On Oct. 31, 1517,Martin Luther nailed his 95 theses on the Wittenberg Cathedral door.
Allegations have never been verified that Luther was dressed in a Pope costume purchased from the first Party City and this act of rebellion was his "treat" in retaliation for the "Tricks" of centuries of papal abuses, primarily in the form of indulgences. Regardless,the church saw this as the equivalent of lighting a flaming bag of poo on the door step and running. Subsequently, Pope Leo X -- the dashing pre-pointy hat pontiff to the right -- with his figurative hem of robe sullied from stomping on said figurative bag to extinguish figurative flame, figuratively reprimanded Martin Luther. And by "figuratively reprimanded," I mean "literally excommunicated."
This excommunication, which sounds a lot like but is completely unrelated to an exorcism, took place at the Diet of Worms which, interestingly, today is also a gooey concoction of gummy worms mixed in whipped cream, lime jello mix and Mountain Dew and can be found at many Halloween parties (or a variation found here). The German Emperor Charles V demanded that Luther recant or reaffirm his position on 41 of the 95 theses.
The Diet of Worms, which was actually an assembly of the Roman Catholic church's muckety-mucks, took place in 1521, a mere four years after Luther's Flaming Theses prank. Remember, this was the time immediately prior to both email and the Pony Express, so the arm justice reacted slightly less swiftly in those days. By April, Luther refused to make nice, an example that would be followed by the Dixie Chicks some 489 years later, in defiance for chastisement received for expressing lament for having shared the home state of Texas with controversial US President George W. Bush. Dixie or the Chicks may or may not have thanked Martin Luther for his example in one of their Grammy acceptance speeches in 2007.
Leo X died in December of 1521, only seven months after his unsuccessful attempt of discipline of Luther at Worms, although the Protestant Patriarch would live another 25 years, only some of which were spent in hiding for the preservation of his life. Leo never did get to see Luther's head on pike, but the acrimonious relationship between the two is rumored to be the basis of the hit Neil Simon play The Odd Couple about the constantly-at-odds roommates Felix Ungar (The fastidious one) and Oscar Madison (the sloppy, poker-playing sports writer).
The play itself became a movie, a sequel, several stage revivals, a successful television comedy, a short-running animated cartoon series, and an unsuccessful second television series. The most famous Oscar was Walter Matthau, who ironically was not nominated for an Oscar for his portrayal. This destroyed the myth that the cinematic award was eponymous. Matthau did, however, win a 1965 Tony Award for his stage portrayal. Nobody named Tony has ever played either part on the stage. Yet, Tony Randall, who played Felix, did win an Emmy for his work, as did Jack Klugman, who portrayed Oscar. Nobody named Emmy ever played either Felix or Oscar. The original film duo of Matthau and Jack Lemmon would later pair in successive derivative roles, most notably the movie "Grumpy Old Men," and its sequel. Coincidentally, this was the exact term used in my world history class at a Liberal Arts University to describe Luther and Leo's relationship.
But I digress.
The defiance of Luther, in turn, resulted in the birth of the Protestant movement, which gave way to the Lutherans, Reformed church, and the Anabaptists. Luther's bravery was a model emulated by successive pranksters John Calvin and Ulrich Zwingli, who battled with the Roman Catholics over matters such as purgatory, marioloatry, papal authority, and whether or not Felix was Leo or Luther.
Today, millions of Catholics, Lutherans, Baptists, and dozens of other splinters of splinters have learned how to co-exist without really trying to understand the distinctions that define us. Four hundred and ninety years later, this original schism now serves as a primary defense in a Catholic's ability to politely decline a Lutheran's invitation to their church's "Pumpkin Patch." Historians are unclear whether Leo & Luther would be proud, our if the perspective of eternity would cause them to just incredulously shake their heads.
October 31, 2007 5:13 AM