Late yesterday I learned that my teacher, mentor, and friend Martin E. Marty died on Tuesday, Feb 25. He was 97.
I first heard about him when I was a student at Concordia College, Portland, Ore. Three of my professors there had been his undergraduate schoolmates, and two others had studied with him at the University of Chicago, and they occasionally pointed us to his books and essays. During those college years, The Christian Century, for which Marty was then serving as senior editor, became regular reading fare. His “M.E.M.O.” at the end of each issue was usually the first thing I pondered. While at Concordia Seminary, St. Louis (his alma mater, too, at least in name), I dove more deeply into his body of scholarship, which at that time included some forty books and countless essays. I took out a subscription to Context, his fortnightly commentary on items he had gleaned from the dozens of magazines and newspapers he read (often while taking a bath, he told me later). His autobiographical work, By Way of Response, convinced me to head to Chicago after seminary. (That book introduces readers to Franz Bibfeldt, a theologian who didn’t exist but who influenced Marty more than any theologian who did. That prank kept him from going to a London pastorate and sent him instead to Grace Lutheran Church, River Forest, where he served as an assistant pastor, and to graduate school at the U. of C. Years later he enjoyed learning about my own Bibfeldtian-inspired caper at seminary, but that’s another story.)
By the time I showed up at Swift Hall, in the fall of 1988, Marty was generally regarded as “the most influential living interpreter of religion in the U.S.” (Richard N. Ostling, Time [Dec 22, 1986], 59). Following the publication of his book, Righteous Empire, which won the National Book Award in 1972, and primarily as a result of his frequent public commentary—in essays, magazines (e.g., he once wrote about religion in the media for TV Guide; his Playboy interview), newspaper articles (e.g., the New York Times, etc.), and on television (e.g., Nightline, PBS, etc.)—he became “the quintessential public intellectual and public historian” (Catherine Albanese). In 1978, he was voted by the editors of 26 religious magazines as one of the two people then having the most influence on religion in the United States (the other: Billy Graham). According to historian L. Benjamin Rolsky, Marty was “arguably the public intellectual of the 1980s.”
Six memories stand out for me from my time with him at the U. of Chicago:
(1) his course on religion in America during the Great Depression, which included his two-page, singled-spaced typed response to the paper I wrote for him in that course (an essay on the LCMS in the 1930s, which he later convinced the editor of The Cresset to publish, in truncated form—my first publication);
(2) the priceless, truly mind-bending one-on-one seminars I had with him weekly in two different quarters, dealing with matters of nineteenth-century German Protestant history, philosophy, and theology (his question on one of my doctoral exams: “Tell me everything you know about the world of the emigrating Saxons. I want to know what you know about them up to the moment they got on the boat”);
(3) my first visit to his Riverside home, when he took me on a personal tour of the various libraries throughout the house and commented also on various photos on the walls (including one of him and Peter Berger sitting directly two rows ahead of then Bishop Wojtyła [later Pope John Paul II] at a session of Vatican II);
(4) his daily list of activities he needed to accomplish, scheduled down to the half minute, which he kept in his vest pocket and followed from the moment he rose each day at 4:57am (a practice I have not followed);
(5) an Easter Sunday where I worshiped at Grace, River Forest, and then spent the afternoon at the home of the pastor and his wife, Pr. Dean and Beverly Lueking, where Marty—Dean’s closest friend—and Harriet were also guests, and then later that evening watching the NBC Nightly News, where Marty was interviewed about the meaning of Easter;
and (6) his genuine kindness, attentiveness, and generosity to students and others. He was always quick with a smile, a joke, a question (“tell me about your world today”). Already in the late 1980s, he was downsizing his library. Guess where a lot of his German and Lutheran books are now residing? (Some years ago, my Valpo colleague Gretchen Buggeln came back from a visit to Marty, bringing with her a complete set of the fourth edition of Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart. “Tell Matt he will likely make more use of these than I will now….”)
After leaving Chicago, our paths continued to cross, often at the AAR, but also elsewhere. My wife Detra and I hosted him and his wife Harriet when he was given an honorary degree at Concordia Portland (of blessed memory) and I was still on the faculty there. That same weekend he was also given a similar honor by the U. of Portland. (Two honorary doctorates in one weekend! It was front-page news in the Portland Oregonian, which prompted retired U.S. senator Mark Hatfield to call me to see if I could set up a meeting between him and Marty, which was impossible, given the packed schedule.)
During my “troubles” in the LCMS, Marty frequently wrote me hard-copy letters (later emails), offering encouragement and counsel. His frequent refrain: “Remember, you are baptized!” Later, he helped pave the way for the publication of my first book, a revision of the doctoral dissertation I wrote for Brian Gerrish and David Tracy at Chicago. Still later, Marty graciously agreed to write the afterword to the first edition of my book on fundamental theology. It was there that he returned to a favorite philosopher and theme of his: Eugen Rosenstock-Huessy’s affirmation: “Respondeo etsi mutabor” (I respond although I will be changed). I was most pleased when he told me that the book caused him to rethink some matters. “I somehow managed to pass through five years of pre-seminary education in a denominational school and then through theological seminary, plus four more years for Master’s and Doctoral work, without ever having taken a course in philosophical theology. For two or three years I roomed with a philosopher, and learned much from him, but would not trust myself to try to show expertise.” Not so! Not so! I can only echo the principal points made today by Richard Rosengarten: “I was privileged to know Marty—first as a student, then as a colleague and ultimately as a dear friend… Throughout Marty treated me as his equal, which was at once characteristically generous and utterly incongruous. To me he was, always, a teacher: remarkable for the breadth and depth of his knowledge, unfailingly interesting, generous, and generative in his attention. I’ve learned a modest fraction of what he made available, yet it is an enormous gift.” (See here.)
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Detra and I are grateful for other memories, too, especially of those times when we visited the Marty’s at their home, when they still lived in Riverside, and then later when they lived near the top of the John Hancock Building. I’ve taken the liberty of uploading a photo from a dinner we had with them a few years back, at a little bistro, when they were still living in Chicago. The photo is classic Marty, with that twinkle in his eye. (On that day, I had brought them some wine from Oregon, to thank him for a gift of some books. I was always grateful to receive some of his books, and he was always grateful to receive some Oregon wine! He would then want to know what I knew about the region and the winery. “Tell me everything you know about….” Btw, it was on that occasion, too, that we heard several stories about Marty’s longtime friendship with the television producer Normal Lear [“All in the Family”; “The Jeffersons”; “Maude” etc.] and about their collaborative work, e.g., on the 1982 two-hour television special, “I Love Liberty” [featuring Robin Williams et al.], which Marty helped to write, and about his friendship with Bill Moyers.)
I am grateful for all Marty did for me and for so many others, for all he taught me, all he showed me. It was always a blessing to receive an email or a note from him, often in reply to one of my posts here. He always found time to respond—and to change, if necessary. I certainly would not have had the vocational trajectory I’ve been blessed to experience, were it not for him, his wisdom, guidance, and support. May he rest in God’s peace and may light perpetual shine upon him.
Addendum (3/2/25): Here is a link to Marty's obituary that appeared in today's New York Times:
https://www.nytimes.com/2025/03/02/us/martin-e-marty-dead.html#
Further addendum (3/10/25): Here is a link to additional reflections on Marty's life and vocation:
https://divinity.uchicago.edu/remembering-martin-e-marty-0
I particularly recommend the NPR piece and the "Sightings" article by Bret Colasacco:
https://martycenter.org/sightings/martin-marty-and-the-art-of-modern-american-religion
