The indulgence that broke Christendom was a building fund. To finance the new St. Peter's, and, less publicly, to retire the debts the young Archbishop Albrecht of Mainz had incurred buying his sees, a plenary indulgence was preached across Germany, and the Dominican Johann Tetzel worked the territories near electoral Saxony in 1517 with the full apparatus: processions, the papal bull on velvet, and preaching whose remembered jingle, as soon as the coin in the coffer rings, the soul from purgatory springs, may be caricature but caught the tenor.
Luther, then an Augustinian professor at Wittenberg, heard his parishioners' reports, and on 31 October 1517 issued ninety-five theses for academic disputation on the power of indulgences. The theses are more conservative than their legend, they assume purgatory and papal authority, but their edge is unmistakable: the pope can remit only what he or the canons imposed; the truly penitent already have full remission; and the treasury of the Church is the gospel, not a fund. The controversy escalated past indulgences within months, to authority itself.
The Council of Trent's eventual settlement, in its very last decree in 1563, held the line it needed: indulgences are wholesome and remain, but all traffic in them is condemned, the office of the pardoner abolished. Paul VI reorganized the whole practice in 1967, grounding it in the communion of saints; the indulgence survives, chastened, its history the standing case study in what happens when grace acquires a market.