Happy 500th Anniversary!

Nearly 500 years ago, the young monk Martin Luther nailed his 95 Theses to a church door in Wittenberg, Germany, and kicked off the movement that would become the Protestant Reformation. The theological disputes that followed have been well-documented over the centuries, but what the Reformation meant for the church’s witness in the midst of hunger and poverty is often forgotten. In this series leading up to October 31, 2017, we have taken a deeper look at the Reformation’s importance for the church’s social ministry – and the important work to which people of faith are called by the gospel.

And now, the full list so far, with links to the previous posts:

10) “I believe that God has made me and all creatures; that He has given me my body and soul, eyes, ears, and all my members, my reason and all my senses, and still takes care of them. He also gives me clothing and shoes, food and drink, house and home, wife and children, land, animals, and all I have. He richly and daily provides me with all that I need to support this body and life.” (Small Catechism)

9) “Christians are to be taught that he who sees a needy man and passes him by, yet gives his money for indulgences, does not buy papal indulgences but God’s wrath.” (95 Theses, #45)

8) “According to this passage [Matthew 25:41-46] we are bound to each other in such a way that no one may forsake the other in his distress but is obliged to assist and help him as he himself would like to be helped.” (“Whether One May Flee a Deadly Plague”)

7) “Let us also be generous [as Abraham was], and let us open the door to poor brethren and receive them with a joyful countenance. If we are deceived now and then, well and good. In spite of this our good will is demonstrated to God, and the kind act…is not lost on Christ, in whose name we are generous. Hence just as we should not intentionally and knowingly support the idleness of slothful people, so, when we have been deceived, we should not give up this eagerness to do good to others.” (Lectures on Genesis)

6) “We should not tolerate but banish [beggars]; not in an unreasonable and tyrannical manner but rather with willing help so that we Christians shall allow no one to come into such poverty and need that he is afflicted and caused to go and cry out after bread.” (Andreas Bodenstein von Karlstadt, “There Should Be No Beggars among Christians”)

5) “We were in need before God and lacked God’s mercy. Hence, as our heavenly Father has in Christ freely come to our aid, we also ought to help our neighbor through our body and its works, and each one should become as it were a Christ to the other…” (Freedom of a Christian)

4) “God says, ‘I do not choose to come to you in my majesty and in the company of angels but in the guise of a poor beggar asking for bread…I want you to know that I am the one who is suffering hunger and thirst.” (Commentary on the Gospel of John)

3) “Many a person thinks he has God and everything he needs when he has money and property; in them he trusts and of them he boasts so stubbornly and securely that he cares for no one. Surely, such a man also has a god – mammon by name, that is money and possessions – on which he fixes his whole heart. It is the most common idol on earth.” (Large Catechism)

2) “But beware how you deal with the poor, of whom there are many now. If, when you meet a poor man who must live from hand to mouth, you act as if everyone must live by your favor…and arrogantly turn him away whom you ought to give aid…he will cry to heaven…Such a man’s sighs and cries will be no joking matter…for they will reach God, who watches over poor, sorrowful hearts, and he will not leave them unavenged.” (Large Catechism)

And, now, for the #1 quote from the Reformation:

1) “For the sacrament [of Holy Communion] has no blessing and significance unless love grows daily and so changes a person that he is made one with all others.”

This touching and poignant quote comes from Luther’s 1519 essay, “The Blessed Sacrament of the Holy and True Body of Christ,” reprinted in Timothy Lull’s superb collection, Martin Luther’s Basic Theological Writings. It highlights Luther’s profound understanding of the sacrament – and discloses the misinterpretations of the sacrament among many communities of faith today.

According to Luther, there are two requirements to take Holy Communion authentically. First, we must have an awareness of our total dependence on God’s grace and the belief that this grace is present in the bread and wine of the meal. Second, we must commit ourselves to sharing the burdens of the other people at the Table with us. Without both of these present, “the sacrament has no blessing and significance.”

What Does This Mean?

