From the Scrolls: Why Luther Still Matters

When we look back over the past five hundred years in the West, it’s easy to wonder at the battles between Catholics and Protestants that dominated the landscape. From our perch of plurality, the idea of Christians killing other Christians seems absurd. (For many of us the idea of killing over ANY religion – my story of God is better than your story of God – is more than absurd, it’s insane.) For centuries, however, especially in places like England (The battles continue in Ireland to this day), Catholics and Protestants fought a vicious, bloody battle that see-sawed through a long line of Monarchial reigns and caused the deaths of tens of thousands of innocents.

The question then, is why it still matters. What importance does Martin Luther, the figure at the heart of the Catholic/Protestant split, hold in a time where a Lutheran church and a Catholic church can be found within two blocks of one another? And what does it matter for those of us who aren’t particularly religious, except to make the point that “fighting over religion is stupid.”

Protestants, of course, lionize Martin Luther, even when he is criticized. (His anti-Semitism, for example, is often brushed aside.) But they regard him for his religious ideas, for his theology that forms the bedrock of their faith. What we miss when we discuss Luther’s revolution, however, is not only did he crack the Catholic Empire with his theology of “every man a priest,” he did so much more. The issue regarding diversity of opinion was seriously challenged for the first time. New feelings of nationhood came into effect. Our attitudes regarding work, art, and human failings all changed. We saw the first effect of mass media. And two centuries later the Protestant revolution would twin with its secular cousin in the Enlightenment and form the basis for the concept of Western Democracy.

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So who was Martin Luther? Well, he was a miner’s son from Saxony, a devout monk and professor of theology at Wittenburg. For seven years he had wrestled with his faith, agonizing about the state of his soul in his quest for purity. When the sale of indulgences, a kind of certified check drawn by the pope on the “treasury of merit accumulated by the saints”, became a regular fundraising practice of the church, Luther was abashed and angry. (A person could buy an indulgence to lessen the term of a person, either themselves or a friend, in Purgatory.) For Luther, the whole concept of forgiveness rested on grace. This was not a trivial issue for him, but the core of the Gospel. How could true penance be bought in the open market? He was thirty-four years old when he posted his 95 theses on the door of All Saints’ church at Wittenberg, though at the time it was hardly a rebellious act. (The equivalent today would be posting a provocative article in a scholarly journal.)

What happened, however, changed the course of history. Word of his ideas spread like wildfire through Germany and beyond through pamphlets. The printing process had advanced enough to allow thousands upon thousands of Luther’s arguments to be disseminated and absorbed by the masses. Politically, Germany had been looking to break free from the papacy, and so the German princes backed Luther. What happened next, of course, is a matter of history. Later, Luther himself would persecute the early Anabaptists, who had some radical ideas of their own.

The Protestant Reformation was as much about politics as it was about theology, but in the end, it was the power of an idea that made the difference. Luther changed the common narrative. For tens of thousands living under a hierarchical and oppressive rule, particularly for the peasants, Luther’s greatest accomplishment was giving them a different story. A story that said they mattered as individuals. That God loved them despite their low station. And that they did not need to follow the dictates of corrupt, power hungry officials to be accepted by God.

When we track history, we often track individuals. Great figures that somehow stand out in their time. But usually, it isn’t the person so much as it is the idea that brings change. Martin Luther still matters because he reminds us that our struggles are often shared. That the pain we experience (in this case, it was his desire to worship devoutly and sincerely) is usually felt by those around us. And that our choice of narrative is perhaps the greatest decision we will ever make.

Who are you? What story have you chosen to live by? Are you a pawn in the masses, a person with no voice and no importance? Is your value minimal, or can you accept a new narrative that sings with your importance? Martin Luther believed that you and I were important. That we were born free, free to pursue our passions and purposes. Free to worship and live without waiting for our “betters” to tell us what to think or intercede for us. (“Every Christian is a free lord, subject to none.”) Luther believed that and changed the world. Five hundred years later he remains an important figure, not only for his accomplishments, but for the questions he asked. Questions we’d do well to answer.

-Steve

Why Have Christians Abandoned Faith?

Faith is belief in absolutes. Not absolute belief.

The discussion was good natured, but also predictable. At first it was simply a theological question about the "rewards for the righteous in the Old Testament", but as it progressed it became more than that. As more people entered the discussion I saw again and again this idea of what a Christian "gets" for their "righteousness." After a while I logged off and stepped out of the debate.

