St Agnes, Martyr

The martyrdom of St Agnes is celebrated every year on January 21.

Agnes was (about) 12 years old when she was murdered in 304 in the Great Persecution of Diocletian.

How strange this Christian calendar filled with so many reminders of death. Stranger still is the persistent idea that Christians have the martyrs as their heroes.

St. Agnes, together with St. Agatha, were two of Martin Luther’s favorite martyrs to put before the people. Both of these young women went to their death with joy.

Last year I wrote a little book called “And Take They Our Life: Martin Luther’s Theology of Martyrdom.” The topic might seem bleak, but I wrote it to spark joy and faith as we live through these grey and latter days.

Here is the chapter on Agnes and Agatha:

(If you’d like to read the entire book, you can download it for free here, or buy a copy here: paperback $9.99, Kindle $2.99.)

I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments. And if you have any questions. And, since I’m not on Facebook or Twitter any more, someone should share it over there! Thanks!

-PrBW

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Dancing to Death: Saints Agnes and Agatha and the Humble Fearlessness of Faith

Saints Agnes and Agatha were two of Luther’s favorite martyrs.

Agnes was born in Rome in 291 to a wealthy Christian family. She was a beautiful young girl. Many of the men of Rome sought her, but she refused, committed to prayer and study of the Scripture. Rebuffed, these men reported her to the authorities as a Christian. She was dragged naked through the streets, forced to live in a brothel for a month, and then beheaded in a spectacle.

The account of her martyrdom was made especially famous by Jerome, who prefaced his treatise On Virginity with this account. This essay was written in 377 in Rome. We here include the entire section for two reasons: first, because of its moving beauty, and second, to provide a taste of the more reasonable martyrologies which Luther would have studied.  

And my task begins favourably, that since to-day is the birthday of a virgin, I have to speak of virgins, and the treatise has its beginning from this discourse. It is the birthday of a martyr, let us offer the victim. It is the birthday of St. Agnes, let men admire, let children take courage, let the married be astounded, let the unmarried take an example. But what can I say worthy of her whose very name was not devoid of bright praise? In devotion beyond her age, in virtue above nature, she seems to me to have borne not so much a human name, as a token of martyrdom, whereby she showed what she was to be.

But I have that which may assist me. The name of virgin is a title of modesty. I will call upon the martyr, I will proclaim the virgin. That panegyric is long enough which needs no elaboration, but is within our grasp. Let then labour cease, eloquence be silent. One word is praise enough. This word old men and young and boys chant. No one is more praiseworthy than He who can be praised by all. There are as many heralds as there are men, who when they speak proclaim the martyr.

She is said to have suffered martyrdom when twelve years old. The more hateful was the cruelty, which spared not so tender an age, the greater in truth was the power of faith which found evidence even in that age. Was there room for a wound in that small body? And she who had no room for the blow of the steel had that wherewith to conquer the steel. But maidens of that age are unable to bear even the angry looks of parents, and are wont to cry at the pricks of a needle as though they were wounds. She was fearless under the cruel hands of the executioners, she was unmoved by the heavy weight of the creaking chains, offering her whole body to the sword of the raging soldier, as yet ignorant of death, but ready for it. Or if she were unwillingly hurried to the altars, she was ready to stretch forth her hands to Christ at the sacrificial fires, and at the sacrilegious altars themselves, to make the sign of the Lord the Conqueror, or again to place her neck and both her hands in the iron bands, but no band could enclose such slender limbs.

A new kind of martyrdom! Not yet of fit age for punishment but already ripe for victory, difficult to contend with but easy to be crowned, she filled the office of teaching valour while having the disadvantage of youth. She would not as a bride so hasten to the couch, as being a virgin she joyfully went to the place of punishment with hurrying step, her head not adorned with plaited hair, but with Christ. All wept, she alone was without a tear. All wondered that she was so readily prodigal of her life, which she had not yet enjoyed, and now gave up as though she had gone through it. Every one was astounded that there was now one to bear witness to the Godhead, who as yet could not, because of her age, dispose of herself. And she brought it to pass that she should be believed concerning God, whose evidence concerning man would not be accepted. For that which is beyond nature is from the Author of nature.

What threats the executioner used to make her fear him, what allurements to persuade her, how many desired that she would come to them in marriage! But she answered: “It would be an injury to my spouse to look on any one as likely to please me. He who chose me first for Himself shall receive me. Why are you delaying, executioner? Let this body perish which can be loved by eyes which I would not.” She stood, she prayed, she bent down her neck. You could see the executioner tremble, as though he himself had been condemned, and his right hand shake, his face grow pale, as he feared the peril of another, while the maiden feared not for her own. You have then in one victim a twofold martyrdom, of modesty and of religion. She both remained a virgin and she obtained martyrdom.7

Agnes of Rome, age 12, martyred on January 21, 304, in the Great Persecution of Diocletian. We’ll meet her in the resurrection.

