Wittenberg is a long, narrow corridor of ancient houses and shops, a few small plazas, and some sleepy tourists wandering about. Not many people could be seen on our Sunday adventure to the birthplace of Martin Luther… Clearly, his legend has fueled this town for generations, if nothing else. I am not surprised, but none-the-less bothered by the lack of pilgrims to this historic place, and the absence of any other real growth here.
We made up the bulk of the church service that day in the very church Luther nailed his thesis to. It was magical, awe-inspiring and sacred to me to have come such a long way to see hear the tail of the man who helped me believe the good news. Without Luther, my faith would have been feeble, unfounded, unaccessible.
The thought had been voiced that if we hadn’t ventured out there that day, that beautiful church would have been mostly empty. It’s a depressing thought, until you realize we WERE there! That service was for us! We came, and we were meant to be there. The experience was moving for me, and I will always remember it. Let it be known that at least one of us learned so much, got beyond inspired, and so all the time and effort the staff went though to care for our service was indeed worth it.
The museum was otherworldly: a showcase of a revolutionary man with a mission, to make the word of God accessible to more people than any other attempt in history. This man singlehandedly took on the catholic church, with a strong faith, courageous will, and impressive penmanship. I could only help but fall to my knees and pray.
I highly recommend a trip here to anyone wishing to see the roots of their faith, provided they travel here with an open mind, and a willingness to see past the flashy golden arches and statues.