January 12th, 1521.

Though excommunicated from the church last week, Martin Luther's daily life in Vittenberg, his duties as a pastor, as a university professor, and as a friar, continue as before.

Walking through the cloister this morning, he thinks back to the moment his life as a monk began.

Help me, Save me! I will become a monk!

I will become a monk!

I will become a monk.

Instinctively, he'd cried out to the patron saint of miners, his father's profession,

and when his life was spared he kept his vow.

On July 16, 1505, his friends at Airfoot University threw Martin a farewell party and the next morning he left his room walked

across town and halted at the great arched door of the Augustinian

cluster. What do you want?

God's grace and your mercy.

Inside the confines of the Augustinian monastery, Luther's life changed dramatically.

I nearly collapsed of exhaustion that first night.

I had no idea what vitches and deprivations awaited.

The cloister bell clanging at one in the morning, being wrenched from sleep in the dark of night, making the sign of the cross, covering

ourselves in the white robe, over that the scapular, one was never to leave his cell

unrobed and thus unfit for heaven. We were sprinkled with holy water

and fell to our knees at the high altar for prayer.

For Luther, one of the most appealing aspects of the monastery was the music.

Next to theology, I give music the highest place and honor. Music, the highest place and honor.

Music is the art of the prophets, the only art that can calm the agitations of the soul.

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