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Agatha was born in Sicily in 231. Like Agnes, it is thought that Agatha was born to a wealthy Christian family, and, at a young age, took a vow of virginity, committing her life to prayer and study of the Scriptures. (Luther understood Agatha to be an example of how the monasteries had begun well, as schools of the Scriptures.) A certain Quintianus, provost of Sicily, desired to marry her, both for her beauty and her wealth. He brought Agatha to make a sacrifice to idols, but she refused. Here begin an escalating series of tortures, first to convert, and then to destroy Agatha.

Her story, like many of the martyrs, is told in The Golden Legend, a wildly popular collection first published around 1260. These accounts are full of miracles accomplished by the martyrs in life and in death, and the collection carries with it all the piety of the cult of the saints that was so roundly criticized by Luther and the other reformers.8 But these accounts were popular, and would have been one of Luther’s sources for these stories.

To get a feel for the medieval martyrologies, and to fill in some of the details of Agatha’s martyrdom, we’ll let The Golden Legend[1]9 take up the story. (Like the reformers, we’ll cut out a lot of the legendary stuff.)

When [Quintianus] saw her firm in her purpose, he put her in the keeping of a woman named Aphrodisia, which had nine daughters, over foul, like unto the mother. This did he for to induce St. Agatha to do his will within thirty days.

Agatha refused, saying:

“My courage and my thought be so firmly founded upon the firm stone of Jesu Christ, that for no pain it may not be changed; your words be but wind, your promises be but rain, and your menaces be as rivers that pass, and how well that all these things hurtle at the foundement of my courage, yet for that it shall not move.”

 The Golden Legend then mentioned Agatha’s desire for martyrdom.

In this manner answered she, and alway wept in making her prayers, and much great desire had she to come to Jesu Christ by martyrdom and by torments.

Aphrodisia sent her back to Quintianus.

When Aphrodisia saw well that in no wise she would be moved, she went to the provost Quintianus, and said to him: “Sooner should the stones wax soft, and iron turn to soft lead, than turn the courage of this maid, or to take from her the Christian faith.”

Calling her to himself, Quintianus began the trial. This was the real test of the martyrs. They were faced with the option of idolatry or torture and death.

When Quintianus heard this, anon he made her to come tofore him in judgment, and demanded her of her lineage, and at the last he would constrain her to make sacrifice unto the idols.

St. Agatha answered that they were no gods, but were devils that were in the idols made of marble and of wood, and overgilt.

Quintianus said, “Choose one of two; or do sacrifice to our gods, or thou shalt suffer pain and torments.”

St. Agatha said, “I marvel much that so wise a man is become such a fool, that thou sayest of them to be thy gods, whose life thou ne thy wife will follow. If they be good I would that thy life were like unto theirs; and if thou refusest their life, then art thou of one accord with me. Say then that they be evil and so foul, and forsake their living, and be not of such life as thy gods were.”

Quintianus said, “What goest thou thus vainly speaking? Make sacrifice unto the gods, or if thou do not I shall make thee to die by divers torments.”

St. Agatha abode firm and stable in the faith. Then Quintianus did do put her in a dark prison, and she went also gladly, and with as good will as she had been prayed to go to a wedding.

This last line, “she went also gladly, and with as good will as she had been prayed to go to a wedding,” is what stuck in the imagination of Martin Luther. We will see it. When Luther wrote of Agnes and Agatha, he mentioned their joyfulness on the way to torment, their dancing to death. First, though, Agatha had a crown to achieve.

The trial continued the following day.

On the morning Quintianus made her to be brought tofore him in judgment, and said to her, “Agatha, how art thou advised for thy health?” She answered, “Christ is mine health.”

Quintianus said, “Deny Christ thy God, by which thou mayest escape thy torments.”

St. Agatha answered, “Nay, but deny thou thine idols which be of stones and of wood, and adore thy maker, that made heaven and earth, and if thou do not thou shalt be tormented in the perpetual fire in hell.”

That did it. Quintianus had Agatha drawn and stretched. He ordered her breasts to be cut off. Agatha continued to confess her faith. She was put in prison, and here follows a long account of a miracle. St. Peter appeared to her in prison, offered to heal her, and, in the end did. Four days later she was brought before Quintianus and continued to confess Christ.