In reading this, I am reminded of a lecture I heard many years ago. Gustavo Gutierrez, one of the founders of Latin American liberation theology, spoke to us about Holy Communion. He noted the different ways the Gospel authors describe Jesus’ last supper with his disciples. In Matthew and Luke, Jesus offers the words that would come to form the basis for the sacrament and Words of Institution: “take and eat.” But in the Gospel of John, there is no institution. Instead, as Gutierrez pointed out, Jesus removes his garment and washes the disciples’ feet.

Historical accuracy aside, what Gutierrez was getting at was the link between the sacrament of the meal and the sacramental act of loving service. This is a link Luther, too, makes, though not by comparing the Gospel stories. Instead, Luther sees the sacrament as primarily relational, both vertically and horizontally. Vertically, Holy Communion reminds us of our utter dependence on God and provides for God’s sharing of grace with us. Horizontally, Holy Communion reminds us of the burdens we all share – spiritual, physical, emotional – and the commitment we must make to one another.

The sacrament is something of a conversation, perhaps. God speaks to us the word of grace through the elements; we express our dependence and repentance to God; and we each offer a word of commitment to the neighbor beside us at the Table. It is so much more than merely “God and me,” even though many folks have tried to characterize the sacrament as such.

What misinterpretations miss is the third presence within worship: the neighbor. For Luther, as for many before him, worship is not merely between God and me; the neighbor is a central part of what it means to worship. To worship is to participate in ritual that forms us for service in the world. It is not merely a “break” from everyday life, nor a private service to God. It is a formative event that renews, reconciles, and reinvigorates us to be, as Bishop Elizabeth Eaton has said, “church for the sake of the world.”

This is not all that new, even for the Reformation. As Luther describes earlier in this essay, early Christians understood the “agape meal” (the precursor to Communion) as a key part of their service of one another and the world. At it, members of the community would bring food to share, and those who were hungry or thirsty were filled at the Table. (We see evidence of this in Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians.)

An early Christian fresco of the agape feast, from the Catacombs of Saint Peter and Marcellinus, Rome.

The community gathered at the Table is a witness against all that has crucified Christ and continues to cause suffering today, and it is a testimony to the truth of God’s grace active in the world to end suffering. To take Communion is to become part of a community, to “share the misfortunes of the fellowship,” and to receive the gift of grace that empowers us to participate in God’s transformation of the world. And, again, this isn’t accidental or optional: “the sacrament has no blessing and significance” without this.

So, What?

As we celebrate the 500^th anniversary of the Protestant Reformation today, we would do well to remember that this seismic shift was not merely a theological disagreement about Heaven and Hell. It was a fundamental conflict about what the church is called to be. Luther’s great insight – if seemingly simple, if in many ways unoriginal – was that the church is called to be more than a mere institution. It is called to be a living sign of the grace of God in the world. If it is to have power, it must be the power given by God to confront injustice and evil. If it is to be present, it must be present as a refuge for all who suffer. If it is to have authority, it must speak the authoritative word of grace. If it is to be wealthy, it must find its treasures in the richness of reconciled community. If it is to last, it must be worth keeping around.

We’ll end this series with an “honorable mention” quote that comes from none other than former Lutheran Walter Rauschenbusch, the founder of the Social Gospel movement in the early 1900s. In a 1910 letter, he challenged the Lutheran churches in the United States to reclaim their reforming heritage and join the frontlines in the struggle for justice:

Let the Lutheran churches remember their own brave revolutionary beginnings and summon up the daring spirit of the youthful Luther in his noblest days, when he was the voice of his nation and its darling, and embodied in his big, heroic heart all the noblest aspirations after national unity, social justice, moral health, and religious sincerity.

Truly, a challenge that still cries out to us today.

Happy 500^th!

Nearly 500 years ago, the young monk Martin Luther nailed his 95 Theses to a church door in Wittenberg, Germany, and kicked off the movement that would become the Protestant Reformation. The theological disputes that followed have been well-documented over the centuries, but what the Reformation meant for the church’s witness in the midst of hunger and poverty is often forgotten. In this series leading up to October 31, 2017, we will take a deeper look at the Reformation’s importance for the church’s social ministry – and the important work to which people of faith are called by the gospel.

