Always Reforming

(Scriptures:       Job 42:1-17, Hebrews 7:23-28, Mark 10:46-52)

 

Today is Reformation Sunday.  Reformation Sunday is held on the last Sunday of October, in commemoration of October 31, 1517, the date 495 years ago when Martin Luther, then an Augustinian monk, nailed a list of 95 discussion points, or theses, to the door of the Castle Church in Wittenburg, Germany.  It’s not that Luther had anything against that particular church; Luther lived and taught in Wittenburg, the Castle Church was in a well-travelled area, and posting something there would assure that lots of people got to see it.  Nowadays Luther probably would start a blog, but 495 years ago, of course, he had to go with the technology available at the time.  The full title of Luther’s document was, in Latin, Disputatio pro declaratione virtutis indulgentiarum .  (You can tell I don’t use Latin very much.)  Indulgencies were promises from church authorities on that one’s sins, or that of a designated family member, would be forgiven, and that one’s time in purgatory would thereby be reduced.   One could also gain an indulgence for visiting the relics of a departed saint.  Sales of indulgences were fundraisers for the church, especially for St Peter’s in Rome.  Martin Luther was outraged at the church selling for money the assurances of pardon which were a free gift from God.   Luther had no desire to break from the Roman Catholic church; he only wanted to start a discussion about various practices which he found offensive to his conscience.   But, as often happens, emotions ran high on all sides; the Roman hierarchy was offended at Luther’s questioning of what had been quite a successful fund-raising technique, and dug in their heels.  Luther likewise dug in his heels.  Without going into tedious detail, suffice to say that it wasn’t long before Luther and the Roman hierarchy were hurling anathemas at one another, and Luther was ultimately excommunicated.   Of course, Luther’s teachings continue in the modern-day Evangelical Lutheran Church of America, the Missouri and Wisconsin synods of the Lutheran Church, and I’m sure other expressions of Lutheranism that I can’t think of just now.

While the timing of Reformation Sunday on the church calendar is focused on Luther, there was a lot of theological ferment going on at the time, with lots of dissenting views being expressed.  Our first hymn was written by John Calvin, the Swiss reformer whose theology informs the Presbyterian Church.   Other reformers were Ulrich Zwingli, whose theology informed the German Reformed church, including our congregation.  In short, many theologians felt the Roman church of their day was corrupt, and needed to change – but they had all manner of ideas about what a renewed Roman Catholic church would look like.   In response, the Roman Catholic Church ultimately instituted its own internal reform, which is called the Counter-Reformation. 

Our Gospel reading for this morning is about Jesus’ healing of blind Bartimaeus.  It may seem like a stretch to get from Bartimaeus to Martin Luther, but I’d like to try to make a connection anyway.  Remember that Jesus and his disciples are on the way to Jerusalem.  Today’s reading begins with Jesus and his disciples entering Jericho – and then leaving Jericho.  We’re not given any direct information about what took place there, except that along with Jesus and his disciples were a large crowd – so they must have done something to get their attention – and in a favorable way too, as Jesus and the disciples weren’t being run out of town.   So it would appear they’d led a successful mission in Jericho, and now they – Jesus, the disciples, and the crowd – were departing for Jerusalem.

From Jericho to Jerusalem was 18 miles….and to those traveling, it probably felt like 18 miles straight up.  The road was steep – Jericho was in a valley 250 feet below sea level, while Jerusalem was 2500 feet above sea level.  When Scripture talks about Jesus and his disciples going up to Jerusalem, they literally were going up.  We’re also told that, besides being long and steep, this road was notorious for robbers -    remember that in Luke’s Gospel, the road from Jerusalem to Jericho was the setting of Jesus’ parable of the Good Samaritan.  So Jesus, the disciples, and a large crowd were not only on a long, steep hike up to Jerusalem, but their long steep hike went through what we’d call a bad neighborhood.   And so, if you or I were walking through what we’d consider an iffy neighborhood, we’d probably be vigilant about our surroundings, and try to get to our destination as expeditiously as possible.  The road from Jericho to Jerusalem wasn’t a place you’d go for a Sunday stroll, not a place to stop and smell the roses or enjoy the scenery, and as you walk, you probably won’t be humming to yourself “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood.” 

