The Days are Surely Coming (Reflections on Reformation Sunday 2025)

 

The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah. (Jeremiah 31:31)

Happy Reformation Sunday, everybody!

October is almost over and it’s time again to get out the red paraments and sing a rousing chorus of “A Mighty Fortress is Our God” as we celebrate that most Lutheran of holy days—the day in 1517 when Martin Luther nailed his 95 Theses to the door of the Castle Church in Wittenburg, Germany and kicked off one big, hairy hullabaloo with the Roman Catholic Church.[i]

I must confess I really love this celebration. It’s not because I’m thinking, “Ain’t we Lutherans the coolest ever,” but because I really need to be reminded of God’s loving, faithful grace. Plus, I love knowing that a little defiance can go a really long way—and a little defiance is in order these days, don’t you think?

Our lectionary starts us off with a that defiant, in-your-face-speak-truth-to-power guy, the prophet Jeremiah (Jeremiah 31:31-34). Jeremiah knows his country, Judah, has really screwed the pooch. He’s tried to warn the leadership that their neglect of the poor and reliance on military power is about to lead them to catastrophe. The phrase, “The days are surely coming” pops up about 14 times in this prophetic book, and it almost always comes before some prognostication of extremely bad stuff happening. When Jerry uses it in our Reformation Sunday reading, however, he’s letting his people know that—although really, really bad stuff is going to happen—on the other side of it will come a time when God will do something new with God’s repentant people. Things will be bleak for a while, but God in God’s mercy will surely revive the nation with a new and sustaining insight.

Martin Luther and Jeremiah had a lot in common. Both could be pretty strident, and neither of the two had any trouble calling out the leadership of their respective societies for incompetence and corruption. Subtlety was not their strong point. But both of these feisty guys saw possibilities ahead. Luther looked at a church in which popes and bishops were more concerned with secular power than they were with the souls and wellbeing of their flocks. He saw ignorant priests frightening and bribing the peasantry, and ignorant Christians who hoped their good deeds would make God love and forgive them. Luther understood we can’t do good works to make God love us. We do good works because God already loves us.

One of my favorite mental games is wondering what Luther or Jeremiah would tell us if they could come back and confront the American church today. We’ve been in a panic for a while about plummeting church attendance and the increasing number of “nones” in our society—people who claim to have no religious affiliation at all. We can always blame the changing times and say it’s the secular media or the internet or whatever. But we’d be remiss if we didn’t look at our own contribution to the emptying of the pews. Maybe Dr. Martin would take us to task for

·         Assuming Christianity is genetic, and all we have to do is get our kids baptized and confirmed with no need ever to explain to them our own spiritual path or relationship with our faith.

·         The church’s intolerance of the LGBTQ+ community.

·         Covering up clergy misdeeds instead of confronting them.

·         Christian nationalism, which is both unconstitutional and unbiblical.

·         Obsessing over made-up End Times scenarios which have no genuine biblical basis but have real world consequences for the environment and our foreign policy.

·         Emphasizing individual salvation or institutional survival but not nurturing discipleship.

Yeah, the church has to take a good share of the blame for her own demise. We’ve been guilty of all of this.

BUT! The days are surely coming when God will do a new thing, and a new church will emerge. Dr. Martin would remind us, ecclesia semper reformand est—the church is always reforming. The days are surely coming when we can get along without huge, money-devouring buildings. The church’s real estate holdings can be used to start new missions. We can form new, smaller communities led by dedicated bi-vocational pastors who won’t require expensive salary and benefit packages. We can place our emphasis on the way these communities work to heal their neighborhoods, and we can see the Gospel as Christ’s inspiration instead of the church’s dogma. These changes might sound far-fetched, but they are already happening[ii].

As the spirit of God’s love, forgiveness and amazing grace becomes real to us, we’ll see more and more collaborations between Christian denominations and between Christians and non-Christians. I believe the days are surely coming when a new, younger generation of Christians will take the reins and start shaking things up. I hope they would be inspired by that radical, counter-cultural rabble rouser, Martin Luther, who was himself inspired by that radical, counter-cultural rabble rouser, Jesus Christ. Yes, the next few years will be a little rocky, but the days are surely coming when we will see a new reformation inspired by scripture, faith, and God’s magnificent grace.

Hang in there, and let the peace of God which  passes our understanding keep your heart and mind in Christ Jesus. Oh! And come back and see me again!

---

[i] Actually, it is now doubtful that the posting of the 95 Theses was done by Luther himself. October 31 seems like a good day to post a controversial announcement in a Catholic Christian community as it’s Halloween—the day before All Saints Day—and many folks n Wittenburg might’ve gone to the Castle Church to make confession so they could receive communion at the All Saints mass the next day. The church door was like the town bulletin board, so folks would be likely to see Luther’s proposals. Nevertheless, all we know for sure is that it was around October 31, 1517 that Luther sent a copy of the Theses to Archbishop Albert of Mainz, possibly not suspecting the archbishop was in on the whole “get-out-of-Hell-free” indulgence scam himself.