Today, our two quotes highlight Luther’s understanding of Jesus Christ. At first glance, they might seem contrary to each other. But as we’ll see below, they reveal Luther’s complex understanding. If  you are interested in learning more about Luther’s teachings below, keep an eye out for ELCA World Hunger’s 2018 Lenten study, “Faces of Christ,” coming soon!

Fun fact: The name “Lutheran” was first used in a derogatory way by Johann Eck in 1519 to describe the “heresy” of Luther’s teachings.

#5 – “We were in need before God and lacked God’s mercy. Hence, as our heavenly Father has in Christ freely come to our aid, we also ought to help our neighbor through our body and its works, and each one should become as it were a Christ to the other…”

#4 – “God says, ‘I do not choose to come to you in my majesty and in the company of angels but in the guise of a poor beggar asking for bread…I want you to know that I am the one who is suffering hunger and thirst.”

Quote #5 comes from Luther’s famous treatise, “The Freedom of a Christian” (also sometimes called “On Christian Liberty.”) The second comes from his commentary on the Gospel of John. Together, they present two different ways of understanding Jesus and our relationship to him. In the first, the Christian is meant to represent or reveal Christ to the neighbor. In the second, the neighbor in need – the one facing hunger or poverty – represents or reveals Christ to the Christian. Luther didn’t see a contradiction here, even though there seems to be a subtle, yet important, difference. Luther saw these representations as related.

What Does This Mean?

The two quotes reveal different sides of the relationship between Christ, the Christian, and the neighbor. Luther believed that Christians should imitate Jesus in service to their neighbors. In fact, he compared true Christians to “little Christs,” acting out of love in service to their neighbors. Second, Luther believed that Christ was revealed in the neighbor, especially the most vulnerable neighbors – those facing poverty, disease, or hunger. Christians are called to both “be” like Christ and to look for Christ in others.

The first aspect reaches back to a previous blog in this series, where we saw that authentic Christian freedom is freedom for service of the neighbor. There is a reciprocity expected of people saved by grace: as we have been saved by God’s grace, so, too, are we to act with mercy, love, and justice toward our neighbors, without thought to their merit. In this way, Luther believed, Christians are called to use Christ as the model in their relationships with neighbors. What is Christ like? Merciful, gracious, bold in service, selfless, and so on. The qualities Christ embodied in his action on behalf of humanity are the qualities Christians are to embody in their service of one another.

Of course, there is no sense in Luther that this is going to be a perfect representation. It’s not meant to be. Grace saves us, but it doesn’t make us perfect. But the hope is that by using our freedom in this way, we can reflect God working in and through us. This isn’t a saving act, and we have to keep that in mind. It isn’t about saving our neighbors. Christians aren’t “heroines.” But we are meant to be mirrors, reflecting the grace that animates our world and works good through us. By imitating Christ, we participate in the revelation of grace in our world.

On the other hand, Christians are called not just to reflect God’s grace but also to be on the look out for it. Luther had an honest view of the world. Certainly, there is sin and evil to confront and dismantle when possible. But the world was also filled with grace and marked by the work of God. Anticipating more modern perspectives on Christian service, Luther saw the neighbor not merely as the object of a Christian’s good works but also as a revelation of Christ in the world. As much as Christians are called to “love and serve” the neighbor, so too, are they called to see the face of Christ within the neighbor.

This was particularly true of the neighbor in need. As his commentary on John suggests, Luther believed that, since God chose to come “in the guise of a poor beggar” in the incarnation, God continues to be revealed wherever people are in need.

In one of his lesser-known Christmas sermons, Luther captures this in an allegory of Jesus in the manger:

But what it is to find Christ in such poverty, and what his swaddling clothes and manger signify, are explained in the previous Gospel; that his poverty teaches how we should find him in our neighbors, the lowliest and the most needy; [and] that in actual life we should incline to the needy…

This is a striking step away from earlier interpretations in Christianity, which portrayed people in need merely as objects of Christian charity. (I’m thinking of you, Shepherd of Hermas.) Instead, what we find in Luther’s writings is the belief that Christians seek Christ among their neighbors, especially in their moments of need.

