A Faith That Matters Between Sundays
Stories
Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit
Series VI, Cycle C
On October 31, 1571, an Augustinian monk by the name of Martin Luther marched up to the castle church door in Wittenberg, Germany, where he was on the university faculty, and posted 95 theses or propositions concerning church policy and practice he proposed for debate. Why there and then? Well, the church door was the community bulletin board -- notices and advertisements were regularly placed there, just as they are on the bulletin board today at the grocery store. As to October 31, then and now that is the date for All Hallows Eve (Halloween, as we know it), the day before All Saints Day, November 1, a day that saw church attendance in medieval Europe at its peak as people gathered to remember the dearly departed. So, as in all of life, Luther knew that timing is everything, and this place on this day would be certain to attract a good audience. It worked. It started a debate that, in many ways, has continued for almost 500 years.
There is an old story about a six-year-old Protestant boy who accompanied the family of a six-year-old Catholic girl on an outing to the beach. The day was warm and the girl was precocious and could not wait to get into the water. She removed her clothes, but in her haste neglected to put on her swimsuit, and thereby gave the young lad an education. He stared at her with open mouth and remarked, "I didn't know there was that much difference between Protestants and Catholics!"
What are the differences? Well, there are some, although not nearly so many now as in generations past. When many of us were coming up, Protestants and Catholics eyed each other with, at best, suspicion, and, at worst, thinly disguised disdain. Not so now, fortunately. The world is smaller now; it is much more religiously diverse, and as 9/11 made all too plain, much more dangerous because of religion. The differences between Protestant and Catholic just do not seem so important anymore.
For that matter, as you history scholars know, Luther would have been appalled at the split that occurred in the church because of his questions. He wanted to fix a problem, not create an entirely new branch of Christianity. There were some issues that needed to be addressed. We wanted to fix them and move on.
Luther's immediate distress was over the sale of indulgences or "pardons" for sin offered by the church -- kind of a "Get Out of Hell Free" deal (but not quite "free," as we shall see). The young priest had a theological problem with that. His own study of scripture had convinced him of the truth of Paul's statement in the epistle to the Romans: "We maintain that a man is justified by faith apart from observing the law" (Romans 3:28). Brother Martin had come to the doctrine that has been called the cornerstone of the Reformation: Justification by faith alone. No "indulgences" necessary, thank you.
But Luther's new understanding clashed sharply with the church's position that people are saved by faith and good works -- God is willing and able to forgive sins, but God requires some religious ritual or good deed, some act of penance, to prove that the sinner is truly sorry. If the forgiven sinner dies before getting the slate wiped clean, he or she has to spend time in purgatory, a place of purifying pain, until the spiritual obligations are met. For Luther, this was a problem.
As we all know, the most sensitive nerve in a person's body is the one attached to the pocketbook. To be painfully honest, that same rule often applies to the church. That meant that Luther's concern might hit where it hurts. Indulgences had been used for hundreds of years to finance the work of the church. Indulgences had paid for the Crusades. Now, the pope was using them as a "Capital Campaign" to complete construction of St. Peter's Basilica in the Vatican.
Enter a new player onto the stage, a Dominican friar named Johann Tetzel. Tetzel had been commissioned to travel throughout much of Germany on behalf of the campaign. In exchange for a contribution, Tetzel would provide donors with an indulgence, either for a departed loved one, or even perhaps yourself to be used later (sort of a pre-need service). The sales pitch was down to a science, like an ancient version of "You Deserve a Break Today." Tetzel's jingle went, "As soon as the coin in the coffer rings/ a soul from purgatory springs."
To Luther, Tetzel's preaching was not simply bad business, it was bad theology. That precipitated the 95 Theses. Luther did not expect anything remarkable to happen now other than a scholarly debate. But, this thing began to lose all proportion and take on a life of its own. The people in the streets began discussing the issue; Luther became a hero, not because of his theology, but because he wanted to keep German money in Germany. And the rest, as they say, is history.
The Reformation laid important foundations for the faith you and I share today:
* It insisted that people are not saved by works but by faith alone.
* It said that religious authority did not lie in the church but in scripture.
* It showed that all believers are priests before God as they present the sacrifice of their lives.
* It showed the importance of people having the written word of God in their own language.
* It showed that Christian living was the service of God in any useful calling, whether ordained or lay -- one form of work is no more sacred and no more holy than another.
That last point, known doctrinally as "the sanctity of the common life," often gets short shrift in discussions of the reformation. I sometimes wonder if the reason is that people are not sure that they believe it.
Granted, all work is not equally important. I would never argue that a multi-million dollar NBA player is as important as a first-grade teacher, even though the compensation levels might indicate otherwise. All that money truly reflects is the ridiculous system of values extant in modern society -- someday, we will wise up (I hope). No, all work is not equally important, but the Reformation insists that all work has its own importance.
This understanding of the sanctity of the common life is where the rubber meets the road concerning the way we witness to our faith. This is the faith that matters between Sundays. This is the faith the world sees, and it preaches a sermon that is louder than any from a pulpit.