It always strikes me how people who claim to be studying the Bible become puzzled and then upset when you raise questions for which they have no answers. Or when the answers they give are recycled from a Bible study they took ten years ago and don't make sense. Or worse, when the answers are part of the church creed, and therefore accepted because, well, they're part of the creed. There is this deep sense within much of the church that if you don't know the answer, you aren't "studying" enough. That to be a Christian is to be able to defend what you believe in rational form. The irony is that too often the church settles for the appearance of logic and reason, producing sound bites on talk shows as if the world must see how reasonable Christianity actually is, without considering the essence of faith. And in so doing, they preach a Wal-mart Christianity that is more interested in rewards than service. More interested in proof than questions. And more interested in assurances than doubt. In the end, what we have done is to create a religion that no longer needs faith. Here in the West, Christians have abandoned faith, and it's time to bring it back.

The definition of faith is this: belief that is not based on proof, and in Scripture we find this definition: belief in things unseen. In other words, faith is an assumption, a hopeful one perhaps, but an assumption nonetheless about what will happen or what has happened. Through the centuries, we have heard the expression "blind faith", implying that someone "believes without true understanding, perception, or discrimination."

This is a ridiculous statement, because blind faith is impossible. Often it is addressed towards people who follow others without questions. This has nothing to do with faith, blind or otherwise, and everything to do with ignorance and laziness and selfishness. It is an offense to the very idea of faith that this expression exists. And yet somehow, this expression actually fits into far too many descriptions of today's Christians simply because they are either afraid or unwilling to examine what they actually believe.

The saddest part is that so many of my fellow Christians are sincere, loving people, who have bought into the lie that faith must be blind or it is not faith at all.

Which begs the question that haunts me as I enter discussion after discussion with others in the church...

Why have Christians abandoned faith? Why have so many churchgoers swallowed the lie that what they believe must absolutely be true, or it is not Truth?

Think of the examples from our everyday life. It is hard to trust someone who is unwilling to concede that they may possibly be wrong, isn't it? So why then, do we allow our pastors and leaders in the church speak as though they are not only the mouthpiece of God, but God Himself? It is a hard thing, its true, but if one speaks with absolute surety of their views, we know two things. First, they are wrong, because no one is absolutely right about everything. And secondly, if they did know everything, it would be folly for us not to worship them, because, in essence, they are claiming to be God.

Ignorance is an easy tool, especially in a commoditized church that too often seems more interested in market share than people. Especially at the top of the food chain. It isn't that church leaders are not sincere; so much as, they believe that ignorance is okay among those who follow them. This is not unusual. For example, as much as we like to claim that our democracies are about equality, there is little real evidence of that. The rich rule the country. The rich countries rule the poor ones. It has always been such and I imagine it will always be. However, there is a distinct odour to that kind of thinking when it invades the church, this idea that "we know better than you do."

It also reveals something else at work in our belief patterns, the psychological dependence on these "emotional pillars." What would you say if I told you that the Bible contained some errors? How would your faith respond if I told you that the "Word of God" as John refers to in John 1:1 is not the Bible? (The Greek word is 'logos' not 'graphe' or 'writings', which only occur a couple of times. John was referring to the "ultimate good", a Greek philosophy his readers would understand, ala; Jesus was the 'ultimate good.') The question is important, because in too many of today's Protestants, there is a tendency to idolize Scripture, and instead of broadening our faith, we narrow it down and limit it to a single expression.

I understand much of this, coming from my own background as a Pentecostal pastor, but upon closer examination, it makes no sense. How can we, as Christians, be dogmatic about a story about a virgin birth and people raised from the dead?! Of course it takes faith! Big, open faith that says we accept this but understand that human error and mistakes also happen. How can we become so nasty about doctrinal differences when we believe the Son of God was born as a carpenter, announced by angels, performed many miracles, and had about 120 followers when he died?! Whatever causes us to believe it, it certainly isn't rationalism. And if that is the case, perhaps we need to scale back our assurances and adopt an attitude of humble and open faith. One that accepts we might be wrong. It doesn't mean we need to scale back our convictions, just the arrogance.

The idea of grace is that God moved first, so we have no claim to make for our belief systems. If that is what we believe, than shouldn't we be a bit more open towards people who do not agree with us? If God moved for us, isn't it His job to move for them?

At some point, we need to stop acting as if we earned our way into Christianity, and realize that faith is not about defending God, but loving others. Perhaps then, we will have better things to discuss than how many rewards we get because of our "righteousness."

-Steve