So, what?

Luther’s twinned understanding of Christ offers some insights to us today. Clearly, there is a distinct call to imitate Christ in service to the neighbor. Following Christ means more than imitating him in private devotion to God; it means taking Christ as the model for our relationships with our neighbors.

More than this, though, as Christians pursue service and love of neighbor, we are likewise called to see our neighbors as participants in the revelation of God. This is very different from approaching service as if the ones doing the service are the ones “bringing God” to people in need. Rather, for Luther, it is the neighbor in need who can reveal Christ to the one doing the service.

This speaks to the model of accompaniment that shapes the ministries of ELCA World Hunger. In accompanying our neighbors, we remain open to the presence of God in and among those whom we encounter. This fosters mutuality and openness to one another, forming service as a relationship with rather than a doing for. It dismantles models of ministry rooted in one-sided help and reshapes ministry as building the mutual relationships through which both giver and receiver participate in the revelation of God to each other and to the world.

Nearly 500 years ago, the young monk Martin Luther nailed his 95 Theses to a church door in Wittenberg, Germany, and kicked off the movement that would become the Protestant Reformation. The theological disputes that followed have been well-documented over the centuries, but what the Reformation meant for the church’s witness in the midst of hunger and poverty is often forgotten. In this series leading up to October 31, 2017, we will take a deeper look at the Reformation’s importance for the church’s social ministry – and the important work to which people of faith are called by the gospel.

Obviously, the Reformation was more than just Martin Luther. So, today, we are looking at a quote from another great Reformer, Andreas Bodenstein von Karlstadt, with thanks to the eminent Reformation historian Carter Lindberg, for lifting up this important figure in his book Beyond Charity: Reformation Initiatives for the Poor. Quotes from Karlstadt in this post are from Lindberg’s book and earlier translation.

#6 – “We should not tolerate but banish [beggars]; not in an unreasonable and tyrannical manner but rather with willing help so that we Christians shall allow no one to come into such poverty and need that he is afflicted and caused to go and cry out after bread.”

Andreas Bodenstein was born in Karlstadt around 1480. He came to be known more commonly by the city of his birth, Karlstadt.  A theologian by training, Karlstadt became dean of the theology faculty at Wittenberg in 1512, five years before Luther posted the 95 Theses. In 1516, he became familiar with Luther’s teachings in a debate in which Karlstadt argued against a student supporting Luther’s views. Over time, though, he came to embrace many of Luther’s reforms, becoming one of the first priests to get married. It didn’t all go smoothly, though, and Luther and Karlstadt often disagreed.

Karlstadt was officially excommunicated from the Catholic Church in 1520, along with Luther. He spent most of his remaining decades moving from place-to-place, at times preaching and at times working as a farmer or merchant, in between regular bouts of disagreement with Luther and other reformers. In 1541, he died of the plague.

What Does This Mean?

Begging took at least two forms in Europe in the 1500s. First, there were folks who were poor by circumstance. These folks were unemployed, underemployed, or often, crippled by debt. In order to get the food they needed to survive and take care of their families, they sought the charity of their neighbors. Second, though, were various groups of mendicants, men and women who, as members of religious orders, took vows of poverty and were poor by choice. Mendicants relied on the charity of other Christians as they lived in and traveled through the towns of Europe.

Luther, Karlstadt, and other reformers had some major issues with the mendicants. Primarily, the difference was theological. The mendicant orders saw their chosen poverty as a good work that moved them along the path toward holiness. They then shared a piece of this holiness with other Christians through the charitable donations these other Christians made to them. For Luther and Karlstadt, though, this practice was, in Karlstadt’s words, “unchristian, fraudulent, and noxious” and ought to be banned.

