These reconstructed doors commemorate Martin Luther's 95 Theses.
Castle Church, Wittenberg, Germany
On Sunday, I called for a new Reformation. There's a lot of hubris in that call. I admit it. Who an I to call for a new Reformation? Then again, who was Martin Luther? Read on to learn more about this new Reformation.
Sermon
Good morning. Last Sunday, I told you that I had trouble
coming up with a sermon title. But I knew, weeks ago, maybe even months ago,
that I would be calling for a new Reformation this morning. In a sense, this is
really arrogant, on my part; the title is full of hubris.
Who am I to call for a new Reformation?
I’ve only been a pastor for two years. I serve at a small
church in the Mon Valley. Heck, I’m not even your installed pastor. I’m just a
temp!
This call should come from an experienced pastor, at a big
church—maybe in Mt. Lebanon or Wexford or somewhere in Pittsburgh. Or maybe it
should come from a church in New York or Los Angeles or Washington,
D.C.—somewhere that it will be heard by hundreds or even thousands of
people—not here in Rostraver Township, where maybe sixty or seventy people will
hear it. And there again, you hear my ego seeping out; as if any message that I
offer needs to be heard by the whole world.
Who am I to call for a new Reformation?
Then again, who was Martin Luther?
Lucas Cranach, the elder, Martin Luther
In 1517, Luther was simply an obscure German monk. He was a
theology professor at the University of Wittenberg. The university was founded
in 1502; it was very new. This wasn’t one of the great intellectual capitals of
Europe, and Luther hadn’t published anything that was particularly noteworthy.
Wittenberg wasn’t the place and Luther wasn’t the person who ought to have
started the Reformation—one of the most important events in western history—nor
did Luther intend to do so.
On October 31st, 1517, Luther posted a list of 95
disputations, 95 theses, for his theology students to discuss. It is said that
he nailed this list to the door of the Castle Church in Wittenberg. When we
hear this story five hundred years later, it sounds like something bold,
something earth-shattering. It wasn’t.
Castle Church, Wittenberg
All of the classes at Wittenberg University were taught at
the Castle Church. Professors posted notices for students on that door. It was
routine. Martin Luther didn’t do anything out of the ordinary that day. He was
a relatively unknown theology professor, he was about to turn 34, and he was
preparing for class.
That same day, Luther also wrote a letter to his bishop,
opposing the sale of indulgences. He included a copy of the 95 Theses with that
letter. That started a chain of events that launched the Reformation. Over the
next three years, Luther would be charged with heresy, and then excommunicated
from the Roman Catholic Church.
A few months before he was excommunicated, Luther published
one of his most famous works: On the
Freedom of a Christian. This treatise is grounded in this morning’s reading
from the Gospel of John, in which Jesus states, “if the Son makes
you free, you will be free indeed.”
Luther asserts that this freedom is
freedom from sin and death, and makes two propositions that seem to contradict
one another:
A Christian is a
perfectly free lord of all, subject to none.
A Christian is a
perfectly dutiful servant of all, subject to all.[1]
This freedom comes from
righteousness, which is not achieved through our good works, but through a
right relationship with Jesus.[2]
This is what Jesus means when he says, “if you continue in
my word, you are truly my disciples.” The Greek word that is translated as
“continue” can also be translated as “remain,” or even better, “abide.” That’s
the sense of the word and that’s why our next hymn is “Abide with Me.” It is
the enduring presence of the Lord that comes through a right relationship with
Jesus; “in Jesus, there is the possibility of intimate relationship with God.”[3]
Our other Gospel reading explains the basis for a right
relationship with God. This story is very important; it appears in the Gospels
of Matthew, Mark, and Luke. Jesus is asked which commandment is the greatest.
[Jesus]
said to him, “‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with
all your soul, and with all your mind.’ 38 This is
the greatest and first commandment. 39 And a second
is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ 40 On
these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.”
Jesus is saying that
every other commandment, instruction, or rule—every other bit of Scripture—is
based in those two commandments, love God and love your neighbor. That’s it.
And that’s what it means to live as disciples of Jesus Christ. Luther would
also say that all of our good works or deeds come out of that relationship;
good works are an outward sign of God’s grace in us, not something that you or
I can simply choose to do.
Luther began to develop these ideas before he published the
95 Theses, and he would continue to refine them all through the Reformation.
Central to Luther’s theology was that grace comes from God alone; it cannot be
earned. This is also what we believe as Presbyterians.
Castle Church and Wittenberg (old town), Germany
Luther wrote the 95 Theses in response to the sale of
indulgences, among other practices of the Roman Catholic Church. In the Middle
Ages, and even into the 1500s, the Catholic Church taught that there were
different kinds of sins, and after death, a person’s soul had to be purged of
those sins before going to Heaven. Even if a person lived a virtuous life, his
or her soul would have to spend time in a place called Purgatory. The number
and severity of the person’s sins would determine how long his or her soul
would remain in Purgatory before ascending into Paradise.
The amount of time a soul would remain in Purgatory could
be influenced by human actions. For instance, the family of a dead person could
commission a parish priest to say a mass for the dead person, and that would
reduce the time that soul spent in Purgatory. And if a man was rich and
powerful enough, he could purchase an indulgence for his sins. That is, by
making a large donation to the church, the local priest, by the authority of
the bishop, could tell that man that his soul wouldn’t have to stay in
Purgatory. The Roman Catholic Church claimed that it was not letting people
purchase forgiveness for their sins, only a reduced sentence in Purgatory.