As they’re trudging up to Jerusalem, sure enough, they hear a voice shouting from the side of the road.  They’re immediately on guard – “oh, boy, here we go….” they think, but thank goodness, it’s not a robber.  It’s just a beggar, poor blind Bartimaeus, the son of Timaeus.   Somehow despite being blind, he gathered that Jesus was coming, and started hollering out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”  The crowd – and probably the disciples – tell him “Shut up!  Put a sock in it!”  But Bartimaeus isn’t passing up this opportunity.  “Son of David, have mercy on me!” Bartimaeus cries.  And though everyone else is trying to hurry Jesus along, Jesus stops in his tracks and says, “Call him here.”  The crowd tells him – “Ok, Bart, you have your chance, Jesus is calling you.”  He throws off his cloak – I love that detail – and jumps up and makes his way to Jesus.  Jesus asks, “What do you want me to do for you?”  Bartimaeus says, “My teacher, let me see again.”  Jesus says to Bartimaeus, “Go in peace, your faith has made you well.”  We’re told that Bartimaeus immediately regained his sight and – notably – that he followed Jesus on the way.

In reading the Gospel accounts, I sometimes invite us to see where we find ourselves in the story.  On other Sundays, I might find some other points of entry, but on this Reformation Sunday, perhaps we can see the reformers – the Martin Luthers, John Calvins, Ulrich Zwinglis, and all those who have spoken out for change – as being like Bartimaeus on the side of the road, making known those ways in which the church has let them down, the ways they feel alienated from, even abandoned by the community of faith.  The crowd and the disciples – representing the church establishment – respond to the reformers’ agitation as they did to blind Bartimaeus – they try to shut Bartimaeus up.   “Hey Luther, hey Calvin, hey Zwingli, hey Melancthon and Ursinus, shut up!  Put a sock in it!”  Like those other travelers on the Jericho road, the priest and levite from Jesus’ parable, they are absorbed with their own concerns and want to pass by on the other side.  But not Jesus.  Jesus inconveniently brings the procession to a halt and asks, “What do you want me to do for you?”  And when Jesus, rather than the crowd, have their way, the church listens rather than ignores.  When Jesus, rather than the crowd, the church responds in new ways.  Those who were formerly alienated are now included, and they respond by joining the church in traveling in the way of Jesus.  And when Bartimaeus, now healed, is among the followers of Jesus, the group is different than it was before, different because of the presence of Bartimaeus.

One of the mottos of the Reformation was “Ecclesia semper reformanda” – a church always to be reformed, a church always in the process of reforming.  Our last two hymns come from this continuing reformation.  For the life of the church is a pilgrimage, and the spiritual sisters and brothers of Bartimaeus are always on the side of the road, trying to get our attention, crying out for healing.  As the saying goes, when our plans are interrupted, very often God can be found in the interruptions.  Gospel – good news – is often what happens when our plans get interrupted.  The writer of the words of our third hymn, James Russell Lowell, was a poet who used his poetry, among other ways, to support the abolition of slavery.   The words of our final hymn, God of Grace and God of Glory, were written by the Rev. Harry Emerson Fosdick, among the leading progressive pastors of his day, for the dedication of the Riverside Church in New York City.    The Riverside Church is a leading interdenominational church affiliated with several Protestant conditions, including the United Church of Christ - sort of like if all five congregations of the Bridesburg Council of Churches were merged into one large congregation, except the Riverside church would have about 10 times as many members as our five churches combined.  So the Reformation is not only something that happened almost 500 years ago, but continues to this day.  As the spiritual sisters and brothers of Bartimaeus cry from the side of the road, some in the church want to pass by on the other side, while others feel called by Jesus to respond.

I included a diagram – from an old US News and World Report article on religion – that shows the denominations that have come out of these moments when some feel called to stay where they are while others feel called to follow God in a new direction.  Consider that if we were to extend the diagram further to the left, Christianity itself would be shown as a branch coming off Judaism.  And yes, at the other end of the diagram, the United Church of Christ is on there, down toward the bottom.  You’ll notice that the UCC is one of very few places in which two different strands from the tradition come together.  Bringing together disparate traditions seems to be God’s special vocations for the UCC.  Because, after all, Jesus’ prayer for his disciples is that they – that we – would all be one.  The Christian Church is a big dysfunctional family, but a family nonetheless.  In the Apostles Creed, we say, among other things, “I believe in the Holy Catholic Church.”  In this case, Catholic means “universal” – the big-C great church, the universal church of which all our individual churches are a part.   

When [Bartimaeus] learned that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout out and say, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”  Many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me.  Jesus stood still and said, “Call him here.” When our plans are interrupted, often God can be found in the interruptions.  Gospel – good news – is often what happens when our plans are interrupted.   On this Reformation Sunday, I’d ask us to look at the interruptions to our plans, not with annoyance, but with eyes of faith to see what message God may have for us in the interruptions.  May our ears be open to hear the call of Bartimaeus that we encounter in our pilgrimage, and may God give us grace to respond in love.  Amen.