Key to Karlstadt’s critique of the mendicants was his impression that the religious brotherhoods that practiced begging were deceiving people who were poor by circumstance. He argued that “they injure the poor with their demands for cheese, corn, bread, beer, wine and testament, and sorts of things.” Rather than work to earn their bread by their own labors, the mendicants, according to Karlstadt, were deceptively collecting it from people in poverty, who believed that their giving would merit God’s favor. Thus, both Luther and Karlstadt preached an end to begging and reserved special vitriol for the mendicants.

When it came to people who were poor by circumstance, however, the reformers were far more sympathetic. Knowing the tremendous economic challenges many in Europe faced at the time, Karlstadt and Luther urged the church to undertake coordinated efforts to address what we might call the root causes of poverty today – unemployment, medical care, debt, and lack of education. Beyond this, Karlstadt also argued that civil authorities bore responsibility toward people in poverty. Certainly, he argued, those who can work ought to work. But, he added, the civil authorities ought to “give them aid and help to begin their craft or work.”

We see in Karlstadt – and in Luther – an emphasis on addressing poverty at the root, as well as the need for a comprehensive response that included the church and the government in ending poverty and hunger.

This was nothing new at the time Karlstadt was writing (1522). In fact, right about this same time, the church in Wittenberg began the “common chest,” a literal chest that held donations to be used for poverty alleviation. In addition to the immediate relief needed to make sure people didn’t go to bed hungry, the chest was used to finance occupational retraining for people who were underemployed, no-interest loans to artisans, health care, and support for orphans. Luther wrote the preface to the ordinance establishing this first common chest and expressed his wholehearted support for the effort. Despite their many disagreements, he and Karlstadt at least concurred on this; in a city of Christians, there ought to be no begging because in a city of Christians, there ought to be no poverty.

So, what?

Karlstadt and Luther had to carefully distinguish between mendicants and people in poverty. Their distinction wasn’t based on who deserved charity and who did not, but rather based on the calling of the church and the tenets of Christian faith. Mendicant begging was rooted in the notion that charitable giving was meritorious, that humans could, by the effort of a few coins or loaves, curry God’s favor. Nothing could be further from the gospel truth, for the reformers. Serving the neighbor was not something a Christian did because it earned them a place in heaven. Rather, it was a response to God’s gift of salvation, extended to humanity despite our inability to earn it. No work, no matter how charitable, paves a path to the sweet hereafter.

However, that doesn’t mean that Christians have no vocation toward their neighbors. On the contrary, it made seeking the well-being of the neighbor that much more profound. Consider this: if we believe that the primary purpose of charity is to earn our salvation, and we can do this with just a few coins here and there, we are likely to engage in charity without much thought to the good of the neighbor. Our primary thought will be our own good, the good that comes from our action.

But, if we believe that our salvation is secured and that because of this, we respond to God’s call to love and serve the neighbor and to seek the neighbor’s well-being, we are drawn a bit deeper, into looking at the sources of their need. This is precisely the place Karlstadt and Luther went. What makes begging necessary for so many people? Their challenge to the church and to people of faith individually was to not merely respond to the suffering of their neighbors but to end it. And that means devising systematic approaches to ending poverty and hunger, including working with civil authorities, whose responsibilities included ensuring that everyone in their realm was fed and sheltered.

Karlstadt’s quote points to this profound take on poverty alleviation. Indeed, the Reformation itself has many similar examples to draw on. It hints, too, at questions we ought to ask about our responses to poverty today. Are we working to ensure, as Karlstadt suggested, that poverty should be eliminated such that there is no need for begging? Or, is our charity an attempt at currying the favor of God, without a thought to ending the suffering of our neighbors for good? Profound questions, still today.

Woodcut depicting an indulgence seller, ca. 1510

Nearly 500 years ago, the young monk Martin Luther nailed his 95 Theses to a church door in Wittenberg, Germany, and kicked off the movement that would become the Protestant Reformation. The theological disputes that followed have been well-documented over the centuries, but what the Reformation meant for the church’s witness in the midst of hunger and poverty is often forgotten. In this series leading up to October 31, 2017, we will take a deeper look at the Reformation’s importance for the church’s social ministry – and the important work to which people of faith are called by the gospel.

