Martin Marty, one of the 20th century’s great scholars of religion, died in late February at the age of 97. He was also a fixture of mainline Protestantism, and of one of the mainline’s great institutions, the University of Chicago Divinity School.
I met Marty a few times over the years, usually at events at Notre Dame or Baylor. My most vivid memory of him was at an event at Notre Dame, probably about twenty years ago. I brought my wife along (I think there was a dinner involved). She is a science teacher and definitely not the person in the room that conference attendees would look to “network” with.
But up walks Martin Marty, who introduced himself to her with his native Nebraska accent and said “My name is Martin Marty, what’s your name?” He was delighted to find out that she was a science teacher, and he asked about her work and students.
This displayed a virtue that is quite rare among scholars - a humble interest in other people, even when it is clear that the person in question can do nothing to help you professionally. Marty was the definition of a “big deal” in terms of his c.v. and his institutional affiliation, yet he assumed that my wife might not know who he was. He knew that he was “famous” in a very narrow sphere, as even the best-known academics usually are.
Marty was phenomenally productive and disciplined, generating a mind-boggling c.v. of some 60 books, plus countless columns, articles, and book reviews. How did he do it? Dean Leuking, a Lutheran pastor and longtime friend of Marty’s, recalls that
“Marty had a well-ordered sense of time; every minute counts. He got up in the morning at 4:44 a.m. and started writing before breakfast. He was remarkably productive. He could take a 10-minute power nap and be completely refreshed.” Lueking told of a day when a caller reached Marty’s assistant at the divinity school, who explained that the professor could not be interrupted because he was working on a book. To which the caller replied, ‘He’ll be done soon, just put me on hold.’”
That kind of discipline, practiced consistently over a long life, was the key to Marty’s scholarly legacy. How wonderful that, by all accounts, his personal virtues exceeded even his productivity.