In 1530, in Wittenberg, Luther held a mid-week sermon series (lectio continua) on the Sermon on the Mount, including the Beatitudes, the sixth statement of which reads as follows: “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God” (Mt 5:8). But who are the pure in heart who will see God? Luther’s commentary confused his audience just as much as it does today’s readers because it goes against the natural way of thinking; according to which, a person with a pure heart is one who can keep himself away from the world’s filth and can live a contemplative life, during which only divine things occupy his attention. Contrasting the filthy world and pure spirituality was as natural in the sixteenth century as it is in the early twenty-first century—even if for partly different reasons. Contrary to it, Luther tells the citizens of Wittenberg the following: the only thing that can be achieved with a contemplative life away from the world is that the heart becomes impure; the person falls into ungodliness because he is driven by his own—as Luther explains it—imaginations and dreams. If someone wants to be pure in heart, he can achieve it not by turning away from, but by turning toward the world, by living in it. Luther takes this so seriously that the blacksmith and the cobbler who reek of tar and pitch, and the servant who walks in filth up to his neck and even shovels dung become the paradigm of a pure-hearted person for him. Does the smell of these manual laborers repel us? As it turns out, they are the pure-hearted ones. In my study, I investigate this surprise and ask: How can the dung-shovelling maid become the paradigm of a believer for Luther?