Throughout the week, we’ll look at different quotes, counting down to the 500^th Anniversary. Today, we have an oft-neglected barb from Luther’s 95 Theses:

#9 – Thesis #45 – “Christians are to be taught that he who sees a needy man and passes him by, yet gives his money for indulgences, does not buy papal indulgences but God’s wrath.”

Yep, Luther was big on God’s wrath. Sin and its penalties were very concrete for Christians in Luther’s day, and he was no exception. In fact, it was this fear of God’s wrath that contributed to Luther’s excessive use of the Catholic sacrament of confession, much to the reported annoyance of some his confessors. On the other hand, one can scarcely imagine the freedom Luther felt when confronted by grace. I like to think that some of his brutal passion against the Church was in defense of other poor souls who, like him, had lived in fear of a vengeful God.

But that doesn’t stop Luther from invoking God’s fiery anger when convenient, especially when it comes to church practices that he viewed as theologically incorrect and harmful. Indulgences were at the top of his early list.

What Does This Mean?

An indulgence was, essentially, a certificate that reduced the time one had to spend in purgatory before entering heaven. These weren’t a new development in Luther’s day but had been around for quite some time. One of the earliest reports of indulgences was in 1099, when Pope Urban II granted indulgences to the soldiers who traveled to the Holy Land as part of the Crusades. In their original form, indulgences reduced the amount of penance a sinner had to do to cleanse themselves from sin. They were granted most often to Catholics who had done some great service for the Church.

But in Luther’s day, the practice of indulgences took a dark turn, in large part to a man named Albrecht (check him out there on the left.) Albrecht became an elector (sort of a combination of bishop and political ruler) of Mainz in Germany. There were costs associated with this promotion, though, and Albrecht had to take out a loan to pay for vestments and other things appropriate for his new seat (and, one can imagine, a pretty righteous potluck for guests at the celebration of his appointment.) Albrecht took out a loan from a powerful banking family called the Fuggers.

The Fuggers were, perhaps, one of the wealthiest families in history. They had holdings throughout Europe and the Middle East, and everyone from the Pope to the Emperor was in debt to them. Greg Steinmetz has argued that it was no coincidence that in 1515, Pope Leo X “revised” the Catholic Church’s teaching on usury, allowing for the first time in Christian history the collection of interest on loans. Pope Leo himself was a beneficiary of the Fuggers’ practices.

Anyway, back to Albrecht. So, Albrecht needed money, and if you needed money, you went to the Fuggers. (That’s Jakob Fugger in the painting below.) This came with hefty interest payments, though, which means Albrecht needed more money to pay back the loans. Enter: indulgences. Albrecht employed a salesman named Johan Tetzel to travel throughout Europe selling these indulgences as a way of paying back his loan, all the while promising buyers that they or their recently departed loved ones would spend less time in purgatory as a result. Pope Leo X, no stranger to extravagant spending, also engaged in the trade, using indulgences to raise money to build St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome.

“I made enough money to buy Miami. No, like, literally. And by Miami, I mean Europe.”

Luther, like many of his contemporaries, knew what was going on. He saw poor peasants spending money on indulgences rather than on feeding their families. (Which was understandable. Why feed your child today, if you could buy their eternal salvation for all their tomorrows?) He also saw wealthy people flinging money at indulgences instead of using their largesse to support their neighbors in need. At the same time, he came to understand the truth of justification by grace, the belief that humans can not earn – or purchase – their own salvation. Salvation, Luther saw in scripture, was and always would be a gift of God, not a reward from the Pope. Finally, enough was enough, and Luther posted his 95 Theses – formally titled Disputation on the Power and Efficacy of Indulgences – and kicked off the Reformation.