After four days Quintianus made her to be brought tofore him in judgment, and said to her that she should do sacrifice to the idols.

She answered, “These words be vain, and thy commandments evil, they make the air to stink, he is much mechant that believeth in a stone without entendment, and leaveth our Lord the very God that hath healed me, and hath restored to me again my paps.”

Quintianus demanded her, “Who is he that hath healed thee?”

She said, “Jesu Christ.”

Quintianus said, “Namest thou yet Jesu Christ?”

She answered, “I shall have in my heart Jesu Christ as long as I shall live.”

Quintianus said, “Yet shalt thou see if he may help and heal thee.” And then he made her, all naked, to be rolled upon burning brands, and anon the ground where the holy virgin was rolled on, began to tremble like an earthquave, and a part of the wall fell down upon Silvain, counsellor of Quintianus, and upon Fastion his friend, by whose counsel she had been so tormented. And then all the city of Catania was abashed, and the people came running unto the house of Quintianus, saying, in a great bruit that the city was in a great peril for the torments that he did to St. Agatha.

Quintianus redoubled the bruit of the people, and went out behind and commanded that she should be remised in prison. When she came into the prison she joined her hands, holding them up to heavenward, and said in praying, “Lord God Jesu Christ which hast created me of nought, and sith my youth hast kept me and hast suffered me to live well in my youth, which hast taken from mine heart the love of the world and hast made me to overcome the torments, and hast lent me patience among the pains, I pray thee that thou take my spirit, for it is time that thou make me to depart from this world and to come to thy mercy.”

This orison and prayer made she on high tofore many persons. And anon after she gave up the ghost, and rendered her soul, the year of our Lord two hundred and fifty-three in the time of Decius, the emperor of Rome.

Agatha of Sicily, age 22, martyred in 253, in the persecution of Decius. We’ll meet her in the resurrection. 

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In the 54 volumes of the American Edition of Luther’s Works he mentioned Agatha about 31 times, and Agnes 41 times, often together. Luther understood their joyful confidence in the midst of suffering to be a work of the Holy Spirit, and the mark of a Christian.

I’d like to give Luther some room and let him preach to us from the Scriptures and the accounts of Agnes and Agatha. He brought these martyrs into his teaching as prime examples of how the Lord overcomes the world and the devil through the victory of faith.

In John 14:16-17, Jesus promises us the gift of the Holy Spirit: “I will ask the Father, and He will give you another Helper, to be with you forever, even the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees Him nor knows Him. You know Him, for He dwells with you and will be in you.”

Thus we read about the holy martyrs who defied tyrants, or about the suffering and tortures of the young virgins Agnes and Agatha, who were so cheerful and happy on their way to prison and death that they imagined with pride that they were going to their wedding. Indeed, dear daughter, if you can face imprisonment and beheading as though you were going to a dance, then your heart, mind, and courage must surely be different from the world’s. You can disdain life and limb, nobility and friendship, and all the possessions on which the world places its reliance. Such courage must be the work of none other than the Holy Spirit.

(Martin Luther, LW 24:118, On John 14:17, c. 1537)

First, what stuck out to Luther (and should to us as well) was their cheerfulness in the midst of such mistreatment and torture. They surpassed courage. They rejoiced in the midst of terror. They danced to death. This is the work of faith, giving the martyrs a “different heart, mind, and courage.” The Holy Spirit, who both led Jesus to temptation and raised Him from the dead, made them to be new creations. They were not of this world and the things of this world, not bound to this life, but free to live and free to die. Eternal life took hold of them, and the grip of life so tight that the grip of death did not frighten them at all. 

Agnes and Agatha treasured the Lord’s Word above all things, resulting in a corresponding disdain for “life, limb, nobility, friendship, and possessions.” Thus their dance to death was not a manufactured joy or a coerced contentment. Christ was truly set apart in their heart, their treasure was in heaven, and the summons to death’s sleep was truly sweet.

Faith works a true change in the Christian heart.

Faith is a divine work in us that transforms us and begets us anew from God, kills the Old Adam, makes us entirely different people in heart, spirit, mind, and all our powers, and brings the Holy Spirit with it. Oh, faith is a living, busy, active, mighty thing, so that it is impossible for it not to be constantly doing what is good.

Faith is a vital, deliberate trust in God’s grace, so certain that it would die a thousand times for it. And such confidence and knowledge of divine grace makes us joyous, mettlesome, and merry toward God and all creatures.

