In July 1530, Martin Luther penned a letter to his close friend Jerome Weller, who, it seems, had been suffering from bouts of depression and temptation. Yet, in a striking inversion, Luther claims that spiritual duress indicates the presence of faith. As he explains, “You must believe that this temptation of yours is from the devil, who vexes you thus because you believe in Christ.”1 Consequently, “all of us who are Christians [are to] have the devil as an adversary and as an enemy.” In fact, to be tempted by the devil “is a certain sign that God is favorable and merciful to you.”
It would be understandable for one to dismiss such musings as a holdover from the Middle Ages. Yet, as Dutch theologian Heiko Oberman has observed, Luther was far more interested in the devil’s role in human affairs than his medieval predecessors. For Luther, no person is exempt from the “cosmic war” between Christ and the devil; it influences of every aspect of our lives. Doubtless this all sounds macabre, if not just plain ridiculous. But what’s fascinating is that Luther’s “solution” to this problem is exceedingly practical, perhaps even kindly. For example, he offers a series of steps to overcome diabolical temptation:
“Flee solitude in any way you can.”
Do not try to resist temptation but, instead, laugh at it.
Be assured that God will use your trial in order to bring about good.
At times, this method leads to some unexpected advice:
If the devil should say, “Do not drink!” you should reply to him thus, “On this very account, because you forbid it, I shall drink, and, what is more, I shall drink a generous amount.” Thus one must always do precisely what Satan forbids. What do you think is my reason for drinking undiluted wine, talking freely, and eating more often, if not to torment and vex the devil.
But this counsel is not monolithic, since people are afflicted by different thoughts. For example, if devil were to pivot from “Do not drink” to “You have been drinking too much and thereby deserve eternal punishment,” Luther would proffer a different response. In this case, the person should invoke the person of Jesus Christ, “who suffered and made satisfaction for me.” The point is that the devil must not be allowed to gain control. That which is not God must never be treated as if it were God. It is ultimately a matter of idolatry.
Still, perhaps the most significant aspect of Luther’s spirituality is how it transposes its medieval precursors. Where monks sought solitude, Luther recommends company. Where monks sought discipline, Luther recommends lenience. Where monks sought the imitation of Christ, Luther recommends salvation through Christ. Of course, whether or not Luther was right to correct these monastic presuppositions is a different matter altogether—one that far outstrips what I can do here (particularly at this late hour!). My hunch, however, is that these two approaches to spirituality ultimately serve to complement one another. One focuses on self-discipline, the other on self-forgiveness, though the latter may be the harder of the two.
Emphasis added.
Amen. I found the letter to Jerome in the "Spirituality" volume, and read it this morning as well: "Therefore, my Jerome, join in jokes and games with my wife and the rest, and in this way you will cheat those diabolical thoughts and take good courage."
It's as if ML is saying something about how the "footing" of the battle with temptation and the devil is to change - do you win when you take a direct oppositional stance, arguing, arming yourself, chopping up every moment into a struggle for "territory" - or, is the victory found in the denying the accuser the power to contest every single moment, and laughing, instead? We could call this "changing the narrative" but I think "the ongoing practice of narrating" might be more precise than "narrative." I really like the notion of "take good courage" as this option which you also relate to self-forgiveness.
Check this out, this quotation from Walter Benjamin's essay "The Storyteller" : "The wisest thing - so the fairy tale [märchen] taught mankind in olden times, and teaches children to this day is to meet the forces of the mythical world with cunning and with high spirits."- the "take good courage" reminded me of Benjamin's "high spirits."