The theological reasons behind Luther’s opposition to indulgences are more familiar to most. But what has been muted in history are the economic complaints Luther had against the system. Here was the church, defrauding (in Luther’s mind) poor peasants out of their meager earnings in order to line the pockets of wealthy cardinals, popes, and the bankers to whom they were indebted. He also saw the church encouraging people to throw their money at building grand cathedrals while their neighbors starved. Luther saw bad theology being used to justify greed, all at the expense of people in need.

So What?

As much as we focus on the important notions of “grace alone,” “faith alone,” and others in this Reformation Anniversary season, it’s important to remember that Luther was driven not just by a desire for more scripturally-attuned theology, but also by the exploitation bad theology made possible. It makes one wonder, where today might we hear “theology” masquerading as a cover for greed or exploitation?

Part of the heritage of the Reformation is the belief that true theology – theology that authentically reflects the witness of scripture – is theology that calls people of faith to meet the needs of their neighbors, inasmuch as God desires the well-being of all. Ironically, then, if we want to discern whether our theology reflects God revealed in scripture, perhaps one good test might be asking, “How does my theology affect my neighbor? Does it encourage service of my neighbor? Or, does it justify their exploitation?” This is the flip-side of Luther’s 95 Theses. Indulgences were not merely a theological, theoretical problem. They were a social problem that enriched the few while impoverishing the many. If our theology does the same, perhaps it is time for another Reformation.

Ferdinand Pauwels, 1872

Nearly 500 years ago, the young monk Martin Luther nailed his 95 Theses to a church door in Wittenberg, Germany, and kicked off the movement that would become the Protestant Reformation. The theological disputes that followed have been well-documented over the centuries, but what the Reformation meant for the church’s witness in the midst of hunger and poverty is often forgotten. In this series leading up to October 31, 2017, we will take a deeper look at the Reformation’s importance for the church’s social ministry – and the important work to which people of faith are called by the gospel.

Each day, we’ll look at a different quote, counting down to the 500^th Anniversary. This week, we start with a familiar but pithy gem from Martin Luther’s Small Catechism.

#10 – “I believe that God has made me and all creatures; that He has given me my body and soul, eyes, ears, and all my members, my reason and all my senses, and still takes care of them. He also gives me clothing and shoes, food and drink, house and home, wife and children, land, animals, and all I have. He richly and daily provides me with all that I need to support this body and life.”

This affirmation comes to us from Luther’s explanation of the First Article of the Apostle’s Creed: “I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth.” The aptly named Small and Large Catechisms were written by Luther as guides for teaching Christians about certain aspects of their faith. Luther saw a great deal of confusion about the Creed, the Lord’s Prayer, and the Commandments, especially as more folks moved away from Roman Catholicism. He published the catechisms to help them understand some of the basic contours of this emerging Protestant faith. The writings in them were so popular and well-accepted that they eventually became part of the Book of Concord, the traditional authoritative text for Lutherans.

The catechisms are meant to be informative for preachers, pastors, and laypeople, and were used both in formal education and in homes. Each commandment and article of the Lord’s Prayer and the Creed are explained by Luther with allusions to scripture and to real-life situations.

In this explanation of the First Article of the creed, Luther lays out a basic tenet of faith: all good things come from God. Unlike some earlier forms of Christianity that believed the material world was evil, or that being holy meant separating oneself from daily life, Luther believed that all creation testified to God’s grace and God’s intention for our well-being. The life of faith is not a life lived separate from the world but rather was lived immersed in the world, enjoying the fruits of God’s creation and working to ensure that others can enjoy them, as well.

What Does This Mean?

For Luther, food, clothing, shelter, family, and all that we have are gifts of God. Thus, the first lesson to be drawn from this is our dependence on God for our well-being. This factors into Luther’s teachings in other places, particularly when it comes to our behavior in an economic community. Rather than treat our possessions as solely our own or principally as the fruit of our own labors, Christians are called to see all that we have as gifts from a loving God—and to use them as such.