(Martin Luther, LW 35:370, Preface to Romans, 1522, 1546, quoted in the Formula of Concord, IV:10,12)

“Joyous, mettlesome, and merry,” would that this would be a description of us.

Thus the saintly martyrs and the saintly maidens Agatha, Lucia, and many others were bound to the vine. They regarded death as a game and sin and hell as nothing. They were completely certain of the forgiveness of sins, eternal life, and the best intention of the Father. Even in the midst of death they were joyful and fearless.

(Martin Luther, LW 8:255, On Genesis 49:12, 1545)

Faith marries us to Christ, and divorces us from the world.10 This antagonism towards the world sets us free. The antagonism of the world increases this freedom. (Get ready, this is a good one…)

Thus we also read that when St. Agatha, a girl fourteen or fifteen years old, was being led to imprisonment and torture, she went cheerfully and said that she felt as though she were being escorted to a dance. These are surely words of comfort and defiance from a young girl who regards the torment and death to which she is being led as no different from a wedding and an occasion for the greatest joy. This is due to faith, which has averted the eyes from the physical appearance and sensations and has directed them upward to the life beyond. It has concluded: “What can they accomplish, even if they do their worst and afflict me with every misfortune? They only usher me quickly from this misery to Christ in heaven.” It is the sole purpose of all the sufferings of Christians to promote our Christian life and to bear fruit for a fuller knowledge and a stronger confession of the Word, a more certain hope, and a wider expansion of the kingdom of Christ. The world, to be sure, intends to do us harm, but it really accomplishes no more than what the church sings about the martyrs: “Unknowingly they lead us into eternal joys.” Unknowingly and involuntarily the world leads the Christians through torture and death to eternal joys. Such tortures are nothing else, as St. Agatha said, than taking our arms in a friendly way and leading us to heaven as a bride is led to a dance. Whatever harm is done to Christians by the world, God turns back their anger and lets the harm redound to their advantage.

(Martin Luther, LW 24:196-197, On John 15:2 c. 1537)

Suffering helps us lift our eyes “to the life beyond,” to eternal life where true joys are found, where Jesus is preparing a place for us. Because death brings us into the kingdom of Christ, and because suffering brings us closer to death, the troubles of this life lead us to eternal joys! The devil cannot help but serve our Lord Jesus. He tempts us, troubles us, threatens us, tortures us, and takes us by the hand and leads us to our Bridegroom Christ! Glory! Lord, give us the eyes to see what Agnes and Agatha saw!

Just as the devil brought ruin on himself and his kingdom by driving Jesus to the cross, so now he continues to work his own destruction through the crosses and troubles he brings to the Christian.

Because the Christian is forgiven, filled with the Holy Spirit, and joyful, the devil’s attacks confirm the mercy of God, and culminate in the great gift of death, our heavenly birth.

Consider this commentary from Luther on Psalm 54.

Thus the flesh is crucified, but the spirit is saved and set free. See how short this psalm is, and yet how long! Thus the apostle says (2 Cor. 12:9–10): “For strength is made perfect in weakness,” and “when I am weak, then I am strong.” Again, “I will gladly boast of my weaknesses that the strength of Christ may dwell in me.” Ps. 68:9: “It was weakened, but Thou didst make it perfect.” Thus we read, in 2 Cor. 13:3: “Christ is not weak but powerful in you.” And this way of speaking is quite customary for the apostle. Did not also the holy martyrs demonstrate this in deed? Think of St. Agatha, St. Lucia, St. Agnes, and others, how the more people raged against them openly, the more courageous they became inwardly. Here they were able to say, “In distress Thou hast enlarged me” (Ps. 4:1).

(Martin Luther, LW 10, On Psalm 54:4)

The Christian might be lowly in every way: small, weak, poor, and foolish. Yet the Word that dwells in us in indestructible. The strength and might of God are wrapped up in humility, the victory of faith hidden under the suffering of the martyrs. Faith sees this, rejoices, and grows more and more courageous.

This courage and joy in the face of death is so strange Luther considered it a kind of spiritual drunkenness, drunk with joy. There is a sanctified madness to the Christian’s approach to suffering.

And in Rom. 5:3 St. Paul says: “We also rejoice in our sufferings.” Later on many martyrs, men and women, went to their deaths with happy hearts and laughing mouths as though they were going to a happy festival or dance. So we read of St. Agnes and St. Agatha, who were virgins of thirteen or fourteen years, and of many others. They not only boldly and confidently conquered the devil and the world through their deaths, but were also cheerful with all their hearts, just as if they had been drunk with great joy. And it does vex the devil beyond measure when one can so confidently despise his great might and guile. In our times, too, many have died cheerfully because they have confessed Christ.