Martin Luther cried foul!
Indulgences were nothing new, and Luther wasn’t the first person
to challenge indulgences. Theology students frequently debated the idea and
many theologians argued against indulgences, but the debates always stayed
within the university, and the debates were usually in Latin; lay people
couldn’t participate.
In the 1500s, the Catholic Church got much more aggressive
in the sale of indulgences. In 1506, Pope Julius II laid the foundation stone
for the new St. Peter’s Basilica. This would be one of the Pope’s palaces and
it would also include a grand tomb for Pope Julius. There had been another
basilica dedicated to St. Peter, but it was old and in disrepair. This was the
height of the Renaissance, and Pope Julius wanted a grand, new palace, built by
the greatest architects and decorated by the greatest artists of the day:
Michelangelo, Rafael, Leonardo da Vinci. Julius wanted to demonstrate the
power, the grandeur, and the majesty of the office of the pope; he wanted to
make St. Peter’s great again!
There was only one problem.
Money.
It was going to cost a large fortune to build St. Peter’s.
In 1516, the next pope, Pope Leo X, commissioned the sale of indulgences to pay
for all the new construction and artwork. In Thesis 86, Luther argued that the
pope ought to pay for this himself: “Again, since the pope’s income today is
larger than that of the wealthiest of wealthy men, why does he not build this
one church of St. Peter with his own money, rather than with the money of
indigent believers?”[4]
St. Peter's Basilica, Vatican City
Luther argued that the church was too caught up with the
things of the world; it had been corrupted by a desire to build grandiose
buildings, monuments to human power. What’s more, the church could compel the
people to finance these monuments. The church had become too much like the
world.
I think that’s still true today. I believe the Church has
become too much like the world outside. Our schedules are not driven by our
worship and our church life. Nor are they structured around loving our
neighbors. Church is a place where we come for an hour on Sunday. It competes
for our time with our children’s activities, work schedules, travel plans, and
our need for adequate sleep. Church competes with our desire to watch the
Steelers. And that certainly includes me.
We are slaves to sin and we are prisoners of our busy
lives. We choose to be busy for so many reasons. We want our children to be
happy so we spend all our time shuttling them from one activity to another.
Sometimes the activities are very expensive. And we want new cars, new clothes,
bigger houses, and lots of nice stuff to fill our homes. It’s expensive, so we
work more hours to support all the stuff and all the activities. We make
ourselves prisoners of the culture. We fail to live into the freedom that we
have as Christians. When we allow these things to structure our lives and our
priorities, we turn away from our relationship with Jesus.
To be set free from this self-imposed slavery, we must
repent from our busyness and abide in Jesus.
To be set free, here and
now, according to Jesus and according to the fourth evangelist, is to be free
to see that, in Jesus, God is here, present, offering a relationship that is
one of abiding love, provision, sustenance, nurture, and protection…because God
loves the world.[5]
This is what a new
Reformation means; it is living into the freedom of being a Christian. Abiding
in Jesus, the Word made flesh is freedom:
The kind of freedom that
is known only in relationship—with God and with your neighbor. A freedom from
loneliness and disconnection. A freedom from self-sufficiency and
self-reliance. A freedom from the pain of not belonging and not being known.
The commandments of Matthew remind us of the true meaning of John 8:31-32.[6]
This is the antidote to
our consumer culture in which we must always do more, be more, and buy more.
Martin Luther preached from this pulpit. Marienkirche, Wittenberg, Germany
A new Reformation doesn’t begin here in the pulpit, it
begins with each and every one of us—outside of the church. A new Reformation
begins when we orient our lives toward God, as Jesus taught us. Yes, that
starts with worship, but if we don’t live it outside of these walls, if we
don’t make a visible change for everyone to see, then we are not fully living
into Christ’s call to be the Church.
A new Reformation can begin anywhere, and it can begin in
the unlikeliest of places. It can begin in Wittenberg or it can begin in
Westmoreland County. From there, or from here, it can and must spread, and we
must be the ones to spread this new Reformation. Thanks be to God. Amen.
Benediction
Now, beloved, as you depart from this place, remember that
we are called to be the Church, the body of Christ in the world today. We are
called to go forth and be instruments of God’s love and peace and love and reconciliation.
Do not return evil for evil to any person, but know that we are all loved by
God, and that we are called to reflect that love to everyone we meet. Go forth
and be the salt of the earth and the light of the world. In the name of Jesus
Christ, our Lord, let all God’s children say, Amen!
[1]
Martin Luther. The Freedom of a Christian.
In Martin Luther: Selections from His
Writings. Ed. John Dillenberger, New York: Anchor Books (1962), p. 53.
[2]
Luther, p. 54.
[3]
Karoline Lewis. John: Fortress Biblical
Preaching Commentaries. Minneapolis: Fortress Press (2014), p. 118.
[4]
Luther, p. 499.
[5]
Lewis, p. 119.
[6]
Karoline Lewis, “Freedom and Obligation,” retrieved from: http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=4989
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