This places some radical limits on how we use our possessions. The sort of greedy acquisitiveness that can cause us to act selfishly or to “boast” in our own wealth, for Luther, is a denial of our dependence on God. Drawing on Christian thought that stretches back at least to Clement of Alexandria in the 2^nd Century (and probably much further!), Luther believed that we hold our possessions as stewards and not as full owners. This lays the groundwork for his later claims that Christians are duty-bound to share their goods with others in need.

This also points to a key nuance in Lutheran theology. Just because these things are gifts from God does not mean that those who lack food, clothing, shelter, or family are not blessed by God’s grace. Unlike the popular prosperity gospel preachers today, who teach that God rewards good people with wealth, Luther believed that these gifts are given indiscriminately. Inequity, if it exists, is not part of God’s “plan,” but rather evidence of failed stewardship by humans. Poverty, then, may be a sign of the sin of poor stewardship, rather than a punishment of God.

The other lesson this portion of the Catechism teaches is the expansive role of grace in our world. For Luther, the world is not formed in scarcity. People of faith don’t start from the premise of what the world lacks—though faith also means being honest about the deep need around us. Instead, faith begins from the notion that God has gifted the world abundantly, that grace is in evidence all around us as the foundational principle of existence. It’s grace, all the way down.

So what?

When it comes to the church’s ministries among people in poverty and hunger, there is much to lean on here. First, part of what it means to be human is to recognize our dependence. This balances claims to self-sufficiency. None of us is fully independent or self-sufficient. At the root, we are all dependent on God.

Second, people of faith are called to be good stewards and to remember from whom their possessions came. Ultimately, the food we eat, the clothes we wear and the comforts we enjoy are not products of our own doing, but rather gifts from God. This helps us put our stewardship of our material resources and of our personal relationships in a different light. How do I use my possessions differently, if I recognize them as God’s? How do I tend my personal relationships differently, if I see each of them as a gift from God?

Lastly, Luther reminds us that the basic fact of all existence is grace. We live by grace, are sustained by grace, and are saved by grace. This means that beginning with abundance – looking for those places where grace may reveal itself – is an important way to witness to our faith. It’s easy in the midst of hunger to focus on need or lack. The harder and more important step, though, is to recall continually the great gifts with which God has endowed every community. This includes the gifts of “reason and the senses,” those mental and emotional faculties that help us discern solutions to seemingly intractable problems. Faith in “God the father almighty, maker of heaven and earth” is a faith that calls us to look for the assets our community can bring to the table, even as we are honest about our needs.

Large, multinational corporations controlling prices and driving down wages, masses of people too poor to afford basic goods, an economy that favors the wealthy, politicians and church leaders at the mercy of banks….1517 was quite a year!  So much has changed, so much remains the same.

Many people remember Martin Luther’s sharp critique of the abusive practices of the church, but few of us are as familiar with Luther’s equally sharp critique of the abusive economy of his day, an economy that made a few people wealthy and a lot of people poor.

At the 2015 “Forgotten Luther” conference in Washington, DC, theologians and historians shared this little-known side of Luther’s teachings.  The presenters described Luther’s critique of monopolies, price gouging, and greed. They showed the clear economic teachings in Luther’s Catechisms and the political side of his theology. They also shared Luther’s insistence that the church be part of the solution to injustice, a heritage that can still be seen today in the many ways Lutherans respond to poverty and hunger 500 years later.

ELCA World Hunger is proud to offer for free videos of each presentation from this important conference, as well as video interviews with each of the presenters. You can find all of the videos on the ELCA’s Vimeo channel at https://vimeo.com/album/4043021. The presentations were also collected into a short book, complete with discussion questions and other contributions from the conference organizers. You can purchase the book for only $15 from Lutheran University Press at http://www.lutheranupress.org/Books/Forgotten_Luther.

Here on the ELCA World Hunger blog this month, we will feature some highlights from this collection of resources.

In this interview, Dr. Samuel Torvend of Pacific Lutheran University talks about justification and justice, the experiences that shaped his own perspective, and how to reconcile Luther’s conservative positions with the Reformer’s progressive call for economic justice. Find this video and more at https://vimeo.com/album/4043021.