(Martin Luther ,LW 12:177, On Psalm 23:5)

Remembering that the devil’s great “might and guile” is the fear of death (Hebrews 2:14), we see that the joy of Agnes and Agatha was not only conquering the devil and the world, but vexing the devil beyond measure. The devil hates it when we are not afraid.

Luther knew that this joyful dying is not easy. Everything in our flesh fights against it. He gave great pastoral insight on facing these fears, reminding that David and Paul also had that same struggle.

“Good!” you say, “but I do not yet find myself sufficiently well equipped to die cheerfully.” That does not matter. As mentioned earlier, David did not always have the ability either; indeed, at times he complained that he had been cast away from the presence of God. Nor did other saints at all times have full confidence in God and an eternal pleasure and patience in their distresses and afflictions. St. Paul at times trusted so securely and surely in Christ that he would not have bothered even to stand up because of the Law, sin, death, and the devil. “It is no longer I who live,” he says (Gal. 2:20), “but Christ who lives in me.” And (Phil. 1:23): “My desire is to depart and to be with Christ.” And (Rom. 8:32, 35): “Who shall separate us from the love of God? He did not spare His own Son, but gave Him up for us all. Will He not also give us all things with Him? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or the sword separate us from Him?” When he speaks here of death, the devil, and all misfortune, he is as sure as though he were the strongest and greatest saint, for whom death would be pure joy. Elsewhere, then, he speaks as though he were the weakest and greatest sinner on earth. 1 Corinthians 2:3: “I was with you in weakness and in much fear and trembling.” Romans 7:14: “I am carnal, sold under sin,” which brings me into captivity. Romans 7:24: “Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from the body of this death?” And in Galatians 5:17, he teaches that in the saints there is an eternal struggle of the flesh against the spirit. Therefore you ought not despair so soon, though you find yourself weak and fainthearted, but pray diligently that you might remain with the Word and grow in the faith and knowledge of Christ.

(Martin Luther, LW 12:178)

What if we are not ready to die like the martyrs? First, don’t despair. Next, consider Paul and David, who had the same struggle,s, and know that the flesh and the spirit are battling in you. Finally, pray that you would remain in the Word and grow in faith and the knowledge of Christ. We know that readiness to die is a gift of the Holy Spirit, and that the Lord will give it at the right time, when it is needed. The martyrs are not examples of superhuman faith; they are examples of the power of God and the work of the Holy Spirit. Cheerfulness in the face of death is not accomplished by our own strength, but by the Word of God.

When we have Christ’s Word in our heart, we scorn and defy the devil’s wrath. Notice, first, how Luther extols the Word of Christ.  Next, see how the Word which prevails is the Word of Jesus’ victory over sin, death, and the devil on the cross. Finally, watch this Word frustrate the devil. (This is a long quotation, but, friend, you tell me which part I could cut out.)

Accordingly, having peace in Him means nothing else than this: he who has Christ’s Word in his heart becomes so bold and unafraid that he can scorn and defy the devil’s wrath and raging. This was demonstrated by the holy martyrs, yes, even by young maidens like Saints Agatha and Agnes, who faced their torment joyfully, as though they were going to a dance, and even mocked their angry tyrants. Do you not suppose that it vexed the tyrants to see a young girl so utterly despise their devilish anger, the sword, and death that she called it nothing else than going to a dance? My dear friend, where does she get such defiance? The precious Word of Christ gives it to her. When this Word enters the heart, it generates courage like that of these saintly maidens. It must annoy the devil beyond measure and inflict great agony on him to see his fierce anger—the anger of a dragon and a lion, the anger which devours the whole world—so utterly ridiculed and despised. Such courage can be brought about with one little word from Him who says: “I have told you this. Therefore you have heard from Me that you shall be of good cheer and unafraid, that I have overcome the world, and that you shall be a mighty lord and shall trample them underfoot, even though they put you to death.”

In what way were the dear martyrs, and especially such young girls, different from us and other people? What was the difference? Where did they get the courage and the joy others do not have? Manifestly, from no other source than this Word in their hearts. “Therefore,” Christ says here, “just bear in mind that I have told you this. Do not be overawed, but confidently overawe those who want to plague and torture you. For their plaguing, torturing, and frightening shall become your joy and delight, your garden of roses.”

