Reading this collection I found that Luther comes across as very passionate, uncompromising, and utterly convinced that the spiritual welfare of ordinary people was at stake. His struggle with fear, guilt, and the question of salvation is personal, and it makes the Ninety-Five Theses more than just a historical manifesto, as they feel like a window into the soul of a man wrestling with God.
From my perspective, there’s a lot to admire. Luther’s insistence on the primacy of Scripture and the call for genuine repentance follows the biblical and patristic emphasis on the interior life. His concern for the laity, his opposition to corruption, and his insistence that faith is personal and active rather than merely ritualistic. All of this resonates with my belief on the transformative nature of salvation and the importance of a living, dynamic relationship with God.
At the same time, it’s impossible to read Luther without noticing the divergences. His theology of justification by faith alone, for example, feels so individualistic compared to the an Orthodox understanding of salvation as a synergistic process, faith cooperating with grace, worked out in the life of the Church and the sacraments. Some of his critiques of the priesthood and sacramental life, though contextually understandable, come across as simplifying something complex, from an Orthodox standpoint. You also see a tension in his thought, a man deeply concerned with holiness, yet willing to break from centuries of tradition in ways that seem to risk fragmenting the Church rather than strengthening it.
Russell’s translation and editorial work are excellent. The notes and supplementary writings, letters, sermons, and smaller treatises, give a fuller picture of Luther beyond the fiery polemic. You see a man who is brilliant and devout, yes, but also humanly flawed, sometimes impatient, and often consumed by anxiety about God’s judgment. This humanity makes him relatable, but it also underscores how much his personal context shaped his theology, and how different it might look if filtered through the broader, more communal lens of Orthodoxy
Overall, this edition is a valuable read. It challenges you to think, to question, and to engage with a foundational moment in church history. From my perspective, I find myself both admiring Luther’s courage and theological boldness, while remaining cautious about adopting his conclusions uncritically. It’s definitely a book that provokes reflection not just on history or doctrine, but on the very nature of faith, authority, and the journey toward God.