[ii] Check out this cool video about a Lutheran Church in Minneapolis.

Wear 'Em Down (Reflections on Pentecost 19, Year C 2025)

 

“And will not God grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long in helping them? I tell you, he will quickly grant justice to them. And yet, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?” (Luke 18:7-8)

We talk a lot about justice lately. You can’t turn on broadcast TV in the United States without seeing commercials for law firms, most of whom would qualify for the moniker of “ambulance chasers.” You’ve heard them. They all go something like this:

“Injured? We’ll get you justice and a HUGE CASH SETTLEMENT!! Just call the law offices of Wiedluff, Toscroom, and Goode. We’ll sue ‘em down to their boxer shorts and get you the BIGGEST PAYOUT the law allows.”

I have to wonder what is more important to these TV lawyers—justice or money?            

Of course, any settlement depends on the opinion of a judge. Jesus suggests in the parable assigned for our Gospel Lesson for Pentecost 19 Year C (Luke 18:1-8) that there may have been some judges in his day who weren’t exactly on the up and up. In fact, the judge in his story admits to having no fear of God or respect for anyone (v.4). Sound familiar? I guess some things never change.

Naturally, we’d love to believe that every jurist who has donned the black robe will be a paragon of wisdom, logic, fairness, and impartiality. Nevertheless, I’ve heard it said by more than one Philadelphian that, since our judges are elected and reliant on the goodwill of certain unions or other monied interests, it’s entirely possible their judgements might be a trifle skewed in favor of one party over another[i]. Am I out of line here?

Doubting the proclivities of the folks in our legal system has a real downside. It’s pretty easy to get jaundiced, to believe the game is rigged against us, and simply let ourselves sink into the lake of hopelessness and drown without even trying to swim. But the little widow lady in Jesus’ story isn’t going to go under quite so easily. She knows the judge who hears her case is bent like an Amish pretzel, but she’s not going to let him get away with injustice. No sir. She’s going to raise holy hell until this guy caves and does the right thing. In the end, it turns out she has more power than he does. Jesus says nothing about the merits of her case. He praises her for her persistence.

And this is how our Lord tells us to pray—with persistence. I can understand why people would ask what the point of prayer is. After all, if God is going to do what God does anyway, why bother? But there’s power always in our prayers. We can pray prayers of praise, prayers of intercession for our fellow saints, and prayers of petition for our own needs, fears, wants, and whatever. Our prayers may not change God, but they will always change us. Prayer is the necessary medicine for the sickness of cynicism and disillusionment. To be in constant prayer is to affect your whole view of the world and your outlook on life. It changes you.

Prayers of praise keep us focused on how good God has already been to us. In The Small Catechism, Martin Luther included a morning blessing, an evening blessing, and a table blessing, instructing the faithful to begin and end each day with a word of thanks, and to give praise to God for every meal. The discipline of praise reminds us that we’re not as totally screwed as we may think we are. In fact, the crappiest day we’ll ever spend on this earth will be full of more blessings than we can count. If you’re reading this and you’re not in Gaza right now, you’re having a pretty blessed day. If you’re not living on the street, you’re doing pretty okay. If you turned on your tap this morning and drinkable water came out, you’re ahead of the game. As we say in the consecration of the mass:

It is indeed right, our duty and our joy that we should at all times and in all places give thanks and praise to you, Almighty Father, through our Savior Jesus Christ[ii].

Our prayers for others (prayers of intercession) are equally essential. When our friend gets a cancer diagnosis, our prayers for their healing keep their circumstances before us. We continually practice empathy and compassion, and such empathy and compassion will lead us to action. Whether our prayers for a loved one encourage us to visit them or undertake some task they can’t do for themselves, or if our prayers for peace on earth lead us to social action, volunteerism, or protest, the prayers we pray have an effect.

Our personal prayers before God, the longings and pleadings of our hearts, aren’t just a matter of bathing in our own depression and disappointment. Prayer is our guide. It’s our hope. If hope is dead, faith will follow it to the grave. Like the widow in the parable, we are called to “pray without ceasing.[iii]” Even if one avenue appears to be closed, our constant prayer of hope will lead us down another path. Despair is not an option.

We pray our earthly judges will all be fair and impartial and seek that which is best for all concerned. We can be thankful that our Heavenly Judge is merciful and always partial to the needs of his children.

God bless you for reading this week. Please leave me a comment if you are so inclined—and keep praying even if you’re not inclined!

---

[i] Don’t even get me started on the United States Supreme Court, of which six of the nine members have been the darlings of the ultra-conservative Federalist Society.

[ii] From Evangelical Lutheran Worship (Minneapolis; Augsburg Fortress, 2006)

[iii] See 1 Thessalonians 5:15-18.