And what is the reason for all this? How does Christ make them so defiant? How does He fill their hearts with such comfort? He does so when He says: “The battle is already won. I have overcome the world.” “Indeed,” you declare, “it is easy for Thee to say that Thou hast overcome, just as it is easy for others—Peter and Paul, for example—to say this. But where am I?” Christ answers: “I certainly am not telling you this for My own benefit. Do you not hear? This is meant for you. You are to know that it was not for Myself that I overcame the world, and you are to take comfort from this knowledge. For I did not have to descend from heaven for My own sake, since I was Lord over all creatures before I did so, and the devil and the world surely had to let Me alone. But I did this for your sakes, and it is for your sakes that I am saying this. My words are meant for your comfort, consolation, and peace. Therefore take them to heart, and consider that I, Jesus Christ, have won the victory.”

Christ says that the victory has been won, that all peril and anxiety have vanished. It is no longer necessary for us to wrestle and fight. All this has already taken place. The world, the devil, and death have been defeated and lie prostrate. Heaven, righteousness, and life are victorious. All that remains for us to do is to spread this news throughout the world and to intone the ἐπινίκιον or song of victory and to sing joyfully “Christ is risen.” He has accomplished all this and has given complete victory to those who hear and believe this. But we must preach, confess, and speak highly of this news before the entire world; we must rely on it and say to anyone who wants to attack us: “What do you propose to do, tyrant, world, and devil? Are you robbing me of my property, my honor, my life? Then what? The victory has been won; yes, it has been won. For here is Christ, who lives and conquers. My dear sir, do not try to rob me of Him. Or if you can, try your power on Him once more, and see what happens.”

A Christian must accustom himself to think about Christ’s victory—the victory in which everything has already been accomplished and in which we have everything we should have. Henceforth we live only to spread among other people the news of what Christ has achieved. We must do so by exhorting them with words and with our example to give thought to the victory Christ has won for us and has given to us. For this Victor has accomplished everything. There is nothing for us to add to what He has done—neither the blotting out of sin nor victory over the devil and death. Everything has already been laid low. Henceforth our suffering and fighting are no real battle; they are only a prize or a part of the glory of this victory.

For our suffering, yes, the suffering and the blood of all the martyrs and saints, would not gain the victory for us. It is impossible for us to defeat and trample underfoot sin, death, and hell by what we do. The pope and his crowd lie when they say that we can do this; by making such a statement they insult and blaspheme Christ. Here my fighting comes too late. If I am to have comfort and peace, the battle must have been won beforehand, and the victory must be there. “I,” says Christ, “have already accomplished this. But accept it, and make use of My victory by singing about it, glorying in it, and making a show of it. Just be of good cheer.”

(Martin Luther, LW 24:420-422, On John 16:33, c. 1537)

Christ is risen! Christ has triumphed! The kingdom of darkness is overthrown. The battle is over, there is no fighting left for us to do. Our work is no work at all. We accept the victory of Jesus, sing about it, glory in it, make a show of it, and are of good cheer. We rejoice in the work that Christ has accomplished for us.

When Agnes and Agatha dance to death they are celebrating the resurrection. When they suffer with such good cheer, they confess the empty tomb.

Where there is the forgiveness of sins, there also is life and salvation. Where there is the forgiveness of sins, there is no fear of sin, death, and the devil. A bad conscience makes death fearful. A good conscience (that is, a forgiven conscience) makes death sweet.

And we who believe have this beginning, that even when we feel death, we nevertheless do not fear it as others, who are tormented by an evil conscience and grow pale even when the word “death” is mentioned, feel it. But the godly and saintly martyrs despise death and laugh at it. Thus when Agnes was being carried off to prison and torture, she said that she felt just as if she were being led to a dance. What, I ask, was the source of such great courage on the part of the maiden? She was not afraid. She did not tremble. No, she exulted as though she were being summoned to a most sumptuous feast. This was no Epicurean contempt of death; it was true wisdom and understanding, because of which she concluded that life was very close to her. Therefore she laughed at the devil and death and regarded them as a joke, because for her death had been swallowed up through life. This is the theology we teach.

(Martin Luther, LW 8:191, On Genesis 48:21, emphasis added)

Luther knew that other philosophies attempt to set people free from the fear of death. Epicureanism, for example, teaches that there is no judgment after death, and therefore death is not to be feared. This is not a Christian fearlessness. Death is not the end, but the beginning. Death, for the Christian, is the doorway to life eternal. Where is death’s victory? Christ is risen. Death is swallowed up by life. How can death devour us when it has already been chewed up and spit out by Jesus?

Faith brings the objective truth of the resurrection of Jesus into the Christian heart and conscience. It changes who we are, and, in turn, changes how we see the world. We are a new creation, and when we are made new, “all things are made new!” (2 Corinthians 2:17). God is our friend. Life is a gift. Death is a sleep. Persecutions and troubles are joy and dancing.

