front row seat at a bakery counter that was serving freshly baked bread — a perfect vantage point for taking in the local color and people-watching. This mall differed somewhat from what I am used to in the States. Amidst the other stores that carried American and European perfumes and cosmetics, there was a bakery in the food court as well as a fruit market. There was also a store dedicated to selling tea.

Erfurt at night
Some members of another group we ran into told us that Faustus’ was the place to be on Friday night. The outside tables were crowded, and it looked like all of the other outside restaurants in the area were crowded too.
The winding cobblestone streets feature quaint and colorful outdoor cafes though, located next to an older building that was painted yellow, I saw a super modern building made of iron and glass that towered over it. Construction sites in this city also start out as archaeological digs — no wonder, given the age of the city.

After a moonlit stroll down the winding cobblestone streets, I and my fellow dining companions arrived at the monastery. Half of our group actually stayed in the monastery during our visit; the monastery rents rooms (and there is a conference center). The rooms are modern, yet modest — no phones, TVs, or clock radios in these cozy rooms, and quiet hours are posted and expected to be observed.

Although there were some modern elements and shopping complexes that mirrored those in my own neighborhood in Chicago, I knew that I was somewhere very different and special.

Die Gemütlichkeit

The tour officially ended Saturday evening, April 28th. My flight home was not until Sunday afternoon, so I very much wanted to attend a church in Darmstadt, a suburb of Frankfurt where we had finished the tour.

Well, easier said than done. I asked at the hotel front desk about nearby churches and service times. The young woman at the desk put a lot of effort into helping me: The map she gave me had the symbols of churches on it, but not their names and the service times. She checked the phone book, and it didn't even have churches listed. The local newspaper had a listing of church names and service times, but not the addresses for those churches.

Not to be deterred, however (after all, I am a bold woman of the 21st century), I thanked her and decided that I would walk to what appeared on the map to be the closest church and see what time they had services. During my two weeks in Germany I had gathered that 10 a.m. was a pretty standard service time. The church on the map looked to be not more than a half hour walk from the hotel, so I set out about 9:30 a.m.

Before I reached the point on my map where there appeared to be a church, I heard church bells nearby. So, being the bold and intrepid woman that I am (being a bit of a stubborn German American doesn't hurt either), I simply followed the sound of the bells, which led me to Evangelische Friedensgemeinde Darmstadt (Peace Lutheran Church Darmstadt).

The service began at 10 a.m. with a familiar hymn, "Sing to the Lord of Harvest," in German,of course. I took some German in college, but unfortunately, most of that learning had flown out of my head in the ensuing 19 years of not using it. During the two-week trip, some of the German I had learned had come back to me, but I certainly wouldn't claim to be able to speak German.

An amazing thing happened,as the congregation stood to sing the hymn: I bounded out of the pew and began singing the hymn with gusto in German. I was so totally in the moment of being there in Germany with Germans and praising God that I absolutely forgot that German was not my native language.

The experience, 'tho brief, almost brought me to tears of joy, though, as I realized that, if even for a brief moment, I became like a child, as Jesus asks of us. What I mean is that for a moment, I checked my rational, adult mind at the door of the church (the rational mind that would remind me that I don't know how to pronounce certain words in German, or that German is not my native language, and I really don't know or understand it) and opened up my heart and soul to praise God in whatever forms that would take.

Through my becoming like a child, the Holy Spirit began to work and allowed that time of singing to be such a time of pure awe and adoration of God that I think it defies explanation in any language.

The Holy Spirit is so ready and willing to work in us, if we would just find the eyes of children so that we could recognize the Holy Spirit and take hold and become absorbed in the moments of our lives.