We believe God calls each of us to service, whether at a paying job, at home with a family, or in volunteer pursuits. If you would like some guidance concerning what is a valid "call" from God, use these four questions:
1. Is it something God wants to have done?
2. Does it match and challenge your particular gifts?
3. Is it work that you find internally meaningful?
4. Finally, do others affirm you in what you are doing?
The sanctity of the common life -- it is one of the foundations of the Reformation. Remember, what you do is part and parcel of your ministry, no matter where you carry it out. This is the faith that matters between Sundays.
There is an old story about a six-year-old Protestant boy who accompanied the family of a six-year-old Catholic girl on an outing to the beach. The day was warm and the girl was precocious and could not wait to get into the water. She removed her clothes, but in her haste neglected to put on her swimsuit, and thereby gave the young lad an education. He stared at her with open mouth and remarked, "I didn't know there was that much difference between Protestants and Catholics!"
What are the differences? Well, there are some, although not nearly so many now as in generations past. When many of us were coming up, Protestants and Catholics eyed each other with, at best, suspicion, and, at worst, thinly disguised disdain. Not so now, fortunately. The world is smaller now; it is much more religiously diverse, and as 9/11 made all too plain, much more dangerous because of religion. The differences between Protestant and Catholic just do not seem so important anymore.
For that matter, as you history scholars know, Luther would have been appalled at the split that occurred in the church because of his questions. He wanted to fix a problem, not create an entirely new branch of Christianity. There were some issues that needed to be addressed. We wanted to fix them and move on.
Luther's immediate distress was over the sale of indulgences or "pardons" for sin offered by the church -- kind of a "Get Out of Hell Free" deal (but not quite "free," as we shall see). The young priest had a theological problem with that. His own study of scripture had convinced him of the truth of Paul's statement in the epistle to the Romans: "We maintain that a man is justified by faith apart from observing the law" (Romans 3:28). Brother Martin had come to the doctrine that has been called the cornerstone of the Reformation: Justification by faith alone. No "indulgences" necessary, thank you.
But Luther's new understanding clashed sharply with the church's position that people are saved by faith and good works -- God is willing and able to forgive sins, but God requires some religious ritual or good deed, some act of penance, to prove that the sinner is truly sorry. If the forgiven sinner dies before getting the slate wiped clean, he or she has to spend time in purgatory, a place of purifying pain, until the spiritual obligations are met. For Luther, this was a problem.
As we all know, the most sensitive nerve in a person's body is the one attached to the pocketbook. To be painfully honest, that same rule often applies to the church. That meant that Luther's concern might hit where it hurts. Indulgences had been used for hundreds of years to finance the work of the church. Indulgences had paid for the Crusades. Now, the pope was using them as a "Capital Campaign" to complete construction of St. Peter's Basilica in the Vatican.
Enter a new player onto the stage, a Dominican friar named Johann Tetzel. Tetzel had been commissioned to travel throughout much of Germany on behalf of the campaign. In exchange for a contribution, Tetzel would provide donors with an indulgence, either for a departed loved one, or even perhaps yourself to be used later (sort of a pre-need service). The sales pitch was down to a science, like an ancient version of "You Deserve a Break Today." Tetzel's jingle went, "As soon as the coin in the coffer rings/ a soul from purgatory springs."
To Luther, Tetzel's preaching was not simply bad business, it was bad theology. That precipitated the 95 Theses. Luther did not expect anything remarkable to happen now other than a scholarly debate. But, this thing began to lose all proportion and take on a life of its own. The people in the streets began discussing the issue; Luther became a hero, not because of his theology, but because he wanted to keep German money in Germany. And the rest, as they say, is history.
The Reformation laid important foundations for the faith you and I share today:
* It insisted that people are not saved by works but by faith alone.
* It said that religious authority did not lie in the church but in scripture.
* It showed that all believers are priests before God as they present the sacrifice of their lives.
* It showed the importance of people having the written word of God in their own language.
* It showed that Christian living was the service of God in any useful calling, whether ordained or lay -- one form of work is no more sacred and no more holy than another.
That last point, known doctrinally as "the sanctity of the common life," often gets short shrift in discussions of the reformation. I sometimes wonder if the reason is that people are not sure that they believe it.
Granted, all work is not equally important. I would never argue that a multi-million dollar NBA player is as important as a first-grade teacher, even though the compensation levels might indicate otherwise. All that money truly reflects is the ridiculous system of values extant in modern society -- someday, we will wise up (I hope). No, all work is not equally important, but the Reformation insists that all work has its own importance.
This understanding of the sanctity of the common life is where the rubber meets the road concerning the way we witness to our faith. This is the faith that matters between Sundays. This is the faith the world sees, and it preaches a sermon that is louder than any from a pulpit.
We believe God calls each of us to service, whether at a paying job, at home with a family, or in volunteer pursuits. If you would like some guidance concerning what is a valid "call" from God, use these four questions:
1. Is it something God wants to have done?
2. Does it match and challenge your particular gifts?
3. Is it work that you find internally meaningful?
4. Finally, do others affirm you in what you are doing?
The sanctity of the common life -- it is one of the foundations of the Reformation. Remember, what you do is part and parcel of your ministry, no matter where you carry it out. This is the faith that matters between Sundays.