When the heart is cheerful, everything looks happy, even the cross and persecution. Thus St. Agnes, led to the sacrifice, was in her heart being escorted to the dance. Thus all the godly regard all things as happy in inner peace and happiness and rejoicing in the Spirit. Here you see that all Christians are joyful because peace is a fruit of the Spirit, and so is joy.

(Martin Luther, LW 17:258, On Isaiah 55:12)

To the pure, all things are pure. Even the devil is a servant of God to bring us to Christ and help us on the way to eternal life.

This is a very practical theology. It was practical for Luther. The pope and the emperor were raging against the Reformers. Many preachers of the Gospel were martyred. Luther expected martyrdom himself. What do you do in these circumstances? Or, perhaps a better question, what is the Lord accomplishing through these circumstances?

Thus by not turning away evils or enemies but by turning them loose, the Lord causes us to feel safe, to rejoice always, not to be overcome by any evil, even though the whole world may bare its fangs against us. Let the pope rage. Let the emperor and his princes threaten us with evil. We shall sit in the beauty of peace, even though they throw us into prison. If they are allowed to give themselves over to their wrath, if finally they even slay us, we will rejoice no less than if we had been invited to a wedding. This is the response St. Agnes gave to the tyrant who was about to kill her, etc.

(Martin Luther, LW 20:25, On Zechariah 2)

The Lord lets the evil loose on us so that we would feel safe and rejoice! This seems counterintuitive, but the Lord teaches us joy in tribulation. He teaches us the beauty of peace in prison. The Lord overcomes the strong through the weak, and He gives us that victory, even if we are slain.

Luther also recognized the target of persecution as Christ and His Word. We are attacked because we are in Christ and Christ is in us. This gives us even more confidence. Jesus cannot be overthrown. He holds the field forever.

Dear world, you are not persecuting me; you are persecuting Christ, my Lord. Since I am aware of this, I challenge you to do your worst. Here I stand in God’s name and let you, together with all the devils from hell, fume in their name. You can persecute, exile, yes, even kill me, if my Lord Christ so wills; but you will not deprive me of my courage and my comfort, nor will you bring me to the point of being grieved in my heart. For since I am experiencing this for the sake of Christ, I shall cheerfully risk it in His name and only sing and exult joyfully in the face of the devil’s raging. In this way the devil discovers that he is losing his power and that he cannot dig his sword and spear in as far as he would like. For he is not concerned about tormenting us bodily; but he is a spirit who incessantly thirsts for our tears and our heart’s blood, to make us despair and languish with sadness. This would be his joy and delight. Yet he will not succeed in this; we will turn the tables on him and learn to mock both the devil and the world. Then we will laugh gleefully at them, not they at us. The skill with which they want to make us sad, angry, and impatient will fail them; and they will consume themselves, together with their hatred and wrath; and when they see us, they will suffer great agony. They will see that we remain cheerful through it all and scorn them when they attempt to vent their anger on us so vehemently.

This is what the holy martyrs, also young maidens such as Agnes and Agatha, did in times past. The more angrily their tyrannical judges raged, the more defiant the maidens were.

(Martin Luther, LW 24:277, emphasis added, On John 15:19, c. 1537)

This passage gives us that key to understanding Luther’s theology of martyrdom. The devil attacks our bodies, but he really desires our “tears and heart blood,” that is, our sadness and despair, our fear and worship. Yet these belong to Christ. We are the redeemed, the baptized, the children of God. We are forgiven and given eternal life, and therefore we are joyful and free.

As we rejoice in suffering and are cheerful in death, we “turn the tables” on the devil, we mock and sing and laugh gleefully at him. The joy of the Lord is our strength, and faith in God’s promises the shield that stops all the devil’s darts from reaching their target.

One of the ways the devil attacks the church is by laughing at her. We feel the scorn of the world. We know that our culture despises the church and her doctrine. Luther would have us “turn the tables,” laugh at the devil, despise the world, defy the rage of persecutors with courage, comfort, and joy. Scowl fierce as they will, they can harm us none, neither will they steal our joy.

With this confidence, the enemies of Christ “will consume themselves.” The devil wants us to fear, and is enraged by our fearlessness. He wants us to doubt, and our faith makes him angry. The devil wants us to be sad, our cheer drives him mad. He exalts himself above God. We see his foolish pride for what it really is, and laugh. Our laughter reminds him of his lowly place. The confidence of our faith is the devil’s agony.