Faith Enough! (Reflections on Pentecost 17, Year c 2025 and the Feast of St. Francis)

 

5 The apostles said to the Lord, “Increase our faith!” 6 The Lord replied, “If you had faith the size of a[a] mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you. 7 “Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, ‘Come here at once and take your place at the table’? 8 Would you not rather say to him, ‘Prepare supper for me; put on your apron and serve me while I eat and drink; later you may eat and drink’? 9 Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded? 10 So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, ‘We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!’ ” (Luke 17:5-10)

Every time I read this passage, I think of my old boss at the shoe store where I worked one summer when I was an undergraduate. Whenever one of the employees would whine, “Hey Boss! Can I take my break?” He’d snarl back, “I gave you a break when I hired you.”

The message is pretty clear. You don’t get any special treatment or extra pay for doing what you’re supposed to be doing anyway. When the apostles ask Jesus for more faith, he’s quick to let them know they already have enough to get the job done. Before they start asking for an increase, they should take a look at the blessings from God they currently possess.

St. Francis of Assisi, whose feast day is celebrated on October 4[i] by Christians of many denominations, is a great example of taking a mustard seed’s worth of faith and using it to change the course of Christian history. This guy is probably the most popular canonized saint in history next to Saint Nicolas (It’s hard to beat Santa!). As a young man Francis had everything going for him. He came from a rich family and was in line to inherit his dad’s lucrative commercial silk business. But, to his old man’s great displeasure, Francis gave up the family money and the prospect of becoming a big shot silk merchant and embarked on a life in service to the gospel without a penny to his name. He became a beggar so he could minister to other beggars, which, if you ask me, would require a heck of a lot more faith than I can boast of.

But Francis did what he thought he ought to do—live a life in imitation of Jesus Christ. Jesus didn’t have a bank account either. Jesus hung out with the poor and the sick, so Francis did the same. Jesus trusted in the Father’s goodness, and so did Francis. The result was that Christians were attracted to the poor missionary’s Christ-like simplicity and sincerity. Men and women joined the religious order Francis created, wanting nothing but to be faithful servants who made others fall in love with the goodness of God.

Francis never criticized the wealth and power of the church, but neither did he share in those things. He was no Joel Osteen or Franklin Graham. Although his fame spread throughout his lifetime, he continued to live in poverty, finding joy in the word of God and the world God had made, being the “worthless slave” who did only what he ought to have done.

Because of his love for the earth and all living things, Francis is known as the patron saint of animals, and it’s become traditional to bless animals on his feast day (or, in some cases, on the Sunday which falls closest to his feast day). I don’t know about you, but I have a great love of animals (even though I may eat some of them). Being a city boy, I’m particularly fond of dogs, cats, and horses (although horses, as a general rule, do not make the most practical domestic pets as they take up a good deal of space, eat a lot, and are notoriously difficult to housebreak). Of course, farm animals like pigs, chickens, cows, and mules certainly have their charm, and many folks find joy in the company of rodents, birds, fish, and reptiles. If you happen to share your living space with a domestic pet, you’re certainly aware of how much pleasure their company can give you. I like to think that an adoring pair of eyes and a wagging tail greeting you as you return home from a trip of any duration will be a reminder of God’s unconditional love. I hope that we, like Francis, would feel the wonder and the mystery of God in all living things—plant or animal—about us, and grow in true love, respect, and admiration for the blessed gift of this earth.

Some years ago, a neighbor of mine experienced one of those tiny, faith-affirming miracles which, in honor of St. Francis, I’d like to share with you. My neighbor’s name is Francisco, the Spanish form of Francis. He’s retired and, as such, likes to play a lot of golf. One day he was out on the links and began to feel unexpectedly fatigued. Although he hated to leave the green without completing all eighteen holes, he felt he’d better go home and lie down. His wife was at work, so he stretched out on the sofa feeling strangely crappy. No sooner had he reached this position of repose than his little Yorkshire terrier Sasha jumped on his chest and began licking his face, preventing him from going to sleep. Francisco didn’t know why he felt so lousy, but, apparently, Sasha did. Francisco sat up, feeling short of breath and sweaty. Being a sensible man, he deduced he might be having a heart attack. He grabbed his phone and called 911. The paramedics arrived a few minutes later and, just as Francisco opened the door for them, he coded and collapsed on the floor. The paramedics revived him, took him to hospital, and he’s been pretty okay ever since.

Sasha, alas, has since gone on to his Doggie Reward, but this caring interaction between human and animal serves for me as a reminder that the Spirit of God is in all things around us—the sky, the trees, the clouds, flowers, and our little “fur babies” who bring us so much joy. God is with us and so abundantly good to us. Why would we need to ask for more?

Good and gracious God, today we give you thanks for the animals who share our lives and have done so in the past. We thank you for the joy and comfort they have given us. We humbly ask you to protect them from illness and injury and grant them long, happy lives. May they, through our hands, feel the love you have for all you have created, and may we, through their selfless love and companionship, be ever reminded of your constant presence, love, and care for us. We ask this in Jesus’ name. Amen.

---

[i] Saints’ days are often assigned on the day of the individual’s death. In St. Francis’ case this was in the year 1226.