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 Shaped by the Word |
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28 October 2007 If ever there was an historical event that proclaimed the UCC’s identity campaign—God is still speaking,—it would be the Reformation. That other historical event whose roots trace back directly to the UCC is now a national holiday, but we’ll hold on the turkey and cranberries for the moment. Thanks to our father-daughter duo, and thanks also to the editing expertise of Kate Mackey, we are reminded of today of our heritage as Protestants. We are reminded that we are one of three great strands of Christian witness: Catholic, Orthodox, and Protestant. We are reminded that, along with Protestant churches of all flavors, we trace our Reformed heritage back to 31 October 1517, when an exceedingly devout Catholic monk posted 95 points of discussion on the door of Castle Church in Wittenburg, Germany, and lit the twin fires of reform and revolution. Reform happens. Luther’s 95 points of discussion were 95 seeds of reform that, like Magna Carta, fanned revolution. On this Reformation Sunday, on the cusp of our own overwhelming affirmation to proclaim UCCSV as an Open and Affirming congregation, we are reminded that we stand with Martin Luther in our protest against practices of church and society that in our inner-most hearts, we believe are wrong-headed. On other occasions, we have lifted up the contributions of reformers beyond Luther—of Zwingli, Calvin, Wesley, Mack, Robinson, Fox, Penn, Becker, Stanton, Truth, King, and Romero. And just as Luther helped people recognize that God’s gifts are given freely, that we don’t earn sunlight or rain, any more than we earn God’s love, other reformers removed barriers of denomination, barriers of race, barriers of status, barriers of sex, barriers of sexual orientation and sexual identity from the bar of access to God’s presence, God’s justice, God’s compassion. Still others lifted up the ministry of all believers, calling us to lives of stewardship and simplicity long before the ecology movement was even a concept. What a heritage! Reformation happens, and as our scripture suggests, it happens in the most innocent of guises. Luther, pious to the point of obsession, was hot and bothered by the issue of indulgences—the Roman church’s practice of selling time off in purgatory for an appropriate amount of cash on the barrelhead. Didn’t matter if it was your cash or your relative’s, as long as it fattened the Pope’s coffers. But that didn’t square with sincere personal contrition. Luther was disturbed by the lucrative practice and said so in the blog of his day, by posting his concerns on the door of the church. Luther wasn’t alone. His concerns resonated with other people of faith, and thanks to the printing press, spread throughout Germany within two weeks. Within two months, his 95 concerns were all over Europe; Luther’s theses were the blog heard round the world. The selling of indulgences may have been the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back, but the challenge to papal authority was the crack in the dike. Luther’s deep personal piety and knowledge of the scriptures, the challenges he was now free to articulate, were resources he brought to Bible studies and discussions that spread like the California wildfires. The pieces came together, and struck a chord. To our twenty-first century ears, the chord it struck is familiar. One of the key tenets of the Reformation is the conviction that the Bible – and not the tradition of the church – is the source of truths central to our faith. It follows that if the basic elements of our faith are to be found in the scriptures, then the scriptures need to be in a language common to the people. And it follows that in order for people to study the scriptures in their native language, they need to be able to read. True to his convictions, Luther published a New Testament translation in German within five years of posting his theses, while other reformers became known for their ardent support of universal education. But as any of us who have wrestled with scripture know, turning to scripture can be something of a slippery slope, because in our interpretation, we constantly run the risk of trying to justify ourselves, rather than allowing the scripture to guide and shape us. Our morning’s text is a perfect example. As Jesus tells it, both the Pharisee and the tax collector cite the psalms in their prayers. The Pharisee “is [no…] villain [but…] represents complete dedication to observing the law of Moses.”[2,456] Like Job, his life is exemplary. The Pharisee begins his prayer by quoting Psalm 17, followed by a common rabbinic expression of thanksgiving. In contrast, the tax collector’s life is leaves everything to be desired. As Katy told us, tax collectors made the IRS look good. Their job automatically made them collaborators with Rome, and if they were any good at it, they lived well because they extorted funds beyond Rome’s requirements and lined their own pockets. Effectively, they were assumed to be political scum and religious deadbeats. But our tax collector isn’t totally out for the count: he’s in the temple, and he’s praying. He also quotes Psalms…but not Psalm 17 calling on God to give ear to his prayer from lips free of deceit, or that his steps have held fast to God’s paths. Our tax collector prays Psalm 51: Have mercy on me, O God…my sin is ever before me…I [have] done what is evil in your sight. Jesus’ point is that the Pharisee trusts in himself; the tax collector trusts in God.[2,456] It is a sobering point for all of us who are children of the Reformation. Because even when we turn to scripture, that bedrock of the Reformation, and of Christian faith as we understand it, how do we do so with both discernment and conviction? How do we sift the wheat of the prophetic voice that calls us to care for the poor, to tend the needs of the sick, to welcome the little children? How do we recognize the chaff that forbids us to wear clothing made of blended fibers, or that calls upon us to stone any child who blasphemes a parent? The old hymn has the quandary about right: new occasions teach new duties; time makes ancient good uncouth. We wrestle with scripture as Reformed theologian Karl Barth would have it, with the Bible in one hand, and the newspaper in the other.[1] Just last week, we listened to the story of the unjust judge and the persistent widow. Colby’s excellent sermon reminded us that, like the widow chipping away at the injustices that diminished her life, our call to become Open and Affirming was about chipping away at an injustice that diminishes the quality of life of a whole group of people. And lest we get too carried away with our own understandings, today’s scripture provides the antidote, reminding us that as active members of the faith community, we are both Pharisee and tax collector. So how do we put the pieces together? What principles can we appropriate as children of the Reformation? How do we stand on the Word, and take the Bible seriously without pretending that we take it literally? For starters, we remember that the Bible is not a book penned by a single author, but a library of books, penned over hundreds of years. It reflects personal and communal experiences of the active presence of the living God. * * * [1] Karl Barth famously urged us to travel through life with the Bible in one hand and our newspaper in the other, but in today's world the tension between the reality captured by the media and the promise conveyed by scripture becomes acute. ~ Study texts for ACCRA 2004, World Alliance of Reformed Churches, http://warc.ch/24gc/study/index.html |