This understanding that the Lord uses the devil’s own works to undo the devil kingdom was fundamental to Luther’s preaching. The Lord works in a hidden way. It can’t be any other way. The Christian is immortal. There is a trick the Lord plays on the devil; He hides His strength in weakness. He covers life with death. He enlists the devil into His service for these tricks. The Christian is in on the game. We know that our momentary suffering is working in us the weight of eternal glory. We know that suffering produces hope. We know that Jesus is preparing a place for us, so that even though we have trouble in this world, we have good cheer in the confidence that Jesus has overcome the world, and that He is crushing the devil under our feet (Romans 16:20).

St. Agnes made it into Luther’s last sermon, preached on February 15, 1546 in Eisleben. He would die in the Lord’s name three days later. He preached about the rest and light yoke Jesus gives. Jesus gives us the strength to endure suffering. Jesus gives us the confidence to die with joy. Jesus gives us His Spirit who carries the heavy burdens for us. The hot coals we walk on will be like a bed of roses. When we suffer for Christ’s sake, He is pleased with us, and we are confident in Him.

Christ says, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy-laden” [Matt. 11:28], and it is as though He were saying: Just stick to me, hold on to my Word and let everything else go. If you are burned and beheaded for it, then have patience, I will make it so sweet for you that you easily would be able to bear it. It has also been written of St. Agnes that when she was led to prison to be killed, it was to her as if she were going to a dance. Where did she get this? Ah, only from this Christ, from believing this saying, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.” That is to say: If things go badly, I will give you the courage even to laugh about it; and if even though you walk on fiery coals, the torment shall nevertheless not be so severe and the devil shall nevertheless not be so bad, and you will rather feel that you are walking on roses. I will give you the heart to laugh even though Turk, pope, emperor, and everybody else be filled with horrible wrath and rage. Only come to me; and if you are facing oppression, death, or torture, because the pope, the Turk, and emperor are attacking you, do not be afraid; it will not be heavy for you, but light and easy to bear, for I give you the Spirit, so that the burden, which for the world would be unbearable, becomes for you a light burden. For when you suffer for my sake, it is my yoke and my burden, which I lay upon you in grace, that you may know that this your suffering is well pleasing to God and to me and that I myself am helping you to carry it and giving you power and strength to do so.

(Martin Luther, LW 51:391-392)

7 Jerome, On Martyrdom, 2:5-9. http://www.ccel.org/ccel/schaff/npnf210.iv.vii.ii.ii.html (accessed 1/10/19)

8 “In the papacy there is a book containing the legends or accounts of the saints. I hate it intensely, solely for the reason that it tells of revolting forms of worship and silly miracles performed by idle people. These legends and accounts actually accomplish only one thing: they increase contempt of the government and of the household, yes, even almost of the church itself. Therefore such tales should be shunned and utterly rejected, for the chief thing of Christian doctrine is faith. About this the entire book does not mention a single word anywhere. It is occupied solely with praising monasticism and monkish works, which are altogether at variance with the customary ways of people.” (LW 3:325, see Robert Kolb, For All the Saints, Changing Perceptions of Marytrdom and Sainthood in the Lutheran Reformation [Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 1987], 14.)

9 ^[1] The Golden Legend, Agatha, Jacobus Voragine (1275), tr. William Caxton (1483).  (http://www.christianiconography.info/goldenLegend/agatha.html, accessed 1/19/19). These passages are excerpted, and I’ve added more modern punctuation to aid readability. The old English spelling is retained.

10 Consider this glorious passage from The Freedom of the Christian, “The third incomparable benefit of faith is that it unites the soul with Christ as a bride is united with her bridegroom. By this mystery, as the Apostle teaches, Christ and the soul become one flesh [Eph. 5:31–32]. And if they are one flesh and there is between them a true marriage—indeed the most perfect of all marriages, since human marriages are but poor examples of this one true marriage—it follows that everything they have they hold in common, the good as well as the evil. Accordingly the believing soul can boast of and glory in whatever Christ has as though it were its own, and whatever the soul has Christ claims as His own. Let us compare these and we shall see inestimable benefits. Christ is full of grace, life, and salvation. The soul is full of sins, death, and damnation. Now let faith come between them and sins, death, and damnation will be Christ’s, while grace, life, and salvation will be the soul’s; for if Christ is a bridegroom, He must take upon Himself the things which are His bride’s and bestow upon her the things that are His. If He gives her His body and very self, how shall He not give her all that is His? And if He takes the body of the bride, how shall He not take all that is hers?” (LW 31:351)